#I woke up before my alarm today and was like maybe I'll take a shower!! in the MORNING! as soon as I woke up!!!!

[coloursofaparadox]

i finally got my adhd med dosage worked out and also for like the first time since upping the dosage actually managed to take it consistently long enough for it to actually kick in over the last few weeks and god damn. that shit is magic.

[gloomzombie]

I'll Bury You For This

Pairing: Jeff The Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,861

Chapter One: Smells Like Teen Spirit

August 16. 7:20 am.

The sound of my alarm blaring woke me up. I groaned and flipped over on my bed, turning the damned thing off. I hate it but it's not like anyone else is gonna wake me up.

I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Ah, today would be the first day of school. The first day of my senior year to be exact. God, when did I get so old? I'll be turning 18 in two months!

"Ughh," I exclaimed in a tired voice. I stood up and went to my closet, taking out some clothes. I took those to the bathroom, my mind fogged with sleep. I'm not exactly sure how I feel starting the new year.

I mean I'm gonna go through this year, then it'll be my last summer before I start college. It feels abnormal to even think about it.

I took my shower and put on my clothes afterward. I wore some skinny jeans, a random band shirt, and some accessories like necklaces and chains. I also decided to style my hair a little so I didn't look terrible. I also put on some pencil eyeliner. Liquid eyeliner is way too feminine for me.

After all that was done, I grabbed my backpack and made my way through the hallway to the kitchen. I took out a chocolate chip muffin I bought yesterday and stuffed it in my bag.

I always eat my small breakfast in school. I can't stand being here for longer than I have to. I check the time on my phone. It read 7:58 am.

Perfect. I can go now and won't be too early. I put my phone in my pocket and grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter. I stopped at the door to put my shoes on.

"You were just gonna leave without speaking to me?" My heart dropped in my chest at the sound of his voice. Shit. I finished tying my shoes and stood up straight, looking over at where it came from.

Down the hallway stood my dad, who I've recently started calling John, in a sweat-stained tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. Classic deadbeat dad fit. "Sorry. I didn't want to wake you but I also wanted to get to school a little early." I fiddled with the hem of my shirt anxiously.

My dad rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll just call your mother to come get your stuff while you're gone. Maybe you'll be happier there since you hate me so much."

I sighed, trying not to feel anything as I repeated my recurring responses. "I don't hate you." "Why do you hate me so much? Let's talk about this because I wanna know." He stared me down, waiting by his bedroom doorway.

"I don't hate you." "Uhuh. I believe that."

I turned the doorknob, knowing if I don't leave now I'll be here for a long time. "I'm not done talking to you! Don't walk away from me when I'm speaking to you, little boy!" He yelled at me as I walked out the door.

I quickly locked the door and about ran to my bike. I picked it up and took off as fast as I could, ignoring the sound of the door slamming open.

8:18 am.

I got to school later than I wanted to, but I didn't really think much of it. I immediately went to first period, not in the mood to deal with everyone in the hallways.

I went inside and took my seat in the back. I was one of the only people in the classroom. Even the teacher wasn't in yet. I sighed, slouching in my chair.

I let my eyes wander over the classroom and rolled my eyes. I need to listen to music if I wanna get through the day. I took my phone and earbuds out of my pocket, putting the earbuds in my ears.

I played my most recently made playlist. I decided I'd save my muffin for later. I don't really have much of an appetite after this morning.

As the students packed into the room over the next few minutes, I continued listening to music until my best friend's familiar face showed up.

I smiled, turning off my music and taking out my earbuds. "Xander!" I called. He turned his head toward my direction, previously eyeing the girl he was talking to. "Hey!" He turned back and muttered something to her, to which she giggled in response.

He made his way over to me. "Shit. Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd show," He smirked, taking the seat beside me. I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "Could say the same thing to you."

"Touche touche. Soo did you ever get that guy's number?" He asked, lowering his voice a bit as he spoke.

I gave him a confused expression, racking my mind for what guy he could be talking about. He spoke up again while I was still thinking about who it could be.

"The guy with long hair that worked at Spencers?" Xander rolled his eyes. My expression relaxed. "Oh, him? Nah, last time I went he was with another dude and they kissed so I mean." I answered, putting my earbuds back in my backpack.

"Wellll...you could still have asked for his number," Xander wiggled his eyebrows and I punched him in the arm. "No! I'm not doing that when he was obviously with someone." I roll my eyes, exasperated by him already.

"I would have if it were a chick." "Yeah, 'cause you're a manwhore." Now it was his turn to punch me. We laughed and talked more until the teacher finally showed up.

"Sorry students, I was caught up in the teacher's lounge," Ms. Johnson cleared her throat and put her things down on her desk messily.

"Yeah, caught up with Mr. Evans," Xander said just above a whisper. The girls in the back of the room giggled. Ah, so the fangirls are already starting.

Ms. Johnson's face scrunched up a tad as she obviously heard his comment, but she ignored it. "Now, today we won't have a lesson since it's the first day, but I do have some word searches that you will be graded on." She then told someone in the front to pass the papers back.

As the papers were being passed around, people started conversations with their friends. Xander was too busy talking to the girls around us. I try to tune it out since he can be pretty gross.

I felt a small tap on my shoulder and I turned in my seat. "Hi, sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to say I really like your shirt and like- your style in general." It was a girl I had never seen before. She had an alternative style, her teased hair and many facial piercings making it obvious.

She wore all black and on the front of her shirt was a metal band logo I recognized- Aversions Crown. I had to look down at my shirt, forgetting which one I slipped on. Carnifex. "Oh, thanks. I like yours too." I gave her a nice smile. I rarely ever found people that liked metal here, the heaviest music people usually like is older rock music and the occasional Metallica song.

"Thanks! They're one of my favorites," she averted her gaze. I could tell she was flustered even under her pale makeup. "Oh! I'm sorry I forgot to tell you my name." She realized. "I'm Lily," her black lips turned up at the corners into a soft smile.

"It's fine. I'm Y/N," I smiled back at her. It'd be cool to have another actual friend. "Lilyy! Are you done talking to that cute boy yet? I still need to talk to you about what happened with you know who," a girl from a few desks away whined.

Lily covered her mouth with her hand. "Sorry about that. Talk later?" She asked. I nodded. "Yeah sure." She walked back over to the other girl and they started talking and giggling amongst themselves.

I sighed and looked back over at Xander. He was still talking to the girls that surrounded him. I never understood why he was so popular. He's an emo dude and aren't emo dudes supposed to get bullied?

He is pretty. Really pretty. But how in the hell did they think that too?

"Oh! Class, can I get your attention please?" Ms. Johnson spoke up. I looked over at her, but only a few other people did as well. "I said, can I have your attention?" She raised her voice a little and that got a majority of the class's attention.

"As you know, we don't usually get too many new students. But, this young man is an exception!" She smiled as she looked up at the "young man" beside her.

Oh? Beside her stood probably one of the prettiest guys I've seen at this school, and that's saying a lot since he had a mask on, concealing the bottom half of his face.

That got everyone's attention. "Go on, introduce yourself." His eyes slanted ever so slightly, obviously annoyed. Was it obvious or am I just paying a lot of attention to him?

"I'm Jeff. That's all you need to know about me." His gravely, deep voice caught me off guard.

Oh my GOD his voice. I inhaled sharply, sitting up a bit straighter. I need to calm down.

Ms. Johnson sighed, clearly just not wanting to deal with anything today. "Alright. Find an empty seat anywhere and finish this by the end of the day." She handed him the word search and his eyes scanned the room, probably looking for a seat.

I watched as his eyes landed on me, or rather the chair beside me then actually to me. Oh god, focus focus focus. I quickly averted my gaze to the unfinished word search on my desk, fiddling with the pencil in between my fingers.

I can't focus. His footsteps came closer and closer till it was just the sound of the plastic chair moving against the linoleum floor. I shouldn't be stressing out this much over a new guy but damn. There's something about the way he carries himself that really catches my attention...but y'know his looks help.

"Hey." I heard him speak up and I took my time to turn my head towards him, with a lot of self-control mind you. "Oh, hey." I let my eyes rest on his. I note the bluish-grey color they were.

"Saw you were eyeing the hell outta me. What was that about? You have a problem?" Jeff asked, his tone harsh and defensive. I gave him a confused expression. "No? Am I not allowed to look at you?" I asked sarcastically.

I watched his furrowed eyes soften a little. Does he like attitude or something? "Not in the way you were looking at me." He retorted, his voice laced with venom. He leaned closer to me and I could swear I could feel my face heat up.

"Listen. I'm gonna say this once and only once. Don't mess with me. I promise you, you won't enjoy what happens." Jeff's eyes pierced into mine as his words registered in my mind.

The hell? Threatening me when he doesn't even know me? 'You won't enjoy what happens.' Yeah we'll see about that.

"And what's going to happen if I do?" I retaliated. I don't like being threatened, especially by someone that doesn't know anything about me.

Jeff's eyebrow raised and he chuckled, an evil sound coming from behind his lips. "Oh, you really have no clue who you're messing with here." "Enlighten me."

"Alright, class! We have two minutes until this period is over. Gather your things and you can take your word searches. Make sure to turn them in to me before the end of the day." Ms. Johnson's voice interrupted our conversation.

"Just leave me alone if you know what's good for you." Jeff stood up quickly, picking up his bag in the same movement then walking out the door. My eyes lay on the doorway for a second.

Well, he sure is interesting. Interesting and hot, but that's not important.

10:48 am.

My next class was pretty much the same. Again, it is the first day so we didn't do much. Xander doesn't share it with me and neither did that Lily girl, so I drew most of the period.

After that class ended, I headed into the hallway. I made my way to my locker. That new kid, Jeff, was rummaging through the one beside mine. Oh great. So he took the locker that was vacant last year.

I sighed and went up to my own, unlocking it and putting my books in there that I wouldn't need right now. I couldn't help but scrunch my face at how dull it looked. I'll have to decorate it more when I can. I can't stand how boring it looks right now.

I could feel Jeff's burning gaze on the side of my head, but I ignored it. I shut my locker and made my way to third period.

I was again one of the first people there, taking a seat in the back as usual. I took a book out of my bag and picked up where I left off, tuning out the chitter-chatter and miscellaneous noises of the class.

I continued reading, getting really into the chapter, until I heard the sound of the moving of the chair sat beside mine. I look up from my book. Jeff sat there next to me, his gaze set nowhere in particular.

I let my eyes roam the room and notice something. Really? There are so many other empty chairs. After all that he said to me in first period, he's still gonna sit next to me? I couldn't help the smug expression that grazed my face. Jeff's eyes moved over to meet mine.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" he snapped. I smirked. "Well, it seems to me you're contradicting yourself." Jeff's eyebrow raised in confusion. "You threatened me just an hour ago yet," I motioned towards the chair he was sitting at, "you still choose to sit next to me."

Jeff huffed, his eyebrows knit in a tight line. "Whatever. I just like to sit in the back. Has absolutely nothing to do with you." He turned his gaze back to look in front of him as if he were thinking.

I chuckled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, sugar." Jeff's head flung back to look at me. "The FUCK did you just call me?" He raised his voice a little, causing us to get a few looks from people.

I smirked, leaning closer just a bit. "Sugarr." I pulled back and looked back at my book, smiling at the expression the simple pet name left on his face.

12:10 pm.

After third period ended, I made my way back to my locker and put some more stuff in it for tomorrow. I took my bag with me as I made my way through the hall.

My gaze was kept at my feet. I usually keep to myself and am only ever bothered by people who somehow like me. I'm pretty sure it's just because I'm best friends with Xander though.

"Y/N?" I stopped my trip to the cafeteria and turned to look at who it was this time. It was a guy that stopped me this time, which shocked me a little bit.

It's mostly girls that stop me and won't stop giggling and smiling as they try to get me to go out with them.

"Yeah, that's me," I responded. I don't recognize him. He had fluffy brown hair and wore some baggy pants and a brown striped sweater. He was shorter than me, so I had to look down at him.

"I know you don't know me but, I've always thought you looked really cool. Do you think we could sit together at lunch?" He asked. His eyes were avoiding mine, looking down at the floor as he fiddled with his fingers. Is he really this nervous to talk to me?

"Uh.. yeah. Yeah sure," I decided it wouldn't hurt. Xander would have to suck it up if he wants me to sit with him.

I continued my walk to the cafeteria, but now with this random guy. I probably shouldn't call him random but what else would I call him when I don't know him?

We went through the doorway as we arrived at the cafe. I looked around, noticing Xander. I was planning on telling him I'd be sitting with someone else today, but I stopped myself from approaching his table.

With the way every chair at it was taken by another bleach blonde girl with self tanned skin, I have a feeling he wouldn't care one bit.

I shrugged. It doesn't surprise me. "Isn't that your friend?" The shorter male's voice spoke. I sighed. "Best friend, yeah." I kept my response short as I started to walk in the direction of an empty table.

I quickly sat in one of the chairs and the guy sat in the one directly in front of me. "Is he always an ass like that?" He muttered, which made me laugh a little.

I slid a hand through my hair, not caring if it messed up a little. "Yeah, that's just him. It doesn't really bother you after a while." I started rummaging through my backpack and pulled out my muffin and a water bottle.

"Oh, I didn't tell you my name did I?" I turned my gaze toward him as I zipped my bag back up. I shook my head and watched as his face got a little red.

He averted his gaze, biting his lip. "Sorry. I'm Gage." I took my muffin out of the wrapper as he nervously introduced himself.

It was a cute name, and it suited him very well. "Cute." I replied, voicing my thoughts aloud. I couldn't help the smile from grazing my lips as I watched his face redden and how his hand moves up to cover his mouth.

"I don't think so," Gage responds, his eyes going to mine for a split second before moving away again. I tilted my head. "Welll," I took his hand in mine and pulled it down from his face, "I think it's perfect for you."

His eyes met mine once more and he couldn't hide how red his face has gotten at this point. I chuckled and let go of his hand.

I can't ever help myself. Flirting with people is my thing. I love to make them flustered and watch as they squirm under my gaze, especially if they're pretty.

"I..Uh..." Gage looked away once more. I pulled my hand away from his and started eating my muffin. At least I'll be getting something out of this school year.

1:30pm

The rest of lunch and fourth period went by in a blur. The time I had left in lunch I spent getting to know Gage more.

He's pretty cute honestly. Not only was his appearance cute though, his personality was adorable. I think we're gonna be good friends, especially if Xander keeps distancing himself from me.

Fourth period was really boring, but math usually is. At least the work was just review work so it was really simple.

I make my way to my locker, putting my math textbook in it. I made my way to fifth period, not really paying attention to my surroundings.

My next class is history, which I'm not insanely thrilled about but I'll be alright. If it were something more interesting like Greek or Roman history I'd be all for it but it's just gonna be American history yet again.

I walked into class and made my way to the back, taking the seat closest to the window. I took my notebook out and opened it.

I started doodling, as I'm yet again early. I sighed, my thoughts elsewhere as I absentmindedly drew whatever my hand wanted to.

I continued drawing, even when the class started filling up more- and even when he sat next to me once more.

It's probably not gonna end well, drawing without thinking. If I'm not thinking, time is going by faster which means I'll be going home faster.

I let my eyes refocus onto my page, looking at what I drew. It was merely a sketch, but it wasn't too bad. It was a random person, just someone I drew easily.

The eye shape, nose shape, mouth shape, body shape...all were easy for me to draw which is why I drew it so often.

I let my eyes trail over to the desk beside mine, then to the person sitting at it. Jeff's eyes were staring down at my desk, my paper specifically.

I moved my gaze back over at my paper. I looked back at him and realized I drew someone that kind of looks like him. The hair, style, body type, eyes. The only thing different was how the person had a nose and mouth.

"Why did you draw me?" Jeff's gravely voice spoke up, as harsh as it was earlier. "I didn't mean to? I mean I can't even see the bottom half of your face dude, calm down." I rolled my eyes at his rudeness.

Seriously, why in the hell would I purposely draw him? He's not exactly the most unique looking person out there.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Look, I don't understand your obsession with me but you should stop while you're ahead." He kept his eyes locked onto mine, like he was trying to blow me up with his mind or something.

I smirked. "I think you're projecting a bit here, lovebug." Jeff's eyes widened a bit before he hit the table with his hand lightly. "The fuck is with the stupid pet names?"

His small outburst made a few people turn their heads to look at us. I didn't really mind it so why shouldn't I push a little further?

I leaned closer to him, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked up into his eyes. "Oh I think we both know the answer to that, honey."

Jeff scoffed, his eyes squinted a tad. "You can't just walk up in here looking that attractive and not expect me to react to it." I kept my smirk as his disgusted expression faded into a confused one, one of his eyebrows raised slightly.

I leaned a little closer, whispering words I didn't necessarily mean. "If we weren't in a class filled with other people right now, I'm not sure I'd be able to control myself around you." I pulled back, taking in his expression.

The way the tip of his ears reddened, and the way his eyes widened; the way he was left utterly speechless. I knew I got in his mind, exactly like I wanted.

Teasing people has got to be my favorite thing to do. Some people think you're being a dick when you do that, but I really don't care. It's fun, especially when the other person isn't expecting it.

"Alright, class. Today we're going to do a simple word search of the American presidents since it's the first day." I didn't even realize the teacher walked in. Nor did I realize how everyone else was here or how many of them were listening. The giggling from some of the girls and the way a few of them had smiles on their faces proved just how many there were.

I sat back in my seat and turned my attention to the front of the class. The silence from the man beside me kept the smile on my face from fading away.

2:50pm

Sixth period went by all too quickly, as it was Art- my favorite class of the day. It was a simple assignment, a self portrait in your own style.

Xander shares that class with me. It bums me out a bit that we only have two classes together, but that probably won't bum me out for too much longer.

Xander barely spoke a word to me, keeping his attention on the girls that were constantly surrounding him. I drew even when I was done with my assignment.

He didn't come up to me once. The only time we talked was when I did it. I asked him if he'd want to hang out after school, but he shut me down quickly with "Nah, sorry dude. I'm gonna be "hanging out" with Jade tonight if you get what I mean," and ended it with a wink.

It felt degrading. Obviously I'm not oblivious to his sex life and whatnot, but he never makes time for his best friend. I don't want to dwell on it though.

I walked out of school, taking my bike and getting on it. I looked around to make sure I wouldn't get run over or something and started making my way back home.

As much as I hate it, I have to go straight home. My lack of friends really gets to me sometimes, especially with the fact I'm starting to lose the one I thought I never would.

3:15pm.

I leaned my bike against the house and stared at the white door in front of me. I chewed at my lip nervously. I know I have to, so I push myself to put the keys into the doors and unlock it.

I opened the door and locked it behind me. "How was school?" I heard my dad speak up from the couch.

"It was alright," I replied simply, going to the kitchen. "Ah, it was just school, huh?" His voice was loud enough the neighbors could probably hear him.

"Yeah." I threw away some trash, including the stupid drawing I made in History. I took a water bottle out of the fridge and went back into the living room.

"God, why are you so hateful to me?" My dad asked. I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose in annoyance.

I can't stand this already. "How am I being hateful?" I asked. "The way you act." I looked at him, rolling my eyes.

"How do I act?" "You know how you're acting." "No I don't," I made my way to my room, putting my backpack down and sitting on my bed. I took my phone out, plugging it in.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." I looked up and there he was, at my doorway.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down a bit. "What do you want?"

"Why are you being so rude to me?" He pushed. "I'm not being rude to you." Fuck I hate this. "Yes you are."

Why won't he just stop? "God, can't you just leave me alone?" I opened my eyes, staring directly at him.

His jaw dropped open and his eyes furrowed into a frown. "The hell did you just say to me?"

He walked forward, causing me to flinch back into my bed. "Why'd you do that? You know I'm not in the habit of hitting you."

Doesn't mean I like when you get close to me. "What did I do? What's your problem with me?" He insisted.

"I don't have a problem with you." I groaned. I don't want to deal with this today. "Yes, you do but fine, don't tell me. I'll just call your mother to come get you."

I stayed silent. I wanted to tell him fine, whatever will get me away from you, but that would keep him talking.

He finally left my room, so I got up and closed the door. I sighed, turning back to my bed and walking over. I took a sip of my water and sat down again.

I took my phone and went to spotify, turning on my favorite playlist. The sound of My Chemical Romance's I don't love you filled the room.

I lay back in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I started thinking about what happened today. I met three people: a girl that seems nice but I only share one class with, a guy who's sweet but I don't have any classes with, and a guy that wants nothing to do with me that I have three classes with.

And of course, Xander. We hung out all but three times this past summer. Three times. In less than three months. And he barely talked with me today.

I have a feeling this years gonna be shit, like always. The only difference between last year and this year is my dad's diminishing memory.

I moved my hands up to my face. I didn't realize the tears that were slowly making their way down my cheeks.

I pulled the multiple blankets on my bed over me, turning on my side and closing my eyes. I can't stand being awake any more today.

[thatwriterchaotic]

Noisy Neighbors Chapter 2

Finally got the next chapter of this out. Sorry for the long wait. I promise to be better at uploading this. Just been feeling a bit sick and been busy with things. Anyways let's get to it my lovelies.

Summary: After meeting Murphy MacManus last night, you ran into him on your way to your job interview. Oh today was going to be an interesting one.

Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 960

Warnings: [18+], slow burn, complicated feelings, miscommunication, fluff, little bit of angst because why not. drinking, cursing, mentions of drug use, smoking.

Your POV:

The alarm from your phone woke you up early in the morning. You groaned, moving your hand around to try and shut it up. Eventually you got yourself up and ready for the day. Trying to look as presentable as possible. You really needed this job.

Quickly grabbing your purse and your last piece of toast. You bolted out of your apartment, heading towards the elevator. Once the doors open you where greeted by Murphy. Dressed in a black peacoat and jeans. A pair of sunglasses resting on his head. Oh no, you really didn't have time to be distracted by Murphy right now.

“Morning, las what's got ya all jumpy?” Murphy said with a smile. You smiled back at him and entered the elevator. “Job interview, remember?” You said back to him, finishing your last piece of toast on the way down. “Ah I remember now, nervous about it?” He asked, standing next to you. “A little to be honest, I really need this job” You said as you looked through your purse. Making sure you had everything you needed.

“Well I think you'll do amazin, come tell me about it later?” Murphy said with a smile. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor. Both of you stepping out. You smiled “Sure, I'll come by later then, maybe meet your brother” You said as you went your separate ways. You noticed another man join Murphy, wearing the same outfit. Just he had spikey hair and a scar through his eyebrow. Maybe it was Murphy's brother? You thought to yourself. Would have to find that out later.

You went outside and called yourself a taxi. Heading towards your job interview. You still felt nervous, but hearing Murphy thought you would do well cheered you up a bit. You relaxed in the backseat and looked out the window. Today was going to be a good a day. Just had to keep yourself focused…

The interview went somewhat okay. You answered all their questions, they told you about the job. It wasn't much, just editing papers for the local news article. They didn't take long before they went to the next person after you. You sighed and made your way out of the building. Making your way back home.

You didn't know what you would do if this job didn't go well. You thought as you waited for another taxi. That's when it started to rain. Your day couldn't be any worse. You quickly hopped into the taxi and shut the door. Telling the driver where to go. Eventually the car stopped, you paid and got out and headed into your apartment building.

Your hair was soaked and you felt yourself shiver. A hot shower and maybe a beer would make this better. You pressed the button for the elevator and waited. Wrapping your arms around yourself. Once it was your floor, you stepped out and grabbed your keys from your purse.

“Hey there (Y/n)!” Murphy startled you, making you jump back. You hit him in the gut making him groan. He put his hand up in defense. “It's just me las!! I'm sorry” Murphy quickly said. Oh you felt horrible. “Shit! Murphy you can't scare a girl like that” You said and helped him stand up right. “I'm alright, I'm alright. Sorry again for scaring ya” Murphy said chuckling a bit. Good to know you could throw a punch. You smiled a bit, “It's okay Murphy, kinda cheered me up a bit honestly. Today wasn't great” You said honestly.

That's when Murphy noticed you where soaked. Your hair stuck to your face. Your shoulder he had his hand on was freezing. “Why don't ya go get cleaned up then come over, we can talk about it yea?” He said with the sweetest smile. How thoughtful. You nodded your head saying goodbye to Murphy. Heading inside your apartment.

You took a nice hot shower and changed into something comfortable. A simple t-shirt and nice jeans. You grabbed your phone putting it in your back pocket. Opening your fridge, you grabbed the six pack of beer. Headed on over to Murphy's apartment.

The door was cracked open when you arrived. You still knocked as you walked in hearing chatter from the kitchen. The apartment looked the same as yours. Just messy and less taken care of. Murphy greeted you and took the beer setting it on the counter. “Glad you came over, This is my brother Connor, and that's Rocco. Ignore him” Murphy said before Rocco hit him in the arm.

The guy from this morning was standing next to Murphy. So that was his brother. “So your the twin brother that Murphy constantly nags about” You said with a smile. Connor chuckled a little and sipped the beer in his hand. “Ah! That's me las, you must be our neighbor that Murphy keeps talking about” He responded back. You noticed Murphy's face turn a slight shade of red. Which you thought was adorable.

“Aye, don't go telling her about that!” Murphy yelled at his brother smacking him behind his head. Connor quickly set his beer down and pulled Murphy's head into his arms. Messing up his hair. Oh tonight was going to be a long one...

[nebulousneuroticism]

I woke for my alarm today. I didn't snooze, like I normally do, because I was instantly hit by stress.

It's this maintenance thing. It's really bothering me. All day long, I'm stressed and worried, angry and frustrated. But there's not really anything I can do. I dealt with it as best I could, but I had trouble concentrating on other things like work. I felt a little better in the evening, but then it hit me again around midnight. I ended up sending them another email, this one more sternly-worded, citing legal codes at them in the hopes they might get scared (though I stopped short of giving them an ultimatum). But the truth is, I really don't want to have to sue them. I just want to take a shower... It's been a whole month now.

Anyway. I gotta stop thinking about it. There's nothing I can do, and it's driving me insane.

Other than that, I suppose it was a decent day. I took a walk and ate pretty healthy. In the evening, I played some video games. All fine, but my heart wasn't in any of it.

I guess you already know how I feel tonight. Worried, frustrated, upset. I'll probably have trouble sleeping tonight, and I set an early alarm tomorrow. Maybe I should go to the office. Maybe that would make me ruminate less... or maybe it would make me ruminate more, since I wouldn't know until I got home if anyone came to fix my problems.

I'm gonna try to meditate. Clear my mind before I sleep.

[asydicsydney]

Just for you freaks, I finished my first Night Vale fic.

I wrote most of this in August and just could not finish it, until today for some reason.

It is the story of how Carlos discovered his sabbatical location in the fall of 2011, and loosely based on the song "Legs Away" by Mother Mother. The music at the end that you can really only hear through headphones is what spurred me to write this, so you should go listen to it. Required listening, actually, I've just decided.

(3k words, some existentialism and death talk ahead)

All of Carlos' assignments from this week's field study were finally graded after a horrendous three hour grading session. It was now four in the morning and Carlos was unbelievably tired. Good thing he only had two hours to get some rest, considering he had a 7AM class to teach at the University of What It Is, plus the quite arduous daily commute it puts him through. He sat his phone on the night stand to charge in addition to checking that his alarm was indeed set. It was never not set before, but he just didn't want to inconvenience any of his students or faculty peers with being late because of one silly error. Having already changed into sweatpants and one of his many science pun t-shirts several hours and cups of coffee ago, he only had to switch out his grading labcoat for a sleeping labcoat. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes from the long night he had and for the long day ahead, and folded the glasses neatly before he placed them next to his phone. He slipped under his periodic table print sheets and promptly collapsed into exhaustion on his pillow.

Carlos wakes up. Not suddenly, he still hasn't had much sleep in the past few days, but slowly, and with caution. He no longer feels his pillow beneath his head, nor his hair spilling out around him and grazing at his neck, nor the comforting embrace of his favorite sheets. Instead, he feels...gravel. His head squirms atop the tiny shifting pebbles and inside it grows worried at the prospect of this strange gravel dirtying up its hair, forcing it, or Carlos, to take a shower before work, which he was not planning on doing to save time. Carlos' eyes, drained of all energy from looking at pages after pages of first year's assignments, still refused to do their job. Carlos comes to realize this, and so, he starts to attack the issue with his other senses. He wouldn't be able to see much of anything without his glasses anyway.

He smells dry grass far away and used earth close up. He breathes in the temperate night air. If he focuses on not hearing the gravel beneath his hair, he can hear a slow bout of breathing, a still beating heart, and a lively buzz of activity, of intrigue.

He reaches out to feel anything but that awful gravel and grabs hold of something. A long, cold, metal stick. It curves on one end and ceases on the other, being replaced with a small glass sheet-oh it's his glasses. He places them atop his eyes and dramatically gains back his vision. First, he sees his hands, then the gravel and the grass, and then a sign.

"Welcome To Night Vale | "If You Lived Here, You'd Be Dead By Now""

"Well that's... informative," Carlos mumbled into the void. It was always easier for him to gather his thoughts when they weren't thoughts, and rather, spoken aloud.

"I should probably call Dr. Kayyali's office and tell her I'll be late. Maybe I could ask Rochelle to cover my class?" He looked around for his phone, even patting his sweatpants pockets down, but he didn't seem to have taken it with him, if he had any choice in the matter, that is. His previously slow breath hastened. He suddenly woke up on a gravel road outside of some strange town, most likely in the southwestern US due to the cacti and rock formations in the distance, which meant he was very far from home. He surveyed the immediate area in a tight circle to gather any data he may have missed. Like the other side of that sign. The 'Night Vale' side was a crisp evergreen with white text, while the other side was carrot-orange and had yellow text that read, "Welcome To Desert Bluffs | "We're All Smiles"". This 'Desert Bluffs' did sound more inviting, but it seemed he was much closer to Night Vale and would have to get help there, lest he also miss his 9 o'clock meeting. And so, he kept his scientist wits about him, and marched right into Night Vale.

He'd been walking for almost 20 minutes now, making very little progress. An empty corn field passed him by awhile ago, and he was now walking towards a rundown house with the letters "L. L." nailed to its mailbox. Perhaps this 'L.L.' could be of some help? Carlos mulled it over, weighing the endless cons to the pro, and absentmindedly strolled onto the highway. He froze like a baby fawn at the two growing balls of light. He hadn't yet achieved all he hoped to achieve, discovered all he hoped to discover, and yet, here he was. Face to face with the great beyond in some mysterious town. He felt a wave of fear flow through his body. Not flow, waft. And not fear, but a sudden warm wind, followed by smoke. He choked on the smoke before realizing,

"I'm not dead?" He looked behind him and, sure enough, that metal harbinger was still cruising down Route 800, like it hadn't just run him over. His scientific instincts kicked in as he launched an investigation, by trying to hitch a ride. He hadn't noticed any cars passing by earlier, but now the highway was filling up quickly. He could only see shadows of people in the driver's seats, and none of them pulled over to help the lost scientist. He tried knocking on the glass of one car's passenger-side window, only for his fist to pass clean through. He attempted to steady himself against the vehicle and fell to the rough asphalt.

"They're not...real?"

The next fifteen minutes blur. Tears whipped away by wind as Carlos runs the length of the highway, searching for a quiet place to gather his thoughts. He sees the highway's ramp up ahead, forcing his path to diverge. Right towards an elementary school or left towards town. He turns to the left, as no school would be open this early. At least he had some sense left after those paranormal cars were through with him. Although, this street, Earl Road, seems to be nothing but empty lots. And...a grocery store? He had never heard of a 'Ralph's' before, but he'd also never been to the west coast before. He speeds up his pace, praying to any god that the Ralph's had a phone he could use.

Nothing was real here either. Well, the Ralph's was real, the automatic doors opened for Carlos and he could still inspect the products-he wanted to inspect them thoroughly-but the people weren't real. He had attempted one of his least favorite activities, talking with strangers, at least 20 times by now, but not one shadow-being had heard him. He passed straight through their bodies and carts but they gave no reaction. Finally, while he was staring at the precariously stacked orange display, a small voice broke the noise.

"Sir, are you lost?" He feels a bony finger tap on his shoulder. He screams.

"Now now, young man, I can't help nobody screaming in the produce aisle. Where are you from, anyway? A pretty face such as yourself don't come here on vacation."

Carlos focuses on his breathing and composes himself before responding to the old lady.

"Um, yes, ma'am." He removes her weathered hand from his shoulder. "May I ask you something?"

She chuckles. "No need to be so formal. The name's Josie Ortiz. You need my help, don't you?"

"Y-yes, Josie. But, I wanted to ask, how can you...see me?"

"I haven't gone blind yet, and I suggest you change up that attitude before you leave this Ralph's more black and blue than a whale in a tar pit." She turns back to her cart and starts to walk away.

"Wait, that's not what I meant!" Josie looks back at Carlos. "I just- no one else can hear me or see me a-and I can walk through them? I'm just trying to get back home..." He feels tiny, hot tears welling in the corners of his eyes and sniffles.

"Ooooh, I see. Well, why don't ya head down to Cecil at his station?" She offers with a soft laugh. "I bet he could help you out."

"The station...oh, you mean the police station! The police would have to have a working phone. Thank you, Josie, so much." His voice drifts off, interspersed with footsteps as he runs back through the automatic doors into the early morning.

"Police station? The Sheriff's Secret Police won't help you-he's gone. Well, good luck finding your way home, interloper. Now, what aisle is the butter in this week?"

Carlos had run across almost all of Earl Road looking for the police station, but his legs were soon giving out as his energy stores depleted. He had passed a Subway, a local pizza shop, and an ice cream parlor, and was beginning to regret not having his wallet on him as he fell asleep, despite that being a really weird thing to do. He sat down on the curb and spread his tired legs out into the street since they couldn't get run over anyway. A portion of him wishes they would just, maybe, disappear? They had done a terrible job today at directing him towards any sort of safety. At this rate, he would never make it back home and he began to wonder if he had already written his will. That sounds like something he would've done by now, right? Any number of experiments could go horribly wrong, and he had wanted his best friend, Rochelle, to take his spot as 'Head of the Science department'. He wasn't sure if a last will had that power, but Dr. Kayyali liked him well enough that she might say yes.

But while he was going over his own funeral arrangements for only the second time that month, a loud car horn blared much too close. Carlos pressed the balls of his palms to his ears to such a degree that most people would think it more painful than a car horn. But those people would be wrong. The cacophony ceased, and Carlos looked up to see a man in a white pickup truck.

"Hey, interloper! Could ya move your legs out of the road?"

"Oh yes, of course!" Carlos scrambled back on his feet and made a mental note to google 'interloper definition' when he had access to the internet again. Wait... "You can see me?!"

"Of course, I can see ya! In fact, I saw you leaving the Ralph's just a few minutes ago, all excited and full of energy. I was leaving my buddy's place and was gonna pick up some food, but here you were again. All deflated on the side of the road. Son, are you out of luck?"

The man didn't seem much older than Carlos, perhaps even younger, but he made no rebuttal. He just nods and replies with the usual, "My day is spent and my spirit's dead."

The man nods in understanding, he reaches over the center console to unlock the passenger door. Before Carlos can object he adds, "Come on now, take a ride. You sit yourself in the passenger side, and I'll go your way cause I don't got much to do today." He pats the empty seat and Carlos slides in beside him.

"Thanks for the ride. My name's Carlos, by the way." He offers an approximation of a smile at the man driving the truck.

"I don't do small talk," the man shoots back as he adjusts his rear view mirror.

"Oh..." is all Carlos can muster as he shrinks further into the leather seat.

"I'm just messing with ya, kid. Name's Frank," he lets out more of a bark than a laugh while he punches Carlos' arm. "So, you ain't from round here. Got someplace you need to be?"

He had completely forgotten about his interaction with Josie on account of his empty stomach woes. "I think? This old woman said I should head down to the station, that they could help me out." He rubbed the sore spot on his arm.

"Josie? That doll, of course she would recommend Cecil. I mean, I would've too, everyone in town would, but those two have always been close pals." Frank shifted the car back to drive and turned left onto 5th. "What's your business in Night Vale, anyway? You some kinda-" He eyes Carlos' pajamas. "-mattress salesman?"

"Huh? I'm a scientist. This is a labcoat," he pinches his sleeping labcoat between his thumb and index finger and gives Frank a 'What the heck are you talking about?' face.

"A..scientist, riiiight," he nods indistinctly, taking another left onto Main Street.

Carlos picked at his cuticles a little until he remembered, "Frank, do you have a smartphone?" It was always safe to specify, especially in a smaller desert town.

"Sure do, what? You need to do some...skyence?" 'A for effort', Carlos concedes silently.

"No, I just wanted to check your map app so I can see how far away from home I am." 'Hopefully Rochelle won't mind driving out to get me', he sighs, though he knows he'll never hear the end of it from her.

"'Course! Here-" he pulls out his phone and unlocks it while at a traffic light and holds it out for Carlos, "It's the one on the top right."

"Thanks." Carlos takes the phone from Frank's hand, being careful not to touch him in the process, and diverts his attention to the corner of the screen. "Cartographer's Cursed? Don't you have Google Maps?"

"I get that a lot, but no, this model only comes with the ol' CCGPS."

"Of course," he replies, even though he's never heard of this particular GPS app. The phone looks strikingly similar to Carlos' own iPhone 4, which is presumably still charging on his bedside table, but a small fracture in the corner is secreting an orange slime. He elects to ignore the phenomenon for sake of time and taps on the unfurled map icon. His eyes widen at the screen. "Oh no."

"'Oh no'? What- what'd you find?" Frank looks back and forth between the slack-jawed Carlos and the road.

"I really am in California."

"Cali-whatnow?" Carlos shoots a strange look at Frank, but he's driving so it hits the back of his head.

"I'm about 4,000 kilometers away from home."

His legs had truly failed him, if he somehow walked here. It was more likely he was kidnapped and dumped in the desert and left for dead. Perhaps some rival university? Carlos wasn't sure.

Carlos was sure that Frank had been stealing glances at him in between staying on the road. He was probably silent for several months after he dropped the phone, or minutes, what time is it anyway? '5:52' flashed over the car's radio screen. He presumes it is 5:52.

The truck turns again, onto 1st this time. How far off is this town's police station?

"Police station? You don't want the Secret Police involved in this," Frank gestured to the confused passenger on his right. Either he read Carlos' mind, or Carlos accidentally questioned that out loud.

"But that's where Josie told me to turn to. A police station is scientifically my best bet out of this... Back home."

"Did she mention a man by the name of Cecil?"

"Umm, maybe? The grocery store was uncharacteristically loud for 5AM."

"Then she was talking about Cecil Palmer, he runs the radio station. It's just up ahead."

"How could a radio host help me in this situation? I fail to see the scientific reasoning behind that "

"He may not be a scientist, but his job is sort of to help people. Or at least keep them well-informed."

Carlos sighs. A radio station might at least have a phone line he could use. He hands the smartphone back to Frank as he pulls into a diner parking lot.

"The radio station's right next door to the Moonlite All-Nite. Cecil's show starts in a few, you could maybe catch him before he's on air," he explains as he pockets his phone and exits the truck, causing Carlos to do the same.

"Thanks, Frank. You've really been a huge help."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right next door at Moonlite if he's busy or something. Don't be a stranger, interloper."

"Yeah, sure, thanks."

There's only about a dozen feet between him and the radio station, but this gap seems immensely more daunting than Earl Road. Carlos finally trudges over, weighed on by the gods it seems, and stands atop a concrete car bumper. He strains his vision in the early light to see a figure in the window. He hears a far-off clock tower chime. He hears the radio through the open window of Frank's truck. He hears a voice obviously calling off the radio but also inexplicably all around him.

"You are safe now, listener. Safe for now. You are not safe later. But let's not dwell on the future. Welcome to Night Vale."

As the radio show's music is blaring out the truck and in Carlos' brain, he sits down. He can no longer hear, but he can see. Above the horizon line, just left of the sun, he sees a dark planet. It is a planet of awesome size, lit by no sun. An invisible titan, all thick black forests and jagged mountains and deep, turbulent oceans. He sees a dark planet and he hears the music from the radio and he reaches his hand up towards the sky, towards the titan. And he no longer sees.

Clarity. Uncharacteristic clarity for this early in the morning. How early is it? Carlos reaches for his phone and his glasses. The phone reads '6:15', and he is able to read it as his glasses are already on his face. Was he really that exhausted that he forgot to take off his glasses? He needs a shower, and a coffee. He skips over the missed alarm notification and almost misses the text from Rochelle about covering her class. Goddamnit, Rochelle. He really needs to cash in some favors of his own on her. Or maybe just one big one.

[megan-loves-surveys]

#43.

According to your ex, are you a b-word? I don't know what they think of me and I don't care.

Are you easily amused? Definitely.

Do you miss someone? Kinda.

Who was your last received call from? Work.

Do you think you'll be married in five years? No.

When was the last time you cried? The other day.

What woke you up today? My alarm.

Have you done anything embarrassing lately? Probably lol.

Are you currently frustrated with a girl? No.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? My Mum.

Will you be up before seven AM tomorrow? I'm working tomorrow, but I don't need to get up THAT early lol. I'll get up around 7:30 or so.

Do you currently have a hickey? No.

Do you hate girls? I love them, I am one!

Did you date anyone last summer? Yep.

When was the last time you used a walkie talkie? I don't think I ever have lol.

Do you like to take walks? Sure.

What're the last three things you had to drink? Fruit juice, Starbucks frappe and water.

Have you ever dated the same person twice? No.

Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the past three months? Yep.

If you could move somewhere else, would you? Maybe.

Are you dating the person that texted you last? No, we're BFFs haha.

Are you mutually best friends with anyone? Yes.

How many people have you had sex with in the past week? 1, my boyfriend.

What's your middle name? Sarah.

Would you rather spend a whole day with your mom or your dad? Both of them!

Where were you twelve hours ago? I was in the shower LOL xD

Is it easy for others to make you feel awkward? Depends.

Do you know what you're going to wear tomorrow? Yes - I'm working so I'll wear black pants, a blouse and my grey blazer with heels, then after work I'll change to yoga pants and a hoodie to go the gym.

Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming? No.

Have you ever passed out from drinking too much? No.

What're you doing tomorrow? Work and then the gym with Ngawari.

Have you ever been mooned? No.

What color are your socks? They're grey and pink winter fluffy socks xD

Do you shave? Yep.

What was the reason behind the last time you cried? My stomach hurt and woke me up in the middle of the night :/

Are you shy? I can be, but I'm not too bad.

When was the last time you shared a bed with someone? The other night.

Did your ex hurt you emotionally when you broke up? No.

Did you lose your virginity to someone you were in love with? No.

Have you ever loved someone without ever meeting them? No.

Where were you at eight AM this morning? Sleeping.

What's your favorite fruit? Banana.

How many times did you go see the Twilight movie? None.

What’s going on with you tomorrow night? Nothing in particular.

Do you get bad mood swings? No.

Do you wish you never dated someone you dated? Probably.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night? Not in the middle of the night, but that sore stomach I mentioned woke me up about 5am :(

Are you afraid of commitment? I guess so, considering I don't want to get married xD

Would you hug the last person you hugged again? Yes.

How did you get together with your last ex? We were set up by mutual friends.

Does your mom color her hair? Yep.

Do you know anyone who has road rage? Not seriously.

Has anyone ever told you they wanted to be with you forever? Yes.

Are you still with them? Yes.

Have you ever slept with the opposite sex and not had sex with them? Yes.

Do you think political correctness has gone too far? I think it has in some ways, especially when people try to cancel things from the past for not matching up to today's standards.

What is a recurring thought on your mind today? Hmm...

Have you had any confrontations with anyone lately? No.

What is the last charity you donated to? Make A Wish.

Do you feel all fuzzy and good when you do a good deed? Sure.

Don't ya just hate foot cramps? Yes.

Would you say you have an infectious laugh? Prob not.

Shouldn't you be doing something else right now? No lol.

Do you have anything planned for the summer? It's winter lol.

What is something you worry about often? My health.

Are there any mountains nearby where you live? Loads, the suburb I live in is named after one in fact lol.

Did you like to collect frogspawn as a kid? No idea what that is.

Do you walk fast or slow? In between.

Do you keep birthday cards or throw them out? Keep them.

Would you consider yourself healthy? Mostly, but like I said, I do worry about certain parts of it.

Do you play any team sports? If so, which position do you play? No.

What would you do if you found a small, lost child? Depends.

Have you ever watched the devil's rejects? Opinions? No.

Do you listen to Dimmu Borgir? No idea who that is.

Would you agree that the best music comes from North Europe? No, it comes from all over the world.

Have you pointed out any of my spelling or grammar mistakes so far? No.

Does sitting in waiting rooms drive you insane? Yes.

What form of public transport do you use most often? Bus, with train in second place.

Would you consider yourself an adrenaline junkie? Nah.

What catches your eye first when it comes to the opposite sex? Their face.

What moisturiser do you use? Nivea.

Do you ever go onto 'failblog'? No.

Do you ever put sticky notes around the place to remind yourself of things? No.

Would you eat a spider for $50? Hell no. You'd have to pay way more than that lol.

Would you rather be a kangaroo or a koala? Koala.

What is a common slang word from where you live? "Sweet as" lol.

If you had to go to a fancy dress party later, what would you dress as? Like a costume? A school girl or something haha.

Would you consider yourself a leader or a follower? Depends.

Do you keep your fingers on the home keys when you type? I type properly if that's what you mean.

Are you easy to talk to? I hope so.

Can you juggle with more than two items? No.

Do you own a pair of rollerskates? No.

Has anyone ever assumed you can't speak english? No.

Do you live in a rural or an urban area? Urban.

At airports do you ever worry your luggage won't arrive? Oh my god, yes lol. They always did, but it's a worry haha.

Do your parents ever call you 'pet' or 'sweetheart' etc? if so, does it annoy you? No.

Do you like jalapenos? Not the actual things, but jalapeno flavoured things are great.

Do you know any really tall Asian people? Yes, Lulu is Chinese and she's super tall.

Have you ever been knocked out? Yes.

What other windows have you currently got opened? iTunes, LibreOffice Writer and Discord.

What woke you up this morning? My alarm.

Who else is in the same building as you? In our house, my Mum. In the rest of the complex, any number of people lol.

What is your favourite childhood book? Hmm...

Would you like a penny farthing bicycle? No.

Will your day be a good one? It's almost over, and it was good.

What colors of mascara have you worn on your lashes?: No idea.

What color ARE your lashes?: Black.

What font do you usually use?: Depends.

What about font colors?: Black usually.

Are you good at making graphics or designing layouts?: No.

Do you put gel or mousse in your hair?: No.

Blow dry your hair or naturally let it dry? Towel dry, maybe? Blow dry it, I hate how it goes when it dries naturally - it goes all flat and weird.

Ever seen the movie SLC Punk?: Never heard of it.

How about The Crow?: No.

Any Tim Burton movies?: Probably.

Have a favorite actor/actress?: Not really.

Current favorite song?: Angelina Mango - La Noia

A movie you’ll never get sick of?: None.

Do you write stories?: Yep.

How about poetry in general?: No.

Do you talk to yourself?: Yep. Everyone does xD

Ever used to have an imaginary friend?: Yep.

Believe in heaven/hell?: No.

Believe in God/Satan?: No.

What is a Juggalo?: A fan of that ICP group or whatever they're called.

Do you wear pajamas to bed?: Yes.

Sleep with just one pillow?: Yes. It used to be 2 but then I got a big thick heavy bamboo pillow so now I only need 1.

How often do you remember your dreams?: Sometimes.

Ever used a dreamcatcher? If so, did it work? No.

Ever woke up crying?: Probably.

Ever got inspired to do something different?: Dunno?

Ever took ballet, jazz, or tap dancing classes?: No.

Do you like big dogs or small dogs better?: Big, but they're all cute.

What’s your opinion on Britney Spears?: I adore her. Her discography is GOAT and I cheered when she got her freedom from her Dad and the conservatorship. She deserves nothing but happiness.

What about Christina Aguilera?: She's extremely talented and I love most of her music, but she seems a bit bitchy to me.

Avril Lavigne?: I used to hate her music, but I listened to her last couple of albums recently and they're actually pretty good, so I like her now. She also seems like a cool person.

Lindsay Lohan?: I'm glad she got back on track and is happy now, she deserves it, she had a hard time.

Hilary Duff?: She seems down to earth and was one of the only non problematic ex Disney stars, so good for her.

Good Charlotte?: Not my thing.

Simple Plan?: See above.

Tupac?: I don't really know anything about him and rap isn't my genre lol.

Ever heard of the band Zug Izland?: No.

Do you know what a Liger is?: No.

Whatever happened to Rice Krispie’s Treats cereal?: It had a cereal?

How many phones are in your home?: 2.

Are you going to graduate high school on time?: -

Going to a 4-Year college or just a 2-Year?: -

Are you even GOING to college?: I already did.

Gonna move out when you’re 18?: -

Drive away from home as soon as you get your own car?: -

Happy with your parents, or pissed?: I love my parents.

How many framed pictures are in your room?: A few.

Ever thought of enrolling in the Armed Forces? If so, what exactly? Hell no.

Do you take any pills daily?: No.

Know any pill poppers?: No.

Do people consider you random at times?: Probably.

On AIM, do you put up away messages or just go idle more often?: -

Been to the zoo lately?: Not for years.

Own any fuzzy pens or gel pens?: No.

Wear a specific necklace every day?: No.

Ever been grounded? If so, what’s the longest time you’ve been grounded and from what? Never lol.

Would you ever work at a movie theater? Sure.

Do you have a phone charger in your car? -

Do you live far from your parents? I live with my Mum, and my Dad lives on the other side of the city.

What was the last type of smoothie you drank? I think probably mango or something.

Do you think you have a wide vocabulary? Sure.

Describe your current position: Sitting on my office chair with my left leg over my right.

Have you used a microwave today? No.

What is your favorite mobile app? Facebook, Pokémon Sleep & Go and Discord.

Have you ever slept through an alarm? Probably.

Do you have lactose intolerance or know anyone who does? I have it mildly.

Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I can go alone, but it's good to have someone to wait with lol.

Which household chore do you hate the most? Anything to do with the bathroom.

Do you like pineapple on pizza? Yes.

Do you like to hold hands? Sure.

Will you sleep alone tonight? Yes.

How do you feel right now? I'm tired, but I'm in a good mood.

What are your plans for tonight? Nothing.

Do you want a tattoo? No.

Have you ever kissed the last person you text messaged? No.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? Dunno.

Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? No, I have green eyes, he has brown.

Have you smoked a cigarette in the past 24 hours? No.

Are you the youngest? Only child.

Do you often press the wrong keys on the keyboard? No.

What’s your favourite type of cake? Any.

Do you have any life changing plans within the next 6 months? No.

Do you think people over thirty should be able to have sex? What the fuck kinda question is this? LOL.

When’s the last time you played the board game Clue? Dunno.

[carmenized-onions]

Zero Pulse. | Oven Hotfix

logline; It's Friday.

[!!!] series history, this is the tenth; You're gonna need to check to make sure you're caught up babe because there's a LOT of context behind this one.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Wish you could sort by emotions, on playlists, but this is really a very good playlist i think.

portion; 12.5k Jesus Christ, new record.

possible allergies; Incredibly excessive hateful self-image, very frivolous way of talking about mental illness/death/Mikey, I'd say just like ? stress? BLOOD ALSO !! minor cut dw

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd into oblivion this round, mb)

said it before i'll say it again, this is the new best and longest chapter i've written-- of all time now. and im being so fr if i don't get actually like harassed in my inbox with the amount of people chattering about this i will WALK INTO THE PIER BITCH

It’s Friday morning, and today is the first day in possibly years that Carmen has actually snoozed his alarm. Opting to sleep in for an extra hour, despite how uncomfortable his whole body is where it lays. He’s trying to avoid waking up today— Because he knows, he can tell: Today is just not going to be his day, today. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, today— Not even—

He fell asleep on his couch, last night. His TV is still on and when he turns it off, it sizzles from being on the stupid Cooking Channel for so long. He’s covered in crumbs, hands coated in chip dust— Chin and neck sticky with spilled Diet Coke. Just don’t wake up and you won’t have to clean it. The day can’t get him, if it never starts.

But then his alarm rings again, for maybe the hundredth time, and there’s no real reason as to why this time is different from the other times, but he suddenly remembers why he fell asleep on his couch, last night. Why he had such a difficult time crawling just fifteen feet further when he got home last night. His face grows hot and red with shame and embarrassment, like a child.

A plate was sent back. A plate he made, was sent back.

Most would find it too dramatic, but he really did almost throw up. Syd gave him an antacid— From a pocket pack that you gave her. Did it help all that much? No. But at least he kept everything down. He just heaved a lot, in the walk-in. Probably good that he didn’t eat much of anything, yesterday.

He’d been thinking far too much. Spent way too long thinking about what to make for you, tonight— Which is fine, you’re inspiring— But he should’ve been keeping those thoughts to pen and paper. But he was making the stupid fucking roux for the stupid fucking order and his autopilot system got all mixed up and suddenly he was making a fantastic Montmorency, but an awful roux. Fucking brain dead, Berzatto. Talentless. Can you not handle this?

How is it possible, to fuck up that bad? You’re terrible at this. His instinct— Everyone’s instinct was to tell the patron to get off their fucking high horse. There’s always that one guest, that thinks they own the goddamn place. But then the dish came back to the kitchen, and everyone just stared. Silent. He was mortified. Is it too much for you? Practically unrecognizable, from what was ordered. It was entirely his fault. Dumb fuck. So fucking slow.

What happened to him? Seriously, what the fuck happened, to him? How could he possibly forget what’s important here? What’s at stake? He can’t look himself in the eyes when he brushes his teeth. Why are you so fucking slow? You are bullshit.

Regrettably, you happened to him; in a good and bad way.

He sighs, washing your conditioner out of his hair in the shower. Scrunching it, as you’d directed. He listens, he does. He takes direction well. Go faster, motherfucker. And he likes you, Carmen does. You are not tough. And he doesn’t fault you for being a good person, no, he faults himself.

He’s not meant to be a good person, he’s meant to be a good chef.

He’s not meant to be a good work partner, with Syd— That doesn’t get results. Everyone thinks they’re happier when he’s happier, sure, but they’re in the red. They’re not gonna be so fucking happy when their cheques start bouncing. It doesn’t matter how good a person he is— What matters is what he’s actually capable of providing— And it’s not amusement or enjoyment— It’s fucking talent. But he sought out your affections, your approval, in a key moment, in every moment— In place of who he should’ve— A Michelin Inspector.

He's let himself forget, what it meant, what it takes, to get a star.

And that made him fuck up a dish— A simple fucking dish. Again, not your fault, his. But God, he wants both. Carmen needs both. He can have both. You should be dead. He just needs to lock it in, keep it tight, push it down, comb it back, you should be dead—

He needs to spray his hair with rosemary, it’s looking thin. The basil on his balcony is coming in nicely, though.

It’s just hit four o’clock when you’re mostly finished getting ready— Well, you are ready, but, y’know, final checks and all that. You smooth out your palazzo pants. Gotta look presentable. Or at the very least, normal.

The Bear is high-class, you’re not going there as a repairman, tonight, for once. Plus, Richie wears suits twenty-four fucking seven now— So you need to dress accordingly, or he and every other guest there are going to look at you like you’re some broke freak. Which, like, not inaccurate, but still hurtful. You’ve broken out the good but not too good jewelry. Money talks, wealth whispers, or some shit. Black turtleneck, blue pants— To match the stupid fucking Executive Chef’s eyes, or whatever, shut up! The pants are not actually that bright, but you think they’d still pair well with Carmen. And even if they didn’t, they match The Bear’s aesthetic, and you like to remain on theme, even when there isn’t really at all a required theme.

Not like you’re going to be seeing much of Carmen tonight, anyway. As much as you’d like to see him, he didn’t send you his Connections, this morning, not even after you sent yours, and you’re taking that as a sign that today is probably rough. And not in the way that can be helped by talking to a person, either, in fact, probably the exact opposite.

You debate whether or not to wear Carmen’s jean jacket. This is a thin turtleneck, and it’d go really well with the whole outfit, and like, Sydney already caught on— It’s only a matter of time before the whole kitchen clocks it.

Yeah, fuck it, hard launch this situationship. You toss it over your shoulders. Okay, okay, one last last final fit check. Hm. Yeah, you’ve definitely gotta put the necklace away. You kiss the plastic pendant for good luck, before tucking it under your shirt. Not ready for that story, just yet. You will be, eventually. But you certainly don’t want Carmen to notice and ask about it. Soon, though. You will, soon.

You grab your purse, your keys, your finished art piece— Wrapped, neatly, in brown paper, with a little card taped to it. Okay, that’s everything. One last last last final review. Makeup? Great. Hair? Perfect. Outfit? Stunning— Fuck, what shoes are you going to wear? Fuck fuck fuck—

Alright, you know it’s not the shoes you’re worried about. Just get out the door, Chip. It’s gonna be fine, Chip. Dinner’s gonna be good, and normal, actually, because two people having their first real one-on-one conversation after their mutual best friend killed himself just under a year ago is historically always super calm and chill and normal, actually. That’s how that works. It’s not gonna be tense, at all.

This is immediately so tense. “Hey. Good to— Good to see you.”

You go in for the hug, so does Richie, only then do you both realize how full your hands are. And then it becomes a weird side hug from you combined with a full hug from him. It’s terrible, this is terrible, this is so tense. Maybe you can still run and have it not be weird, somehow.

“You— Too.” Richie clears his throat, “Cousin.”

It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen each other since, no, you’ve seen each other thrice now, but it was different all those times. You were helping Carmen escape a freezer, or having an episode over a broken toilet, or delivering a baby— It wasn’t awkward all those times because it couldn’t be. You didn’t have time to be awkward, they were always emergencies.

“So uh, Fak’s gonna be our, our server?”

“Yessir.”

“He any good?”

“No-sir.”

But this meet up is intentional, booked. It’s got a point to it, and both of you know what it is. You’re just anxiously waiting for the other person to be brave enough to bring it up. Thankfully, neither of you have to, just yet, as Fak sidles up to the host stand.

He’s pushing so many buttons on the P.O.S. before even speaking to either of you that you’re starting to believe he doesn’t know what the fuck the buttons he’s pushing are doing. Based on the way Richie starts to lean over the stand to see what he’s doing, you’re pretty sure you’re right.

“I— I got it, man.” Fak puts a hand up, defensive. Richie backs up, then gestures for Fak to get the fuckin’ show on the road. He does.

“Table for, for uh, how many are you?”

“Oh wow.” It comes out of you instantly, in a true state of shock, at how bad this is already going. You cover your mouth, uh oh, inside thought became outside thought. “Sorry!”

Richie loses it, next to you. You slap his shoulder with your free arm, but you’re laughing too. “Don’t be mean!”

“You’re the one bein’ mean, Chip!”

“I didn’t— He’s trying.” You turn your head back to Fak. “I— Table for two, darling. M’sorry.”

Fak is quick to fold and forgive you, you’ve just called him darling— If a siren ever called to him, he would be dead. “Right, right this way— My name is Neil, I’ll be your server, tonight.”

You follow him to a table that lets you see pretty well into the kitchen. It’s a decent trade-off for not getting a cozy little booth. You look into the window, everyone’s far too focused to know you’re here, right now, but that’s okay— It’s not rushed right now, though, so that is a little… weird.

Richie pulls out your chair, fake Italian chivalry, and what not. When you’re half way through sitting down, a few things are realized instantly, and all three of you speak simultaneously.

“Oh, I should drop this off in the back, first.” Your art piece, you mean.

“Is that Carmy’s?” Your jacket, Fak means.

“You’re fucking Carmen?” What the fuck else could Richie possibly mean.

“I—” You pause, pointing to Fak, first. “Yes, it is.” Then pivot to Richie, “No, I’m not. It’s more like a reservation—”

“Don’t talk about your sex life like it’s a restaurant.” He waves his hand in the air, immediately regretting asking. Listen, it was just the first metaphor on the brain.

“You fuckin’ asked! And we haven’t done shit yet— Not even a fuckin’ date, a’right? Technically not even dating.” It takes maybe, two seconds, in the presence of Richie, for you to go full Chicago accent. It’s unhinged. You have to stand up. “I’m gonna drop this off, in the back.” You lift up the wrapped piece. “I’ll be back, don’t be weird.”

As you walk off, you do your best to pretend you don’t hear Fak mumbling, “Bet it’s one of those sex paintings.”

But it’s very hard to do so when Richie all but booms out a resounding and genuinely baffled, “...What?”

As much as you’d like to continue to hear that insane conversation, you swing through the door, and it’s thankfully a pretty soundproof divider, considering all the yelling you know happens in here.

“Chefs, table twenty-four, two people.” “Yes, Chef.”

Or… Maybe… It’s instead, weirdly subdued? In a tense way, not a calm way. Like when a knife falls off a table, and you’re not sure if it’s going to stab you in the foot and there’s no time to pull back.

“Twenty-one, four people.” “Yes, Chef.”

That kind of quiet. The calm before the storm, maybe. The fall before the blood, you think may be more accurate. God, Syd looks exhausted and it’s only half past four. The rush hasn’t even started yet. Why are they pushing so hard, right now?

Carmen’s on expo. Which, based on the night terrors he told you about, seems like a recipe for fucking disaster. Again, he’s not yelling. His voice is monotone, it sounds dead, frankly, and you’re wondering if you would prefer him screaming, actually.

There’s a mantra, amongst first responders, that it’s better to hear screaming than silence, because then you know they have a pulse, they’re drawing breath, they’re able to feel. You can’t honestly tell, with Carmen.

Syd hands off a plate to expo, to Carmen. He calmly, quickly— And like, really quickly, barely more than a two second glance is given, to the dish, before he says, “Refire, Chef.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. Not your business, not your restaurant, don’t overstep. But God, it hurts to watch the order hit Syd in the face, like a splash of cold water. She repeats, in disbelief. “Refire?” The dish looks fine to her— And it sure as fuck looks fine to you.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Why, exactly? Chef?”

Carmen does not look up from his system, he does not watch what is practically heartbreak, mortification, tempered anger, play out on Syd’s face. “Not perfect. Fire twenty, twenty-five— Two waiting on twenty, Chefs.”

“Heard!”

“Not perfect?”

He looks up, finally, at her. You can only see the back of his head, so you can’t tell the look. “Sauce is broken.” It’s definitely not. Well, at least to your untrained eye, it’s not. “We don’t serve what’s not perfect. Do we, Chef?” He slides the plate aside, deading it.

“Do you want your star, or not?” You don’t think he means to be antagonistic, or at least hope he doesn’t, but it really comes off that way. He rubs his chest, but his tone lack empathy.

Syd closes her eyes, taking a breath. She has so many words, for this man, but she holds her tongue. She does not rub her chest in return, she just restarts the dish. “Yes, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef.”

There’s a lull in orders, for the moment, so you very gently place your hand on Carmen’s back, to make him aware of your presence. As gentle as you try to be, he still flinches. Anyone over his shoulder would make him flinch right now, but it’s you. “Oh—!”

Now, do you let out a small yelp, inadvertently, when he turns to look at you, and you see him as he is right now? Yeah, yeah you do.

“—Good to— Did you just scream, at the sight of me?”

Syd puts a hand over her mouth, heavy exhale of laughter still escaping through her nose. Schadenfreude.

Your mouth hangs open, for a second, squinting, goddammit, inside thought got outside, “…No?”

“What— What, I look bad?” He’s immediately looking over himself, trying to find the culprit. And though the emotion he’s feeling right now is insecurity, you feel relief that at the very least, the glow of anything is shining through him, right now.

Doesn’t make you a fan of the slicked-back hair look, though. That’s what made you yell— Like when a dog or a baby doesn’t recognize their parent. Like when Mikey shaved for the first time after you met him, and you considered him completely unrecognizable. You practically ignored him until some stubble came in. What did he expect?

You also just don’t like it. Clean-Shaved Mikey nor Hair-Gel Carmen. The pomade is overpowering your shampoo, and now he doesn’t smell like you. Doesn’t smell like him. His curls are all gone— Man, his pattern was just starting to revive, too. He looks just too clean, too cookie-cutter, too… Someone else. He just doesn’t look like— “No, Bear, you look good— I just— You look— Don’t look like the Carmy I’m used to, is all.”

Who are you to tell him what he looks like? You don’t know why, but the energy today is just making you feel like… You’re intruding, you’re stepping in on a space that has nothing to do with you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, right?

He nods, compartmentalizing, only acknowledging that you’ve said he looks good. “You look nice.”

“I clean up.” You shrug, it gets a nearly imperceptible smile out of him. Hm. Where’d your Carmen go? He’s really making you work for it, tonight. You gesture to your painting, holding it by your knees. “Not here to disrupt, M’just gonna put this in your office, for later.”

“Painting?”

“Incredible guess.” Again, that smile and that exhale of laughter, thin. “Yes, it’s the piece— Wait ‘til close, to open it, please.”

He nods, when you start to walk off, he grabs your arm. “Ah, uh—” He lets go. “Can I, uh— I planned— I planned an off-menu main, for you, is that, that okay—”

“It would always be okay, yeah.” You nod, reassuring. It would be more than okay, if Carmen decided and designed every meal you ever had for the rest of your life, you think. “Trust you— With, with my taste buds.”

You’re not sure if it’s the right move, but you awkwardly step forward and kiss Carmen’s temple anyways— In his hairline. He seems to care a lot about appearances, right now, so you don’t want to get lip gloss on his forehead. Despite your quickness, there is still a very childish ‘ooooh’ reverberating throughout the kitchen. But he’s ignoring it, so you ignore it too. Carmen, more than anything, would like to reciprocate, but he’s running a kitchen, and he cannot let himself nor the crew get distracted. He nods, smile small, and turns back to his station.

“Waiting on twenty, Chefs.”

You don’t take it personally; the guy is busy, what can you do? You drop the painting off in his office, leaning it against the table for Carmen’s perusal after close— It’s not the kind of piece he should look at during his break— Who are you kidding, you saw him, he’s not taking a break tonight. God, he might hate this piece. What if he hates this piece? It’s a risk you have to take, it’s art. Hopefully the card will help smooth any questions over. You’re clearer over text, you think.

On your way out of the kitchen, you nod to Marcus and Tina. A sign of ‘Hey, I’m here, I know we can’t talk, but I’m here.’ They nod back. When you pass Sydney, you take a moment to squeeze her shoulder. That star thing was rough, but you don’t know enough about cooking to intervene— It’s not your place. Still feel for your girl, though. Awe, you’ve only just noticed, she’s wearing your collar pins. She puts her free hand over yours, squeezing it in return, just for a second. She doesn’t turn to face you, but the silent encouragement and sympathy is exchanged. She gets back to work, and you get back out to the front.

If there was time for it, you’d be her designated coach and cheerleader, find a motivational bookshelf to carry somewhere again and give a speech, but there’s not. So, this will have to do, for now.

Fak is absolutely bombing every step of this introduction, when you sit back down. The second-hand embarrassment is truly eating you alive, as he stumbles through today’s specials, which, you’re pretty sure is not the order these things happen in—

“Hey, uh, Neil, wasssit?” Richie scratches his nose, attempting to play the part of blind customer. “How ‘bout drinks first, bud?” He’s trying to keep a sympathetic attitude, which is making all of his pointers come off as extremely passive aggressive.

“Yeah, for sure, right, yeah— What’uh— What can— Drinks? Hey, hey you want? Drink?”

You cup a hand over your mouth, to block your mortified expression. “Yeah, yeah, Neil, I’ll just have a water.”

“Water!” Fak yells back, way too fucking emphatically, “I— I love water, that’s so crazy.”

“Jesus Christ.” Richie holds his face in his hands, elbows on the table. “I’ll get a fuckin’…” He lifts a hand to wave in the air, willy-nilly, still not looking up. “Chippy, name a wine.”

“Red?” Richie usually doesn’t have wine. It’s the rich man’s beer. But when he does, it’s red.

“Mhm.”

He’s probably gonna get steak, just go with a safe bet, “Cab Sav, for the gentleman, please.”

Fak writes it down, but seems bewildered and confused, staring at it. “You want a taxi?”

“Oh my god.” You and Richie are in unison. Two very different tones, though. You sound baffled, he sounds like he’s two seconds from lunging.

Which, isn’t an entirely unfair reaction, Fak has been training for this moment for a month. Rich thought he’d at least be ready to start with you. You’re the least intimidating person he knows, you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Maybe that’s what makes it so difficult? That you’re too nice? Even still, Fak should at least know this, not choke as hard as he is, right now. It’s embarrassing for Richie, when his staff are flailing this bad, especially in front of the people he loves and admires.

Rich wrings his hands together, looking back up to you. “I fucking taught him this, just so y’know.”

You nod, looking to Fak. You’ve just gotta get him out of here, honestly. “Cabernet Sauvignon, baby— Just a glass, not a bottle. We’ll look over our menus, in the meantime, maybe?”

The sleeper agent line has been spoken, and the server autopilot in Fak’s brain finally turns on. “Right. I’ll just give you lovely two a second to look over your menus, alright, haha, be safe— Be back with your drinks, folks.”

The delivery may need a little work. Though you think his edits should probably start with the way he walks backwards, eye-contact unyielding, and almost trips as he pushes backwards into the kitchen door. That might be considered bad, to some.

“Trainwreck.” Richie presses his palms into his eyes. “M’fuckin’ sorry, Chippy, Jesus Christ.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t see a problem, it’s dinner and a show, baby.”

Richie laughs, at that, after a few seconds of silence, he adds. “He’s not gonna fuckin’ last.”

“Probably not.” You shrug. “But it was worth a shot. N’ he’ll do in a pinch, if you’re ever short-staffed.”

“We are always short-staffed.” Richie grumbles. “Do fuckin’ servers ever actually stage? Need the free labour.”

“What the fuck is stage?”

“I honestly still don’t know.” You both laugh. “I fuckin’ did it and I still don’t know.”

“What have you been up to, besides uh, staging?” You finally open Pandora’s box.

Well, it’ll stay small talk for a little bit, to be fair, gotta warm up to the real stuff—

“Tif’s getting remarried.”

“—Oh, holy shit.”

He nods, looking aimlessly nowhere, certainly not your eyes. “Engaged, at least— Haven’t gotten a fuckin’ invite, or anythin’.”

“You think she’ll invite you?”

“She asked.” He closes his eyes, for a second. This has been hanging over his head, all day. “Called, this uh, this morning, cause of Cousin Vinnie n’ Mira—”

“She comin’ to that?” You’ve never actually met Tif. They were on the rocks when you’d come to The Beef, so it was mostly just waves through car windows, if anything. It might be better if it stays that way, you think.

He shakes his head, “Someone’s gotta take care of Eva, n’ she’s got work. But the invite made her think of my invite, and uh, if I’d want one, come when it may.”

These are the moments you wish you had a glass of water, so you could sip and do something with your mouth and hands, as you think of what to say. He continues, because he knows you’re going to ask, “Said I’d think about it.”

“I think it’s okay, if you don’t want to.” You lean forward, as a show of sympathy. “That’d be a fuckin’ lot, for anyone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, but it’s uh, it’s— I’m good, Chip.” Richie leans back in his seat, swiping at his nose. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and you know that. He makes eye-contact, again, finally. “How’ve you been holdin’ up?”

You bite at your lip, alright, its fucking game time, this is what you’ve been prepping for, time to tell him everything you’ve been thinking about, for the past year, time to tell someone other than your former therapist what the fuck is in your head. “I—”

“Drinks! Hyah!” Fak busts through the door, far too boisterous. It scares a few patrons, and honestly you, a little bit. He returns to your table, pitcher and bottle of wine on a tray— Hey, it actually is a Cab Sav, he did it! Gotta celebrate the victories, here.

You can’t help but notice, as Fak pours your glass of water and attempts small talk, that he seems a bit more distressed than he did before he went in the kitchen. You crane your neck to peek through the window. Hm. Syd and Carmy are not where they were before. They’re talking. It doesn’t look like a fight, though. Let it lie. You’ve really got to let it lie, because Fak is in front of you, staring straight forward like he’s in a catatonic liminal state, not acknowledging either you or Richie with his gaze. A touch disconcerting, possibly.

“So, hey, you guys, you guys like food?”

Your lips form a line. “Fak, are you okay?”

“I’m great—” His voice cracks, oh dear. “Am I doing great?”

“You’re certainly trying—” “You’re fucking this up tremendously.” At least Richie is honest, and usually you are too, but, when it comes to a trainwreck, you’ve gotta tell the train they’re doing a great job. You just can’t bear to let it know it’s on fire.

When your glass of water starts to overflow, you take the pitcher from Fak’s hand so he can’t keep overpouring it in his fugue state. Jesus Christ, what happened in the kitchen? Who died? Actually, probably don’t joke about that.

It’s in within this moment that you learn a lot of things very quickly. First thing you learn, Sweeps is a server now, you guess. He’s in the suit, coming out of the kitchen, terrified, serving tray in hand, two champagne flutes wobble upon it. Second thing you learn, Sweeps is not a good server, or at the very least, isn’t right now, he’s too shell-shocked to keep any level of awareness of where he’s going. He bumps into Fak’s back. Third thing you learn, Richie has great reflexes, he catches the wine bottle from Fak’s tray. You have decent reflexes, managing to reach an arm out in time to keep Sweeps from entirely falling over and eating shit.  

You were however, not able to keep the champagne flutes from elegantly flying off of Sweep’s tray, and falling to the ground, shattering. Sonofabitch.

There’s a silence, then an overlapping chorus from the two distressed servers, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it—” That’s the fourth and last thing you’re able to clock immediately. These two know serving is not for them. They do best sweeping or fixing, not fucking talking to people. Breaking something and needing to clean it up is like a gift from God, to them, they’re genuinely fighting to be the one to clean it up. They end up tag-teaming it, as they feel Richie’s quiet glare burn into them. He’s gotten very good at silently laying down the law. They apologize, scramble to clean, hastily apologize, and rush back into the kitchen as soon as possible.

Fuck. It’s like Richie texted, Fak has shit the bed, and that almost certainly means your dinner is gonna get cut short. You’re not going to get the chance to tell him everything— Let alone anything you wanted to get out. You won’t get to apologize properly, and then he’ll head right back on his shift, and you’ll just be the kitchen’s friend that’s taking up a table. Fuck, you’ve got to try to stumble something of note out.

“I missed you, Rich.”

The man in question turns his head from looking through the kitchen window, back to you, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I was here.” Could’ve visited.

“I know.” No, I couldn’t.

He nods. The unexchanged words are still understood between the both of you, somehow. You fiddle with your fingers, gearing up to just say your big speech, you practiced it in the car ride here, if you just cut it down to the key bullet points, you can probably get it all out.

“Richie, I’m sor—”

Once again, Fak interrupts, door swinging open, he looks extremely panicked this time, tripping over nothing, sweating like it’s a million degrees, looking to both of you, alright the kitchen situation seems to have escalated. It seems like he’s about to scream to you— But then remembers that there are guests other than you and Richie, in the front of house, and so he speed walks to your table.

Richie is the one to ask this time, “Are you fuckin’ good—?”

“Uh-uh.” Fak shakes his head, in repetitive, tight small swivels. His posture militantly straight, taught, eyes darting everywhere, like there’s spies lurking in the booths, watching him. He speaks through tight teeth, to hide his words from onlookers. “Bad. Bad bad.”

“Bad bad?” You repeat after him, waiting for him to lend any explanation to the subject, he doesn’t really.

“Need you.” He nods to Richie. Then nods to you. He looks… Disdainful? Remorseful, maybe. To be doing so. “You too. Bad.”

Richie looks to you, letting you make the call, here. You look at him and sigh, your plan has been utterly ruined, your speech— Dashed. He adds. “Intermission?”

There’s no way this is just going to be an intermission. “Intermission.”

You both stand, he takes his wine glass, then takes the bottle, a bit more realistic. You take your water. Cheers, and into the cesspool you go, abandoning your table, for what Richie hopes is for an interim, for what you both know is for the night.

The first thing you notice, Carmen’s not at expo. No one’s on expo, actually. Which feels like a problem. The second thing you notice is where Carmen actually is— In the walk-in— Not locked in, no, not this time. No, you notice he’s there because he’s yelling, better than zero pulse, but you still wince. All yelling makes you wince.

“Who was on veggie prep today?! What is this dice, Chefs!?” He storms out, large deli container of onions in his hand— He’s bringing it to his station— Which was Syd’s station, but he’s now co-opted it, seemingly, as she’s not there. However, in her stead, are five more containers of pre-diced veggies— You imagine Carmen brought those out, too. “We are not serving fucking sandwiches, anymore, Chefs—”

Carmen stops short of his aggression, when he sees you. You can’t tell if you like that. You’re pretty sure you don’t. What’s that stupid idiom? Mean to the world, good to your girl? Don’t like that. Don’t like two faces. Don’t like the shade on the old sandwiches— Mikey’s sandwiches, either.

Carmen doesn’t move to you, or anything like that though, no, he’s busy— With what exactly, you’re not sure. No fucking way he’s redoing all the prep right now, right? That would be insane. The dices are fine, and they can’t just waste food right now with their budget nor their time— Fucking Christ, he is actually redoing the prep and making Tina use the old for broth— Oh dear God.

The third thing you notice is where Syd really is, in lieu of her station. She’s having what looks like a panic attack with Sweeps by the ovens. Your legs move to her before your brain really registers anything else, and you can hear behind you that Richie has gone to Carmen and is handling expo. Fak did not need to tell either of you what your jobs needed to be back here, you just know.

“This is, this is just fucking great—” Syd heaves, holding onto the handle of the oven. Next to her, Sweeps is still in his hosting attire, but he’s mopping up water by Syd’s feet. There’s a tipped over mop bucket on the ground. He looks significantly more comfortable now, but still equally as distressed as the rest of the kitchen seems to be.

You put a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leaning down to her level. “Bubs, what’s going on? M’here.”

“Fucking everything is going on.” She starts to catch her breath; she brushes your hand away. You know it’s because she has sensory overload, it still kind of hurts, though. “Carmen’s fucking freaking…”

“No shit.” You step aside and lift your left foot, when Sweeps needs to mop by your feet. “Why, though?”

“On our opening night, he had a fuckin’— Episode, I dunno.” She’s still keeled over, hands on her knees, but she’s breathing. “N’ he had this like— Like saw this guy, who wasn’t actually there. Out—” She nods her head to the window to the front of house. She stands up, again. “Out there.”

“His, his old Executive— Chef.”

“Oh.”

The night terrors. The oven. The fire. The wanting it to happen, even just a little bit. The man who’s in his head, talking to Carmen, every night. The man he saw on his opening night, apparently. Your poor Carmen.

“Yeah, yeah he was like— Apparently kind of a dick—” Understatement of the century. “But like, so is he.” Syd nods to Carmen. You can’t completely deny that. You wish you could. “Anyways, he called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I fucking know.” She nods, emphatic. She then realizes that this story is going to take a second, and gestures to the oven behind her. “This won’t turn on, spilt water on it.”

“Oh.” You take a beat, then remember this is what your job is, “Oh!” You feel around the pockets of your pants. Should’ve expected to bring a screwdriver, at the very least, it’s The Bear. Get with the program. The tools are in your car, to be fair, but for a quick simple check-up—

You call out, “Yo, Fak—” “Yes?”

You jump, he’s standing a mere inch behind and adjacent from you. You hold your heart, stepping back from him, just a touch. “…Do you… Have a screwdriver?”

Neil leans back, like he’s tough, like he’s sizing you up. “Something broken?”

“Tryin’ to figure that out.”

“Cause you’re a repairman.”

“Cause I’m a repairman, yeah.”

“You got a degree?”

“Just give her the fucking screwdriver!” Syd yells before you can answer. Fak begrudgingly and with a lethargic show, hands you the screwdriver from his chest pocket.

Jealous, is he? Oh, that’s cute. That’s very cute. He’s the one that said he wanted to host— Whatever, no time to tease or bicker, you’re pulling the oven out, trying to lift as much as possible with Syd’s help, to keep from scrapping tile, but it’s inevitable.

You kneel down, taking the screws out the back, “So Exec dude, he called?”

“Uh-huh.” Syd focuses on her pan on the oven next to you— Thankfully that one did not get fucked in the crossfire— so they’re short but not fucked, just yet, at least. “Called Carmen, said he’d heard about the opening— That he wants to come try the place.”

“Right, but he’s from New York, isn’t he, you’ve got time—”

“He already took a flight here; he’ll be here in thirty.”

“Oh, my fucking God.”

“I fucking know.” Everything is going on. It’s all starting to make a lot more sense now. The kitchen’s general distress, Fak and Sweeps dropping shit from anxiety but also an inadvertent way to guarantee Richie does not table them with the fucking guy, Carmen’s sudden paranoia over someone noticing a decimal less than perfect dice— Because he would, he will.

The man in Carmen’s head that’s been torturing him has at the very least been confined to his head. And now he will be materializing, before his family, to dress him down at any opportunity, in thirty fucking minutes. Oh, your poor Carmen…

“And this guy—He’s like, like fucking big, if he likes the food— Likes The Bear— We might end up getting an inspector, in here.”

You lean out from the back of the oven, practically being swallowed by it. Confused. “Getting an inspector is a good thing?” To your knowledge, inspectors are what shuts down restaurants.

“A Michelin Guide Inspector.” Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, I fucking know!” Syd replies, emphatic, Richie calls out an order to her, from expo. She clears her throat. “Heard, Chef.”

A Michelin Guide Inspector. What’s that mean? Well, if you’re thinking correctly, it means a star. It means accolades. It means recognition. It means money. It means 800k. It means not going under. It means clawing their way back out of the woods. It means everything. Oh, fuck.

“So, anyways—” Syd sautés, violently. “Carmen fuckin’ finishes that call, storms out the office, and like demands shit to be perfect— Which like— Like it should be, I know, but like— Tellin’ me to fuckin’ mop already perfectly clean floors, is like, like fucking stupid— Especially when I’m fucking cooking here, like what?”

It’s amid this retelling, as you stand, that you notice Syd’s hand— The left one, the one on the pan’s handle, is bleeding, two of her fingers, cut. “And I— I fucked up, like, like I know I did. I dropped the mop bucket, n’— n’ now my fucking oven won’t turn on.”

You take her hand, she tries to rip it away, you don’t let her. “I cut it on the edge of the bucket, stupid sharp plastic, I’m good—”

“Lemme just bandage it.” You’re already fishing through your pocket, with your free hand.

She’s quick to shake her head. “You need to figure out how I fucked up the oven.”

“I already know what’s wrong with the oven.” You pull out your wallet, flitting through the bill fold with your fingers— You keep band-aids there, in case of emergency, because of course you do. Syd tries to tug her hand away, again. Her blood is rubbing onto your fingers. It’s not a big cut, but it’s enough. You can’t help remember the ye old days of you as teens, hearing about the concept of blood brothers for the first time, and genuinely considering going through with it. Funny what time does. Funny who it brings back.

“Then fix the oven.”

You mumble, tearing the paper open with your teeth. “This first.”

“I’m fucking good, Tony.”

“Don’t bark at me.”

She grimaces when she notices they’re children’s band-aids, with goofy little cartoon heroes on them. “I don’t fucking need—”

“Sydney, I love you.” There is no subtext, behind it. You look her in the eyes, stern. Tone inarguable. It catches the words in her throat, and keeps them there.

“Will you let me?”

She shuts her eyes, tight, for a second, and just looks away, hand going limp in your grip. Which means okay, I love you, too. She does not need to say it. You wrap two band-aids, one around each finger that got cut, and let her go.

Syd takes a second, to look at it. She looks at you.

“The Miles Morales feels racially targeted.”

“I fuckin’ hate you.” You point at her, you both break into laughter. Richie barks out another slew of numbers and orders, and it’s like getting caught talking in class. She goes back to her cast-iron, you start walking off to Rich. From behind you she mumbles.

“Love you, Inky.” Oh my God. Chippy’s a flashback, Inky is like a history textbook.

“Love ya, Squid.”

At expo, Richie’s sweating, he turns to you, and you speak at once.

“Carmy give you the run down?” — “Syd tell you the bullshit?”

You both nod. You’re first to ask, “Fuck dinner?”

“Raincheck. Let’s say.” He shrugs. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t need to be.” You nod to the oven. “Thermocouple in your oven’s broke. I have backups in my car.”

“You have backups in your fucking car?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Of the one hyper-specific part we need?”

“Yeah, the timing is crazy—” “Ey, when’d you get a fucking car, Cousin?” Richie realizes a discrepancy he simply always forgot to ask about for the past few weeks.

“Early this year. It’s a piece of shit. It works.”

He nods. “Hands!” Fak, swings by you, grabbing the plate from Richie, “Got this!”

Richie nods, smiling, very clearly fake, turning his head to watch Fak walk all the way out and have the door swing shut behind him. When he’s sure Fak can’t hear him, his head snaps right back to you. “We cannot let any of my fuckin’ staff near the fuckin’ big shot.”

It’s honestly nice that dinner is over, despite how bad you wanted to talk because now it’s this. Now it’s nostalgic. Now it’s comfortable— Distressing— But it’s you two, again. You nod. “So you’re gonna run expo and serve him at the same time?”

“What, you think I can’t?”

No, you don’t. “Of course you can, you’re Richie Jero—Uh, whatever the fuck.” You’re already walking to the back door to grab your tools.

“Jerimovich, Chippy! Not that fuckin’ hard!”

You should put oven expert on your business cards, when you eventually get to making new business cards. This is like, the third oven fix you’ve done in two weeks? And you just changed a thermocouple a few days ago! It takes you maybe five minutes tops, to switch the old wire for the good one.

When you push the stove back against the wall and test the burners— It works, thank God. You might’ve hyped yourself up a little too much before even checking that. Once you do, though, before even saying it’s fixed, Syd violently shakes your left shoulder, as a point of approval. Tina, on your right, slaps you on the back several times as her vow of praise, too. This is like riding a roller-coaster, and not in a good way.  

But it ends soon, as they’ve got to get right back to work, since Richie calls out—

“Guys fuckin’ here!” That’s like, ten minutes early, bullshit— “He brought a party of five—” Are you fucking kidding— “Booth Twelve— When I say booth twelve, don’t fuck up booth twelve, a’right, Chefs?”

“Heard!”

Where’s Carmen, right now? You look around— He’s at his station, on the final part of the line. He’s simultaneously making a dish completely on his own and doing the final touches on plates before they get sent out. Alright, okay, so maybe it’s best expo doesn’t get foisted on him, right now. But fuck, how is Richie gonna serve five and run this fucking kitchen?

Tina claps your back again, bringing you out of your state of worry. “Baby.”

“Yeah, T?” She turns your attention to a big pot of stock, on the burners that now work, thanks to you.

“Can you just stir this, f’me, for just a minute? Make sure the—”

“I’ll get the brown off the bottom yeah.”

She slaps your cheek, approving, “That’s my baby.”

And so, you stir. It’s an easy job, it just takes time— Time this kitchen doesn’t have, time you’re happy to give. Tina rushes over and takes over expo, while Richie moves out to take in stupid fucking booth twelve.

This kitchen is dysfunctional, the constant switches of expo require everyone to find a new rhythm, every time, and T needs to play catch up. Tina, Carmen, and Richie run expo just a touch differently from each other, since it’s a pretty cookie cutter job— But those minute differences change a lot. The tempo and tonal switches throw everyone off just slightly. They’re small mistakes, like a poor aesthetic sauce splatter, like Syd cutting her hand, like Marcus fucking up his saffron placement like five times in a row— It takes seconds off, it takes time. Time you do not have.

But what can you do? It’s all hands-on deck. Except for Fak’s hands. Get that man a water and a corner to sit in. He needs a second. So does the rest of this kitchen.

When Richie comes back in, it’s with a whine, he’s already so tired of this stupid fucking Michelin Exec. “—Wants to see a fuckin’ wine menu, do we have a fuckin’ wine menu?”

“No, Chef!” Syd and Carmen both chant out from other sides of the kitchen. Your ears perk up. They could’ve just asked you to make one, you would’ve. But, guess you don’t work here, technically.

Richie grimaces, “I know fuck all, bout wine.” He takes a swig of the red wine he left sitting on the expo podium. “Tastes fuckin’— Red, I dunno.”

Finally, something you can actually help with, in a critical way— Well, you just fixed an oven, but that doesn’t count, in your head. Most things you do don’t count, in your head. “T! Switch!” You whistle to her, and though she doesn’t love being ordered around, you’re already walking away from the pot, so you don’t really give her a choice.

“Rich, let me take it.”

Richie looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, but also, he finds those two heads very amusing. “Chippy...”

“I fucking know wine. I tend. I’m personable, I—”

“You don’t know how to kiss ass.”

“But I could.” You’re already peeling off Carmen’s jacket— Hey, thank God you dressed on theme, right? This could absolutely be a server’s fit. “Under duress.”

If it were up to Richie, you would already be out there. But his name is not on The Bear, as much as he’d like it to be. He looks to Carmen, who’s been staring at the both of you this entire interaction. Which is kind of concerning, he should probably be focusing on his three-quarter dice or he might to chop his fucking fingers off. No, he’s wouldn’t. He could probably do it with his eyes closed.

Carmen looks from Richie, who’s silently asking him for permission, to you. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.” You nod, tucking his jacket under the expo podium. You don’t catch the way his face hardens, just a bit— Because you turn your gaze to Richie. “I’ll just do the drinks part, like an actual somme— Warm him up, f’you, when he’s ready to order. Let you stay on expo, longer.”

Richie rocks his head back and forth, considering it. You tack on, “I’m stage— What the fuck did you call it?”

“Staging.�� Carmen answers.

“That one.”

Carmen stares at his cutting board, thinking and working, working and thinking. He does not look up at you, when he makes his decision. He just nods, “Okay.”

You nod back, happy. You don’t wait for him to change his mind. You take one quick overview of their wine rack, noting what they do and don’t have, and then you’re off, out the door, to the front of house, to a warzone.

The motherfucker at Booth Twelve sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s something about the aura he radiates, that tells you immediately that it’s him, despite not knowing his face or name. Bet it’s fucking Tony, somehow.

He’s doing his best to peer into the kitchen window without being obvious about it, which, he’s currently failing at that. Richie sat his party in a good booth, it’s just the worst booth for a good view of the kitchen. Smart. This guy is an asshole, and it’s clear from his stupid equally punchable looking friends, that he’s doing all of this on purpose.

The big party, unexpected. The him, unexpected. The asking for a wine menu. He wants you all off guard, he wants Carmen off-guard, he wants Carmen’s breath to hitch, he wants Carmen to sweat, and most importantly, he wants to watch.

You stand in front of his view, on purpose. “Hi, pleasure to serve you lovely people tonight, I’m—” No shot you’re giving this guy your real name. “—Jack, I’m your sommelier. I heard you wanted to look over a wine menu?”

“Yes,” His voice is just as stupid as you expected it to be. This is the fucking voice Carmen hears? God, lock it in, bite your tongue. “And I see you are not holding one.”

“Well, actually, we don’t carry a wine menu because we at The Bear believe in a personally curated dining experience.” You don’t miss a beat, you don’t hitch, he hates this and you can tell. “I like to think that I’m your wine menu, flip through me at your leisure.”

Your eyes crinkle, as you do an expert customer service smile. This stupid fucking table laughs at the lukewarm joke, he just smirks, because rich men don’t have time for laughter. So, their cronies do it for them.

“Well then,” He gestures his hand, giving you the floor. “What’s the menu?”

“Ah, well, was there anything on the main menu that caught your eye, so I can best pair you?”

“Hmm…” There’s a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve just expertly set him up to say ‘No.’ And then you’ll have no fucking comeback. You’ll probably throw up on the table, fuck fuck fuck— “Yes, actually.”

Oh, thank God. “The Wagyu steak with wild mushrooms and hazelnut-gruyere croquettes?”

Oh, that’s the one Carmen made for you, weeks back, you know that one. “Ah, one of my personal favourites. I’d recommend a young Pinot Grigio, maybe a 2006 Gravner?” How the fuck did you remember that? Doesn’t matter. What matters is this motherfucker is not getting under your skin.

“And what about the braised oxtail wellington?” The hot pocket, he means. You’ve had that, too.

“We have a fantastic Barolo Brunate to pair with that, Giuseppe Rinaldi 2019.” You have no idea if it’s fantastic. Who fucking cares. It’s expensive, you know that much. You only bothered to review the top rack.

“Lot of Italian vineyards.” A woman next to him comments.

“Well, we are Italian owned, so.”

It does not end there. No, why would it? No, he and his compatriots go about naming every single fucking thing on the menu, asking you to pair it. And not to toot your own horn too much, but this is, really, the one job you feel the most trained to do. All those games with Syd, all those men at Eden’s, all the parts and tools and forty different types of wrenches you have to keep track of and memorized as a repairman— Your brain is trained for this. This isn’t easy for you, sure— But you are maybe more equipped for this than any other person you could possibly think of. Good think you don’t have to think of people, you have to think of wines.

Once you survive the gauntlet, his ‘friends’ order their actual wines— Each by the bottle. Alcoholism in the food world is crazy. Also, how are you going to carry four to five full bottles here? Dear God. Whatever, you’ll live, and make insane bank— Or, The Bear, will, rather. That’s like a thousand on wine alone. When you get to Him, he puts his menu down and sighs, it’s very clearly fake.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“I’d want for nothing more.” You’d want for a lot more; actually, you’d want for him to shut the fuck up. But this is kind of a good thing. They’ve wasted a solid ten minutes just talking wine— Giving the kitchen ample time to catch up. This guy just shot himself in the foot with the sweat plan.

“This is a fine menu, but as you said, The Bear believes in a personally curated experience.” Fuck. “I don’t know if you know this, but I have a very personal relationship with the owner.” Fuck. “Would you hate me, if I asked for you to… Surprise me?”

He doesn’t need to ask for a surprise for you to hate him, is what you want to say, but instead you just smile, appeasing, kissing ass. You hate yourself just a bit for it. “I’ll see what we can do, sir. And so, you’d like a surprise wine, as well then?”

He does a customer service smile right back. You’re both passively cursing the other. “If that’s no trouble. Oh—” He tilts his head, cocky attitude really coming to a head now, “And budget isn’t a problem. Just the best.”

“I couldn’t imagine giving anything less, sir.” Another coy smile from you, before bowing and leaving their table. Your tight shoulders fall as soon as you walk back into the kitchen.

“I want him dead.”

“Agreed. Temp check?” Richie hums flitting through his notes, “We’ve got five steaks all day, Chefs, kill two. Fire now, Chefs.”

“Yes, Chef!”

You sidle up next to Rich, “They’re trying to make us sweat with quizzes. Just know your shit and they won’t be able to touch you.”

“Heard.”

“They ordered like five fucking bottles of wine.”

“Christ.” He turns to you, at that. “You upsell?”

“Didn’t have to. Named the most expensive bottles and they didn’t give it a second thought.”

He daps you up, it is difficult to hide your pride. “That’s my fuckin’ Chippy!”

You quell your smirk to the best of your abilities, especially since it isn’t all good news, “I think they’re ready to order, one problem, though.”

“Problem?” That’s when Carmen tunes in. He hands a finished plate to Richie, who hands it off to Sweeps, who begrudgingly heads out to deliver. “What’s the problem?”

“He says he wants to be surprised.”

“Like fucking Ratatouille?”

Carmen squints at Richie, for this, incredulous. You cannot back up your man, in this case, fully on Richie’s side. “Don’t act like you didn’t fuck with Ratatouille.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You didn’t see it?!” Carmen’s always liked it, when the two of you speak in unison. Carmen hates it, when you and Richie speak in unison. “You’d love it, Carm.”

Any other time, he’d love to entertain you, on this, but he can’t. It makes you both feel very cold, when he brushes past the idea. “I’ll think’ve something.”

You nod, already moving to the wine cooler, sorting out bottles. “You have time, I’ll stretch out serving them—Richie, help me bring out bottles? Take their orders? Two birds, one stone?”

“It’s bullet.” “It’s not.”

The wine pouring is nothing to write home about.

“Don’t mind us tag-teaming, didn’t want anyone to feel left out for a minute!”

But is definitely a weird vibe, when you and Richie serve this table. You’re both equally personable— Though, going as fast as you can without making them feel rushed. Richie needs to get back on expo A-S-A-P.

Despite the fact that both of you are just as nice as the other… This fucking guy is absolutely giving Richie more attitude, in comparison to you. You have a feeling the only reason he didn’t shut you down earlier with the menu is because you’re a hostess. Yeuch. Gross man senses are tingling, but maybe it’s just you.

Richie whispers to you, when you’re walking back to the kitchen, “He’s a fuckin’ creep, eh?”

Okay, not just you. You know it’s bad when another man notices it. “Yep.”

Whatever. Use it to your advantage, in this case, if possible. Not like you have anything to worry about, just about everyone in the kitchen would jump him for you, upon request.

Would Carmen?

It’s a weird thought to have, but it’s a thought you can’t seem to stop yourself from having. Would Carmen choose your safety and comfort, over the chance to get a chance to get a star? …He would, right? He’d choose you, right?

“M’sorry for derailin’ dinner with our bullshit, Chip.”

The door swings open, Richie lets you in first. “You kidding? No where I’d rather be, than in your bullshit.”

Maybe this is better, than any apology you were planning to give. Better that you show with your actions, that you’re both actually back. That it’s you two, again. That you’re not going anywhere, this time. That even if you did leave, Richie’s gotta know, with a certainty, you’d rather be here.

Richie smiles, and you think you’re right. While he’s shouting out Booth Twelve’s orders, Carmen hands a plate to expo. You tilt your head, curious. He slides a folded-up card, with it. You don’t recognize the plate at all from the menu.

“S’yours.” Is his simple answer, already getting to work on Booth Twelve. He’s scribbling down notes and quick sketches of what surprise dish to make for the Exec. On the front of the card, it says ‘won’t have time to do it myself’, alongside a smiley face, for levity.

You open the card, flitting vision between the dish, the note, and Carmen. Digesting the recipe he’s written for you and your eyes, only. He knew he wouldn’t have time to explain it verbally, so he wrote it down for you. You could throw up, honestly.

This is, the sweetest, most thoughtful, most complex thing, anyone has ever made for you.

You have done your damndest, to almost never be the one to instigate a kiss, not a real one, with Carmen, because he asked for distance, so you try to give it. But right now, more than anything, you’d like to assail this man to the floor right now with your affections.

But you can’t. Because he’s busy, and he needs this, not you. Carmen needs this to go well. He needs this guy to like the food, he needs the inspector to like the food, he needs a star. Fuck, even without the prospect of an inspector looming over him— He needs to prove the man in his head wrong. There is no time for any of the love you have to give.

…Did you just think love?

Gotta table this, for now…

“Thank you, Carmy.” His movements relax, when you say it. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t pivot to you and confess some long-standing prose of love, but he nods, and his shoulders untense. That’s practically the same thing.

His phone, laying on the expo podium, rings. Sug. You furrow your brows. “Carmen.”

“Hm?” He’s tense, and still not himself, but he sounds so sweet, when he hums.

“Nat’s calling.”

“Let it go to voicemail.”

“She’d know you’re working, right now.”

“She’s got mom brain.”

“Mom brains’ aren’t dumb.” You frown, a touch worried. Always doting, aren’t you. “Could be an emergency.”

Carmen wants to say it’s not a big deal. That there’s bigger fish to fry. That if he fucks this dinner up, it could mean Nat won’t have a job to come back to. That with all the love in the world, he does not have time for this, right now. And then he thinks of his brother, and suddenly he has time for this, right now. He picks up his notepad and pen, he can work anywhere, it doesn’t need to be at his station. “Give me.”

He takes the phone, shouting to his crew, “Taking two minutes, Chefs!”

There’s a half-second of complaints before a resounding, “Heard!”

Carmy points to you, as he walks to his office, “Eat.”

“I will.” You nod, and lie.

You won’t be eating the most perfect, most complex, most personal, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever made for you.

You already made your decision, when you saw the plate. When you read the note. When you saw the frantic scribbles at Carmen’s station, loose pieces of paper everywhere, all crumpled. He can’t come up with shit for the man in his head. You already made your decision, when the four other plates showed up on expo for his table, and all that’s left is the surprise dish, for The Man.

You will not be eating the most perfect, most complex, most personal, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever made for you. The man out front, the man in Carmen’s head, will.

Carmen needs this.

Your heart just short of breaks, when you put it on the serving tray, handing it off to Richie. “What’s this one?” He asks, not knowing, not having paid attention. He would’ve refused, if he did.

Syd was, though. She looks like a puppy watching another puppy get kicked. You swallow the feeling down, ignoring her stare. You don’t need to reread the card, it’ll stick in your head, for the rest of your life.

“Lamb saddle, roasted, pink. Aigre-doux eggplant, means sour sweet sauce, with lamb confit, fresh spring garlic, Montmorency sauce— It’s a dark red cherry sauce, topped with cherries and baby basil.”

You wouldn’t know any of the French terms, if they weren’t defined for you in the margins. There’s a parenthetical, next to the lamb— Mentioning that it’s roasted, explaining why saddle is a superior cut of lamb, noting why it’s best served pink— Mentioning that it’s similar to pork. Your favourite. There’re exclamation points next to the cherry additions, because it’s your favourite Italian ice flavour. They need to be emphasized, in the recipe. There’s another parenthetical, next to baby basil, ‘(yours)’. It’s your basil, from your balcony to his, now to his kitchen, now to your plate.

In spades, this is the best gift anyone has ever made you, and you watch it leave, through the swinging door. You can’t stop your expression from twitching, falling into a frown. Your heart sits heavy in your throat. When Syd silently stands next to you, taking over for Richie on expo, she returns your tiny container of Tums. You take one, eyes distant, looking at the kitchen, Carmen’s kitchen, biting down on the antacid.

Cherry.

This isn’t sad. It’s just a plate. It’s literally just a plate. Carmen can make it again. Carmen can make it a million times over again. So why does it sting like this? Why does it carve its way into the pit of your stomach? That was yours. Carmen— Carmen’s plate was yours, and you had to give it up. You want nothing more than to rip the dish from the stupid fucking Exec’s greedy fucking hands, take it for yourself, eat it whole, in one bite— Decree that he can’t fuck with Carmen anymore, that he holds no ownership anymore, that he is not the be all end all, that he is not the gavel and the sound block.

But he is. It hurts, because he is. Carmen is still under him, and so, you, being by his side, are under him too. You know you made the right call, giving the plate up, but the meaning behind it all hurts insurmountably.

Syd takes your hand; the wrinkles of her band-aids are a nice texture to return to. You appreciate that she’s comforting you, but you can’t help but notice, “Uh, uhm, let’s fire table twenty-five, twenty-eight, and— And fuck, twelve, Chefs.” She’s not great at the whole expo thing. She’s fast as a cook, she’s slow as a speaker.

You take a look over the book on the table, and bump her aside with your hip.

“Chefs, I’m gonna need ‘ya to fire six fish all day— ‘kay?”

“Heard, Chef?” The crowd is confused but they’re not gonna stop you.

“Good, good.” You note the dead plate by you, “This asparagus is fuckin’ dead can I get hands on flashing it, please, Chefs?”

“Yes, Chef!”

Syd eyes you, on the sidelines, perplexed. You shrug, “You and Carmen are not the first people that tried to get this fuckin’ kitchen in order, check yourself.”

You didn’t do all the French bullshit, but some days at The Beef definitely ran better when they had a former Lead EMT barking at them— With love, though. Always with love. Syd just laughs, shaking her head. It’s a delight, to always be learning new things about you. How overarching your handful of talents are. You really are a Jack of All Trades.

You run things a little differently than a typical actual expo would. But sometimes, that’s kind of a good thing.

“Baby, where are we at with table twenty?!”

“T,” You say names, instead of Chef, more often than not, “If you yell at me like that, I will, what—?” Your call and responses, are a bit different. “Start crying, yes, thank you, Chef. Table twenty’s plated, we’re just waiting on placement from Syd, take your time but not too much, babe.”

“Heard!”

Levity, temperature, ease. It’s what you bring to the table, in everything you do. And sometimes, yeah, that’s not what you need. But right now, that’s everything this kitchen needs.

When Richie eventually comes back, handling front of house almost entirely by himself, he’s relieved to see you on expo, and the kitchen functioning, but he seems a little thrown. Off his rhythm.

You put a hand on his shoulder, as he stands next to you. “You good, Cousin?”

He sighs, he’s not good. “M’good, Chip.”

“Can I get an all-day on pasta, Chef?” Marcus’ voice doesn’t really occur to you, in the background, right now. You’re all about Richie.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothin…” He kisses his teeth, “S’just, man’s a real piece of work— N’ I can’t— Can’t give it back to him.”

“What’d he say?”

“Just, just kinda… Made fun ‘a—” Richie pauses, clearing his throat. “He made fun of my voice. To his fuckin’ friends. Called me unprofessional, said the suit’s prol— Probably a knock-off— Which, it is, but—”

“Chef, pasta?”

“One second, Marcus!” You call out, quick, not taking your eyes off Richie. You hate to hear him attempting to switch, all the syllables fit uncomfortably in his mouth. You frown. “He’s an asshole. Don’t listen to ‘em. You should bite back a little, I think.”

Richie hums, arms crossing, guarding himself. He sighs, finally voicing the worry. Son of a bitch, this guy’s in Richie’s head now, too. “…D’you take me serious, Cousin?”

You soften, while simultaneously growing so angry, at how quickly Richie’s become demoralized, “Richie— Cousin, of course I take you seriously.”

The moment is cut short, however, by a reasonably frustrated Marcus, at his limit. “Tony, all-day pasta, shit, c’mon!”

About a minute or two earlier, Carmen went into his office to take a call. He’s still jotting down notes, trying to come up with a recipe, not knowing the effort is meaningless now.

“Everything alright, Sug?”

“Hm? Yeah, everything’s good, I just wanted to call ‘stead of text ‘cause my hands are full of baby.” He told you so, not an emergency. “You guys busy?”

“Yeah, actually, s’maybe I’ll call you back, after?”

“Sure, sure, yeah, I just wanted to let you know I didn’t get Tony’s invoice.”

He pauses, no longer writing. “What’d’you mean you didn’t get her invoice?”

“She said you took care of it.”

“She told me you took care of it.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, as Natalie thinks, trying to recount. “Well, maybe I’ve just got mom brain, but I swear she told me you covered it, thought I wrote it down…”

“Yeah, you did.” Carmen flits through the folder he was looking at yesterday, finding her sticky note. “You wrote down to ask me for her invoice.”

“Yeah, so I could get a copy for our records. Maybe I just got mixed up and left it somewhere— Just double check before you ask her for it again, I like her, Carmy, I don’t want her to think we’re unprofessional.”

“We are unprofessional.” And you like them anyways. He pops open the desk drawer, flitting through folders, most of them labeled ‘stuff’ ‘shit’ ‘bullshit’ ‘bullshit stuff’. Carmen loves his brother but sometimes he curses the fucking sky. There’s every chance Sug slipped your invoice into one of these by mistake.

“Yeah, but I don’t want her to know that.” Carmen can hear little baby Michaela murmuring on the other end of the phone. “Tell her to come see the baby, by the way.”

“I will. I’m plannin’ on it.” After dinner. Maybe when he opens up your painting and he forces you to tell him ad nauseum what you thought of the cherry and lamb dish. Your dish. That shit is never getting put on the menu, no. It’s a lot easier to think of plates when they’re for you, it’s fucking impossible to come up with a dish for his old Head Chef— He really needs to get back out there, actually, he’s out of thinking time, he just has to throw shit at the wall.

But then he sees a folder he’d never paid attention to, before. ‘ICE Chip’s’. Another one of Mikey’s extremely confusingly titles. Carmen always figured it’d been a weird way of naming a folder meant for bulk orders of ice for drinks or for the walk in— But now, Carmen knows better, Carmen knows you. No harm in looking, right? He’ll take a quick peak, see it’s actually for ice, and then he’ll go back out there, rip his hair out, and put it on a plate for the fucking man out front that talked to him during his entire morning routine, today.

Except there’s not invoices for ice, in this folder.

“I’ve been reading her Frog and Toad, almost every night, by the way, Mickey loves it.”

No, it’s you, in this folder. Carmen wants to throw up. He’s being dramatic, he needs to relax, the blood in his veins is freezing and boiling at the same time.

And maybe if Carmen's day had started off a bit better, if he was acting like himself today, and not the man in his head, in his restaurant— Maybe he'd be a little more reasonable, right now. Maybe if he ate family earlier, instead of skipping it to re-tape all the containers in the walk-in, he'd feel a little more forgiving. If he wasn't so tired, if he wasn't so hungry, if he wasn't shaking off a minute cold he got from walking to your house past midnight, a few days ago, he'd be a bit less inclined to spiral.

But there’s a handful of film photos with the two of you— Just the two of you— Richie’s in one or two, but it’s mostly just you and Michael. His arm, over your shoulder, in again, most of them. Mikey looks non-plussed in half of them. You’re always holding some sort of cupcake or cake, in all of them, and there’s always a numbered candle, being blown out. There’re a couple different times there’s a One candle, a few Twos, only one Three.

You knew Mikey for two to three years, didn’t you? Anniversary photos?

Carmen is going to fucking throw up. Why are there multiple ones? One week-iversary? One month-iversary? He has never imagined his brother to be some fucking sap sentimentalist, and it’s making his skin crawl. You dated his fucking brother? He is just a fucking gap filler, he is.

There has got to be another reasonable explanation, for this. You wouldn’t do this to him— Someone would’ve said something to him— Richie would’ve at the very least made some sort of stupid fucking derogatory comment about him getting sloppy seconds— There is no fucking way you dated his fucking brother—

‘I’m with you Bear!!’

‘Just one more, Mikey’

‘love you’

Sticky notes. Your handwriting. There are sticky notes with your handwriting in this forsaken fucking folder. Telling Mikey you love him, and to keep going— You called him Bear. That makes sense, everyone calls all three of the kids Bear— But that was— You— He needs to throw up. It cannot stay in his throat; he cannot let this stay in his throat— ‘We go under together’ �� And yet he cannot stop reading them. ‘Same team.’

Same team. You’re on the same team. With his brother. Isn’t that fucking sweet. Isn’t that just adorable. Isn’t the fucking photo booth strip of you two, clearly taken after seeing a movie, fucking precious?

The last thing in this folder is the nail in the coffin, the knife in the hand. Paperwork. Not an invoice, no. Not the fucking thing he was looking for. No. An old agreement form.

A joint bank account. Wells Fargo. Signed by both of you. Photo IDs photocopied, side by side on a black and white piece of paper, stapled onto the end. This feels more intimate than any piece of paperwork that has ever existed. Even a fucking marriage certificate can’t hold a candle to this. You had a joint bank account with a fucking two-bit junkie—

You fucking trusted him with your credit score— You loved Mikey enough to ruin your life— You wanted to go under together. That’s what you fucking wrote, isn’t it?

Every fear Carmen ever had is more than affirmed. He is here to fill a void, he’s here because his brother isn’t. He is nothing but a series of stories his brother has told you, to you. Nothing but another Berzatto man that you desperately try to rehabilitate and fix and inevitably fail with, because they’re all fucking hopeless, before moving onto the next.

He doesn’t even need to kill himself, this time, no— You’ll realize he’s a lost fucking cause when you realize he’s nothing like his brother, when you find out he’s sharp and rendered, that even if he was a good person, he’s still him, and that’s a rot that not even you can fix— You’ll leave him unfinished like all the projects in the corners of your apartment. Because that’s what he is, to you, a project, something to fix. He’s like all your other jobs. He’s a job. Just another distressed restauranteur. Nothing but a fucking replaceable part, that you’ve got ten more spares for in your car.

Carmen doesn’t need to be fixed— He’s perfectly fine the way he is— He was fucking great before you showed up, actually— No, he wasn’t happy, but he was talented, and he wasn’t so brain-dead that he’d fuck up a basic meal thinking of you, he wasn’t so stupid that he’d speak out of turn and call you pretty, he wouldn’t have gotten a cold walking to your house in the winter, he would’ve just taken a hot shower until it hurt, without you— Carmen was— is— A Two Michelin Star chef, he’s fucking great without his brother— He runs The Bear without him just fine, he did everything without his fucking brother just fine, it didn’t hurt when Mikey stopped picking up the phone, Carmen doesn’t need his fucking brother, so he certainly doesn’t need you.

“Carmen?” His sister is still on the phone. Waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him to entertain the idea of being a good uncle. He doesn’t need his sister, either. He hangs up without as much as a simple ‘bye’.

He hears Marcus, yelling for an all-day, yelling Tony. Even still Carmen’s expecting Richie’s voice to reply, but instead, it’s yours that reverberates in past the office door.

“Aye, Marcus! We’ve got three alfredo, two cannoli, one gnocchi, okay, sweets? Same team, right?”

“Same team, Chef.”

Oh, so it’s a fucking Beef thing, too? That’s so fucking cute. It’s so cute, how you’re everywhere, in everything. It’s so goddamn tender how he finds you carved into tables, finds you in filing cabinets, finds you under his booths, finds you in his walk-in, finds you in his shower caddy each morning, finds you on his balcony in a plant pot, finds you in his fridge in a spray bottle, finds you with Syd, finds you with Richie, finds you with Tina, Marcus, Jimmy, Mikey.

So cute. So fucking cute, that he’s gonna see you out there, running his kitchen, fixing everything you deem wrong with him.

Carmen Berzatto doesn't need anyone to ruin his own life except for him. He'll prove it.

i know i know i know i know--

I said it wouldn't be that much of a cliffhanger but when i got through writing the last fourth of this chapter i was having a lot of trouble because pace wise it just really really needed to be a separate part-- and this way, i get to do a fun format style change that i planned but thought i wouldn't get to do TURNS OUT I DO GET TO!! yeehaw

so much happened this chapter, like while writing it, when i'd go back to edit, i was like oh my god that was this chapter?? jesus christ. I was really waiting for y'alls reaction to this one, so please do harang me wherever you feel comfortable ranting to, i love to see it.

But yeah, really fuckin brutal, eh? And a lot of half lore dumps! You think they dated? You think it's something else? The RichiexTony and SydxTony crowds are eating fucking good tonight, also. Love those cuties and their friendships.

We've got a taglist now, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

Next Part

[nathank77]

4/9/24

7:18 p.m

I passed out around maybe 8 a.m potentially earlier. On the half MG without anything else.

I probably woke up about 4-6 times but I kept my eyes closed and I heard weird hallucinations like screaming or laughing-thats how I know I am about to fall back to sleep........ it's all the same volume but I can still make out what I hear. A scream is still the same volume as a whisper.. but yea I kept my eyes closed despite needing to pee cause I knew I was done for bc of those extra hallucinations.... I don't hear those during the day.

I woke up at 4:45 p.m..... my HSV2 inhibitor test and gonorrhea/chlamydia urine test was today at 4:40 p.m..... I ran out the door... drove to Quest, it's close... thankfully I had an extra pair of glasses in my backpack... I didnt have time to grab my glasses out of my case on my desk before I ran to Quest bc I really wanted to get it done. So this is one of those time where the whole having spare pairs of glasses is really helpful.. they saved my ability to be able to see when I was driving.

Luckily Quest did the tests..... I hate circadian rhythm disorder... I didn't want to open my eyes, I usually wake up to my alarm and I didn't this time. Back before I had psychosis I didn't wake up to my alarms but since Xanax I've been waking up to them almost everyday... when I opened my eyes I truly thought it was like 3 p.m... bc my alarm was set to 3:30 p.m.

My hallucination really is, "happy birthday," "I've got a birthday present," "that's the depressing part," and hearing my own thoughts being repeated which is maddening. I'm starting to regret aligning with it bc it makes it hard to say listen to a song/tv while thinking something out like what I got to do to today, etc... even without other types of chatter..

Anyways I await the results. I don't have chlamydia or gonorrhea. I know that hsv2 test was a false positive, yet I'm still worried..

I hit CVS, and then took a shower. I'm home now writing. I have an appt with apple later about my phone number bc it's associated with another account.

I was going to check out some Eyewear places near me but of course with my circadian rhythm disorder, and the time frames its impossible. Maybe I'll start with lens crafters on Saturday and then next week my schedule is less busy and maybe I can make it work.

I'm anxious about oversleeping tomorrow bc of my T-Shot... at 3:45 p.m... I'm so sick of being tied down to this appt every other week. It can't be later than that.... if I could do it myself or have my gf/family/ or anyone reliable do it, I would have significantly less obligations to fulfill every single month. I mean it's a fucking chore. This month alone in total its 3 appts..... it's actually really a huge source of stress. If I could do it myself or have someone else to do it, well I would have had 2 ultrasounds this month, 2 Quest appts, and one dentist appt...

Anyways, maybe I'll game later. Maybe I'll just stare at the TV mindlessly. I got to take a 1MG tonight/tomorrow at like 4:30 a.m so hopefully I can fall asleep earlier and get 7 hours and wake up before 3 p.m.....

I have that stupid dentist appt bc the doctor couldn't see me the day of the cleaning on Friday... I might just cancel and reschedule I need down time. All these optical centers near me close at like fucking 5-6......... it would be cool to be able to swing by a few. They are close together. Maybe I really will reschedule cause like if I go to the dentist, I expect to get my teeth cleaned and see the doctor that same day and only come back if they find a problem...

I still have my ultrasound next Wednesday at 4 p.m on my lower region. I'm worried about that... making the appt. Then them finding something... despite their being no reason for me to think they'll find something.

I just feel like between circadian rhythm disorder, sleep issues, the voice always screaming to get my attention. My constant auditory hallucination forcing me to drown it out and my ocd always being there forcing me to make rules, avoid things, my life is so stressful.

I got my refund back and I can afford glasses. How can I fit going to a few stores locally into my schedule when I'm always going to the doctors and oversleeping...

I have my disability appointment on the 16th at 1:30... idk if I'm just going to reschedule it, maybe I'll take 1 mg and try to make it so the damn thing gets off my fucking to do list and I get my fucking back pay. I'll feel like fucking shit...

Beyond that my arm still hurts from my fall. The x-ray came back clean. I waited until my doctors appt and had her send me in a MRI... it got denied so I sent in the appeal paperwork...

But yea I'm trying hard to stay on the ball, everything is counting against me.

I thought something, what if Elise brings up brendan if I ever run into her. Well if she excessively brings up their plans. I'll assume she's happily married and I will be happy for her but I'll have to cope with that potential of us being together not ever happening.

If she brings up he is with the girls I'll assume nothing. If she says they talked about divorce I'll just listen and say I'm sorry. My jaw might drop a little. That's what I'd do..

Although I don't expect her to show up Saturday. I hope she does.

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Day of Breastfeeding

Thank you to this ask for the request of this one shot prompt

Things to help you read this easier:

(Married for 3 years/Any solo Harry era)

(I pray that this photo doesn't get my account in trouble again. It's an innocent photo with no real nudity shown.)

Today has been a busy day with you and your four month old daughter. She woke you up at the early hour of 5:00 am and you've been up ever since.

When she woke up at five, you crawled out of the warm bed you and Harry were sleeping in to go into her nursery. Her reason for awakening was hunger. Instead of feeding her in the nursery like you do most mornings, you carried her back into yours and Harrys bedroom so you could feed her in the comfort of your bed. You climbed back in bed with a hungry baby and laid her on your newly exposed chest. She latched instantly and you may or may not have dozed back off again due to exhaustion.

At 5:30 am Harrys alarm goes off, letting him know he needs to wake up to go to the studio for a few hours and record new music. He reached for his phone, shutting the alarm off, and turned around to glance at his beautiful wife. Beautiful wife who some how stayed asleep through the sounds of his alarm. What he wasn't expecting to see was his equally beautiful baby girl laying on top of your naked chest with your nipple exposed to the cold air of the room. Presumably due to your daughter having finished eating and your nipple falling out of her relaxed mouth. Harry sleepily smiled to himself. How did he get so lucky he thinks internally.

Harry knew he needed to get ready to be at the studio but he just couldn't help himself. He got up and quietly walked around the bed to pick up your sleeping daughter from your chest. Your eyes shot open at the loss of contact with her but Harry was quick to whisper, "Shhh my love. I'm just going to take her to her nursery and let you get some comfortable sleep. Then I'm leaving for the studio. If you need me, call me. I'll come right home. Love you." He bent down to place a kiss your lips and you give him a thankful smile. Right before he let the room, he covered your exposed chest with the blanket so you don't get cold.

Harry decided to burp your daughter on the walk to her nursery knowing she hadn't burped yet. She let out a soft little burp from her tiny mouth on her daddy's shoulder and Harry kissed her soft head in appreciation. He noticed her diaper was dirtied, so being the father he is, Harry changed her poopy diaper and cradled her back to sleep. He placed her back in her crib and gave her one more good bye kiss on his way out. Then Harry got dressed and left for the studio.

Your daughter let you sleep until 7:00 am when she got hungry again. You got up to feed her and decided to just stay awake and start your day. After you fed your daughter and changed her soiled diaper, you went down the stairs to make you something to eat. While you ate your yogurt and berries, the four month old played in her playpen. Then you put her down for a midmorning nap so you could clean up a bit. Around 11:00 am, you breastfeed her again while you watched a bit of tv. She fell asleep shortly after and you called Harry to let him know you were doing fine and talked about dinner options.

Through-out the rest of your day, you pretty much alternated between breastfeeding your daughter, changing dirty diapers, putting her down for naps, and did house chores: dishes, vacuuming, laundry, and dusting. Around 5:00 pm, you felt super disgusting from all the sweating you did today. The only problem was you were home alone with your daughter and there was no one to watch her while you showered or bathed. Usually you'd wait until Harry came home but the sound of a relaxing bath sounded heavenly to your ears. So the only reasonable fix to your problem was to bring her in the tub with you.

Harry and yourself have allowed her to get in the tub with either of you before. Sometimes Harry will be taking a relaxing bath and you'll kill two birds with one stone and have your daughter get a bath with him. Being only four months old, its still expectable for her to bath with her daddy. Or sometimes while you're taking a bath and Harry is watching her, she starts to scream and cry, needing or wanting you, so Harry has no other choice other than to bring her in the bathroom and allow you to comfort her to your warm, wet body.

Now in current time, you're in the bathtub with your naked daughter laying on your bare chest, just relaxing and cooing gentle words into her ears. It feels super nice to have all this skin to skin contact with her, but you're just praying she doesn't pee or poop in the tub. Maybe you should have kept her diaper on.

At first she was calm and relaxed, just staring off into the distance, but now she is grabbing at your boob wanting to be fed again. You reach down and position your nipple to her mouth and she laches on quickly. Your nipples are painfully sore from all the feedings you give her through-out the day, everyday. Harry has told you that you should start pumping and give your nipples a break but you can't seem to do that. Even though its quite painful each time she sucks, it's one of the best feeling to have a baby feed from you directly. That may not make much since to just anyone but you're sure other mums will understand.

While off in your own little world, you don't hear Harry come in the house. He finished for the day at the studio and came home to be with his loving family. First he questions where you two are. He walked in the kitchen to find it empty. Then he walks up the stairs and to the nursery to find it empty. Lastly he walks into your shared bedroom and it's empty as well. He starts to get worried until he hears a soft voice coming from the bathroom in your bedroom. He carries his sock covered feet to the bathroom door and gently pulls it open to see a pretty sight. You breastfeeding your daughter.

"Now we're feeding in the tub, are we?" Harry softly speaks with a content smile. He startles you at first but then you force yourself to relax so you don't disturb your baby.

"I needed a bath and had no one to watch her. Then she got hungry for the millionth time today. I actually think my nipples are going to fall off." you reply back and though you sound like you are joking, Harry could hear pain in your voice when you talked about your nipples falling off. He hates you're in pain.

"I'm sorry my love." he sincerely speaks while kneeling beside the tub to run a gentle hand over the babies back. He has always been infatuated with watching her feed from you. Not in a inappropriate way because they are the same boobs he loves to see jiggle when having sex but in a way where he's in total awe.

Seconds later your daughter spits out your nipple, so you ask Harry, "Could you maybe burp her and get her dressed for bed please, so I can properly wash myself."

Harry responds immediately with, "Of course darling. Anything for you." He bends forward to peck your lips and stands to grab a towel to wrap her small body in. He returns with a towel dedicated just for babies. It's made with thin, soft material so it won't be too rough on their skin. Then with the towel over his shoulder, he bends down to pick up her wet, naked body and lays her directly on his towel covered shoulder. She whines from the cold air but he shushes her. "Shhh my little love. It's alright." he whispers to her while wrapping the towel around her frame and begins to pat her back so she can burp. Before he steps out of the bathroom, he turns to you and says, "I'll be in her nursery. Yell out if you need me for anything."

"Okay." you comment back. As you began to wash your hair and body, all you can think about is how great of a husband and father Harry is. He never puts up fights when it comes to taking care of his daughter. It doesn't matter if it's 3:00 in the morning or while he's working. He'll always come to her aid or your aid for that matter.

Harry successfully burps her and lays her down on her changing table in the nursery. Before any accidents occur, he puts a clean diaper on her bum and finds some clean pjs to keep her body warm. "Alright. All done sweetheart." he tells his baby with a kiss on the cheek. Harry carries her with him to the kitchen, her face burred in his neck. She's awake but the warm bath and feeding did make her sleepy.

In the kitchen, Harry tries to decide what is best for dinner. He decides on a veggie pizza to pop in the oven, knowing you should agree with that choice. Right as the pizza goes into the pre heated oven, you come walking down the stairs in a loose fitting shirt and pajama shorts. "Feeling better?" Harry questions you with a dimply smile while soothingly rubbing your daughters back.

"Much. Thank you for getting her ready for bed." you tell your husband.

"You don't need to thank me. It's my job as much as it is yours. She 'our' baby." he responds.

You take your daughter from his hold and walk into the living room to feed her one last time before you put her to sleep. Harry takes the cooked pizza out the oven and plates you and him a slice. Then he makes his way to the living room, deciding you both can eat in there tonight so you're more comfortable. You eat and breastfeed at the same time, doing mummy multitasking. When Harry finishes eating, he takes your now sleeping baby girl from your hold and carries her to the nursery. Like every time before he leaves her room, he makes sure to lay a soft kiss on her head. Once all that is done, he comes back to you in the living room.

"Please use the pump for tonight. Your boobs need to rest and also that way I can get up to feed her through-out the night and let you get some proper sleep." Harry says to you as you're cuddle each other on the couch.

"But I'm scared if she uses a bottle that she won't want me again. She may realize the bottle is better than my nipples." you mumble in his neck.

"That's silly. Of course she'll want your breast again. You're her mother. She very much enjoys the bonding time with you when you breastfeed her but she's getting to the age to where she needs to have other options. In a month, she'll be able to try baby food. She'll still need your milk but just introducing solids to her diet." Harry calmly speaks while rubbing over your back in a calmly manner.

After a lot of convincing on Harrys part, you decided to try and pump for the first time. So you both stand from the couch and head to your bedroom. Harry grabs the milk pumper from your closet and you get comfortable on the bed. You take your shirt off and pull the covers to your waist. Then he brings the machine over to you and sets everything up. He helps you attach the pieces to each of your nipples, being very gentle knowing how painful they are. Once they are suctioned properly, he turns the machine on and asks, "Are you alright by yourself if I go take a shower? I promise I won't be long." You nod your head and Harry grabs a pair of clean boxers, than makes his way to the bathroom and began his showering.

When Harry returns from his quick shower, the two bottles that collect your milk are near about full. He helps you remove the suction cups and disconnects the bottles from the pump to place them in the fridge for later tonight. As he returns, he see's you standing in front of the huge mirror in your bathroom, just staring at your boobs. Specifically your nipples. Your nipples even look painful he thinks to himself. He walks up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and caresses your ribcage with his fingers, looking straight ahead at your body in the mirror. "Go lay in bed and I'll put some cream on them." he whispers in your ear.

You follow his instructions and exit the bathroom to get in bed. Harry grabs some cream and returns to you. "I'll be gentle." he says in his tired voice, straddling your lap. He dips his ring less fingers in the soothing cream and bends down. Cradling the sides of your boobs with one hand, he uses his other to rub the nipple itself. His movements are slow and if it was under other circumstances, you swear you would have just gotten turned on by his actions. He looks to be in extreme concentration and you can't help but feel happy. For the second time today, you realize how great Harry is to you and your baby.

Once Harry has covered both your nipples in the cream, he helps you put a bra on that has leaking pads in them, to prevent the ointment from making a mess on the beds covers. Then he goes to wash his hands and comes back to crawl into bed and snuggle with you. "Love you y/n." Harry whispers quietly.

"I love you too babe. And I know you said not to thank you earlier, but thank you. I'm grateful to have you in my life." you blindly reach up to kiss his lips and then shove your face into his neck, smelling the manly scent of his body wash.

Through-out that night, anytime your four mouth old daughter woke up needing a feeding, Harry got up and warmed a bottle from the fridge and sat in the rocker located in the corner of her nursery each time. She would curl up on his tattooed chest, sleepily drink the bottle, and he would rock back and forth, lightly singing to her in a sleep ridden voice. Then he burped her after each feeding and put her back to sleep comfortably in her crib. That night, you got the most uninterrupted sleep you've gotten since before she was born and its all thanks to your wonderful husband and baby daddy, Harry.

MASTERLIST & My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

[raiden-shogun-cult]

CHAPTER 1

Back - Next

Draken’s POV

2005/05/27

As I carried her back home, I couldn't help but to think about our past and how much we've been through together. When we arrived we were greeted by the stench of perfume and smoke as I walked into the living room where there was laughter and people talking over each other and went up the stairs. I opened her room door and tossed her onto her bed, jolting her awake. “DRAKEN!!” she yelled clearly angry at the fact that I woke her up and she tossed a pillow at me which I deflected. “What woman?” I said, annoyed that she threw a pillow at me and with that she giggled.

I sat down on her bed and she scooted closer to me “When will you let me join Toman? I mean Mikey already-” I glared at her and she stopped mid sentence “No, I won't let you join Toman, it's too dangerous. You could get hurt or even worse KILLED,” I said and she flinched when I raised my voice. “But what about you, Draken hmm? You could also get killed and hurt but you are still in Toman. I want to take that risk too! I actually care for the members of Toman and I want to be a part of it. Whether you “let” me,” she air quoted “Or not i'm still joining,” and she got under the covers, her back facing me and I sighed scooting up next to her, putting my fingers in her hair untangling it and playing with it.

She was as beautiful sleeping as she was when she's awake and it mesmerized me, the way she softly breathed, her chest rising up and down lightly. It made my chest twist with envy that she cared so much about Toman, that she’ll risk her life for them but then again I can’t control every aspect of her life no matter how much I wish to and it hurts me but whatever makes her happy. 

//TIMESKIP//

2005/05/28

When I woke up, Y/n wasn't beside me and I panicked. I got up quickly and sighed in relief when the h/c colored hair popped in the door smiling. “Why are you up so early? Come back to bed,” I complained looking at the alarm clock which showed the time as 6:00 AM and they sighed “I'm not sleepy but thanks,” they uttered, walking away and I got up following them down the hall to make sure she didn't hurt herself.

I went into the bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth, thinking about me and Y/n’s plans for today deciding that maybe we should go on a date, shopping and taking her to an arcade since she's been wanting to do that for a while, I thought smiling to myself. I left the bathroom and went into the kitchen where they were eating cereal. There was milk dripping down their chin when they looked up at me and I sat down across from her not bothering to wipe her chin because she was being childish.

 “You know,” they said after they swallowed their cereal, “I'm gonna hang with Mitsuya today, maybe go to the mall with him,” she said, playing with their spoon and my heart dropped. Why would she want to hang out with Mitsuya? “Why?” I asked, looking at her while trying to stay calm. “Well, I haven't spoken with him in a while and I would love to see him again,” she answered, getting up from the table and gently putting the cereal bowl in the sink, turning the water on and washing it. 

I get up, stretching my limbs before I walk over to where she was standing, coming beside her leaning on the counter. “Well I was thinking that maybe we could do something today,” I muttered, pulling her curls back gently, messing up their hair. “But if you insist on leaving me for Mitsuya all by myself, I can't stop  you, can I?” I whispered at this point waiting for the answer I was looking for. “Wait, I'll go with you today okay? Mitsuya can wait until tomorrow, I mean he wasn't expecting me anyways so it's not like he was waiting on me,” their words tumbled out of their mouth quickly as if to not disappoint me and I pulled her into a hug. “Oh really? That's awesome. Now go get dressed, we have a long day ahead of us,” I gently pushed her away towards the door, shooing her out, while opening my phone to check the time to see that it was 8:24 AM.

//FLASHBACK//

“DRAKEN-KUNNN!!!” Y/n yelled, grabbing the 9 year old's attention and he ran towards them thinking she had been injured but instead he found them with a water balloon in hand ready to launch it at him. “WAIT N-” he screamed but he was too late because the water balloon was already launched splashing him in ice cold water. He shivered as the water dripped off of him while they were roaming the streets. They couldn't go back to the building they lived in because they weren't allowed to go back until 9 PM and it was 7:10 which means Draken was gonna stay soaking wet until then. It's been a year but Draken couldn't get over Airashi’s disappearance and neither could the little girl as Airashi was like their mother, a parental figure even though she wasn't actually their mother they cared deeply for her. 

There was no telling when she was coming back and it hurt both of them deeply and left them wondering if she disappeared because of them. Sometimes Y/n would cry at night with Draken comforting her only for one of the women they were living with to tell them to shut up before they were beaten which made them shut up quickly but still she was hiccuping. Airashi impacted both of their lives in a deep way whether they knew it or not.

[arrogantsonofabiscuit]

Adore you

Feat:- Kuroo and You!

Genre:- Fluff and mentions of pet names.

A/n:- Dancing with Kuroo while listening to your favorite song :)

Word count:- 1.4K

A post for @ohajime song fic collaboration 

Funny isn't it? When you plan something out and nothing seems to go accordingly? The excitement, the joy and the hard-work seems to be wasted when something messes it up. Well that's the situation you are in right now!

 Thinking aback, sleeping when the alarm snoozes for the umpteenth time but you seem to still doze off with sleep lingering within you and your body asking you to rest some more. You move to the other corner of your bed where your boyfriend sleeps. You groan when you find out that his spot on the bed is empty and cold. You stir back to your side of the bed and try to pull your plush blanket over your form for some kind of warmth. You tried pulling but something kept it on its spot , slightly opening your eyes you see your boyfriend with his arm  on his chest.

 "Blanket"

 "No."

 "What do you mean NO? I need my blanket!" you whine.

 "No, you can't have your blanket, we have to get ready."

 " Huh?" you replied with a confused face

 "Babe, did you forget what day it is today? We have to go to your brother's wedding?" He gets up from the bed and stretches himself so that the remaining sleep is gone. "Yeah I know , but we can do one thing " you reply with a yawn. "And that is? " he opens the closet to take out his towel. "You go bath and once you are done would you please wake me up?" your reply as you stir back to your previous position. He hums and enters the bathroom.

  The bedroom  was filled with dim light even though it was quite sunny outside along with  slight voice of water and a humming sound could be heard which lulled you in a deep slumber. Kuroo gently twists the door knob and the enters the bedroom with a towel hung loosely  on his body, just giving the glimpse of his perfectly sculpted body.  He then walks towards you ,sleeping on the plush bed with pillows underneath your head, your hair scattered everywhere on your face, your slightly parted lips had urged him to kiss you but he stopped as he remembered that you guys had to attend a wedding!

 He caresses your forehead and brushes your hair off your face, you grab his wrist and kiss his knuckle earning a chuckle from the ravenette and you get up. The blanket was now on top of your head and you spin your head with the blanket. He observes your mini performance and how you tangle yourself more into the mess of the blanket. You groan as you look at the time on the clock placed on the nightstand. You were supposed to be up by 7:00 but now it seems like you woke up an hour late as  it was 8:00 now. You get up from your bed irritatingly and fold your blanket and set your bed in order, Kuroo was observing you from corner of his eyes and had one of the biggest smiles plastered on his face. He could think of only one word and that was "Adorable." (Your mess is adorable 😣☹️)

 You take a towel with you and you tie your hair into a messy bun before stepping into the bathroom. You set your products on the flat surface of the tabletop and get ready to take a quick shower.

 Kuroo goes to the kitchen to look for something to munch on . He decides to make some breakfast as he knows once you get late you don't like to have breakfast and you also forget to carry some snacks with you. He takes out a pan and cracks open an egg and makes sunny side eggs the way you like it. He prepares some toast along with a cup of your favorite coffee. Your coffee preference always confused  him because you were known to be a sweet tooth but you always liked your coffee to be bitter so that it  would wake you up  and help you stay awake during work.

  You step out of your the shower-room and start drying yourself . As soon as you look up at the mirror you see some sticky notes on them. It had small messages written on them like "Before you forget I wanted to let you know that this big boy loves you and he fucking adores you!". "Good morning sweet cheeks ! You have no idea the amount of happiness you brought into my life! <3." You would call it cheesy or what not but those messages did make you giddy and lightheaded.

 You smile looking at them and start getting ready. You apply some of your products and take out the dress you were supposed to wear. You come out of your room and enter the kitchen to have a small snack before leaving, because you knew that you would always get angry at your boyfriend if you weren't fed well. You were flabbergasted when you heard him humming to your favorite song as you enter the kitchen from the long hallway.

 “Your wonder under summer skies

Brown skin and lemon over ice

Would you believe it?

 You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you something

Lately you've been on my mind”

   You clear your throat as you look at  Kuroo's  flustered face and he whipped his head left and right to cover his pink cheeks and ears from your loving gaze. He  was already surprised when you showed up but what escalated was the way you continued to sing the song

 "Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh, honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you"

 You walk towards him as he sets the plate on the dining table with an  enchanting smell of your coffee along with your favorite breakfast and to top that he also kept a small piece of the cake that you had bought a day ago. You were amazed at how much this guy knew you, your habits, your weirdness and what not. You guys look at each other for a brief second and continue to sing the song,

 "Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

 Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh, honey I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

 Like it's the only thing I'll ever do"

 You bow down as you perform this small set with your beloved and then hug him saying "Thank you I could not have done this without you " .After having your breakfast, you guys washed your dishes and finally after completing all the chores ,settled on your respective car seat.

 The sun was high in the sky, the light came seeping through the shades you were wearing . The sky was almost the color of pastel pink , soft for the eye and absolutely lovely. The scenario outside looked mesmerizing almost breathtaking as you reach the venue of the wedding. You met your mother and she was complaining about how late you were , but you couldn't find right reasons to explain her. The only possible reason was that you overslept but the way you got ready, the way you cherished the moments ,the way you twirled around your house dancing to your favorite song with the person you love made your heart fill with upmost love you had for your boyfriend.

 The wedding ceremony concluded and various toasts were made . A soft music played in the background which made you jolt out of your seat and you made your way to the dance floor with your boyfriend. He placed his arms around your waist pulling you closer and you placed your hand on his broad shoulder. You slow danced to the song and at that moment maybe today god was with you (quite rare), the sun had set in the background , the small rays making you look ethereal, the smile you had glowed more and the way your eyes shined made him blush. He looked so handsome as the way the sun kissed his features on his face , his wide smile and even his hazel eyes penetrating through your soul. It felt like he found the one for him , he found his home, his partner in  crime, his paradise. At that moment Kuroo and You came to a conclusion and that was,

 "You have to hold my hand tightly love, because it is a long journey ahead, lets dance till the end with your hand in my hand. Let's love till the end."  

[1234-angelika]

Sugar Rush

an:Hey y'all! I'm really excited for this week, lot's of good content coming out. This is the second installment of the Happily Ever After series for David. As always, enjoy!

words:1.1k

warnings:none. If you see any please message me and I'll add it.

summary:"Baking and love go hand in hand, for as one bakes a tasty treat and fills the room with its sweet aroma, the true joy is to take what has been made and share it with another." -Heather Wolf

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

In the 5 months since the book signing, you and David had been texting back and forth. You were just slightly confused by the mixed signals you were getting from him. Or maybe, you were just misinterpreting them.

The shrill screech of your alarm brought you out of your peaceful sleep. It was so early, the sun hadn’t even come up. You began getting ready for the day, comfy clothes for your busy day ahead. Today was recipe testing day. You started with a cup of coffee and a brainstorming session on what you were going to make. An hour later, you started on the baking. Time quickly passed you by, and your dining room and some of the kitchen counters were covered in a countless variety of baked goods—all recipes for the upcoming book. By noon, you were covered in flour, and the kitchen was a disaster. You walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch, only meaning to take a break.

When you woke up again, the sun was setting, and there was some incessant knocking on your front door. You groaned and pushed yourself into a seated position, waiting for the blood rush to pass before you lifted your body off the couch and went to answer the door. With a huff, you swung the front door open, only to be greeted by the root of your confusion in person. The smile that previously occupied David’s face quickly morphed into something akin to a smirk, making amusement the only emotion you could read on his face.

“Bella! What happened to you? Did the flour attack you?”

A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, and with a shrug and a yawn, you answered, “Nope. Just testing new desserts for my next book.”

You moved out of the doorway and motioned for him to enter, no longer wanting to be in the cold. He stepped into your home with a smile. As he stepped in, you didn’t think to ask what had prompted his impromptu visit to your home; instead, an idea popped into your head.

“Do you want to come in and try them for me? Please? I need another opinion, at this point, they all taste the same to me.”

“Why not,” he answered.

You locked the door and led him to the kitchen through the winding corridors. As the pair of you stepped into the kitchen, a chuckle came from him.

“What?” You questioned.

“It looks like your baking supplies fought with you, and won!” He answered, still chuckling—a friendly grin on his face.

With a huff, you began to clean the kitchen, fully expecting him to sit down and taste some of your newest creations. Instead, when you turned to the sink, you found him putting on gloves and preparing to help you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious. You had had guests over before, and none of them ever offered to help you clean up.

“I’m going to help you. It’ll be done faster and then we can both enjoy your baking and chat.” He answered, smiling and then he gestured for the two of you to get started.

You began to clean like you were on fast-forward, energized by your accidental nap. Instead of the usual four hours, it took you to clean up after recipe testing, with David’s help, it only took an hour and a half. When all the cleaning was done, you made your way to the dining room, coffees in hand. As you both tested the pastries, light chatter filled the air, complementing the crunching and chewing. You were catching each other up on the day-to-day in your lives. When David finished his second coffee, he checked his watch and choked on the air.

“It’s already 2:30 in the morning!” He announced. You were shocked at how time had gotten away from the both of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry David, I know you have to go into the office tomorrow.” You said apologetically, hoping he wasn’t harbouring any ill-will toward you.

“Don’t worry about, I’ll just head out now.”

“No way! I’m not letting you drive when you’re this tired” As you said this, he let out a massive yawn, and a sheepish look made its way onto his face, “I have a guest room, you can stay in there.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on your space….”

“I’m sure. It’s better not to risk it.”

“Okay. I’m just going to get my go-bag from my car.”

He walked out the front door, and you waited downstairs for him. When he came back in, you locked the door and then asked him to stay in the living room so you could get the room ready for him. Hurriedly, you walked up the stairs and made it into the room. You fluffed the duvet and plumped the pillows. You grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and placed it on the chair in the room. Grabbing some towels, in case he decided on a shower, you put them into the bathroom. You grabbed him from downstairs and lead him to the guest room, telling him where everything was. After dropping him outside the room, you continued down the hall to your own space when you heard your name. Turning around, you saw David in the doorway of the guest room.

“Yeah?”

“Since I’m spending the night at your place, I think I should at least take you to dinner.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“I was hoping you were free on Friday.”

“Hmm… I’ll have to check my schedule,” you pulled out your phone and put the date into the calendar, and with a smile, you said, “Look at that! Looks like I’m free.”

“Okay, I’ll text you the information.”

“Good night David.” You said with a goofy grin, the high of being asked out by him rushing to your brain.

“Buona notte Y/N.” He responded before going back into the room and gently shutting the door behind him.

As you got ready for bed, you heard the tap for the shower creak on in the next room over. You continued with your usual nightly routine, making sure the doors and windows were locked, thermostat down and lights off before you got comfortable in your bed. An hour of Netflix later, you were ready to sleep. That night, you went to bed with a smile on your face, not for the usual reason; no, this was because of the man in your guest room. David Rossi.

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

[leejongsuksnostrils]

obsidian.

3./little black dress.

words - 1160

warnings - language

Hyunjin went practically everywhere with me all last week. I seen Yeonjun in the background here and there. It was fucking creepy but he didn't do anything. I'd see him walking, a few steps ahead or behind. Ordering ice cream. He'd flash me a closed lip smile and somehow I'd melt inside. Hyunjin was completely oblivious. Especially since I never described to him what Yeonjun looked like.

This week however, I'm all by myself. I told Hyunjin over the weekend I should be fine from here on out. He was still apprehensive about it but I reassured him that it's ok. Although, it's been about two days and Yeonjun is nowhere to be found. It made me a little sad. Like, I found his looming presence comforting?  Every corner I'd turn, every few minutes I'd look over my shoulder, lowkey hoping to see him. But he wasn't there.

That Saturday Afternoon -

I'm laying in bed. Exhausted. School has been kicking my ass. It's just been nonstop and I'm in desperate need of a break. Suddenly, my phone goes off. My friend wanted to video chat.

"Hiiiiiiiii~" I say, throwing up a lazy peace sign in front of my face. I seen it was actually my two best friends. Celeste and Rosie. The same two best friends that were there with me during the mall incident.

"Let's go out tonight!"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah! Why not!"

"Uhhh, where and what time?"

"**** and we can meet at maybe around...10?"

I thought about it. I wanted to be a little lazy today but going out may be just what I need to get my mind off the stress from school.

"Okieee, I'll meet you guys there! Byeeeeee"

"Byeee"

I sighed. I checked the time on my phone. It was 3:33. I figured I had time to sneak in a quick nap before I had to get ready. The club my friends wanna go to is in the heart of Seoul so it's gonna take me a while to get there so I'll need to leave early.

-

I had set an alarm prior to falling asleep. It woke me at 6:30. "Ok so, I may have time to take a bath actually....take about an hour or so to get ready...leave at...oh that's perfect." I mumbled to myself as I got outta the bed and peeked into my closet. I haven't been clubbing since summer so hopefully I still fit into my lil outfits. I sighed and walked to the main bathroom downstairs to draw my bath. "Taking a bath I see. You haven't done that in forever." My Father called out from the kitchen. I walked over to him and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, Celeste and Rosie called me earlier and they wanna go out tonight." "Oh, that'll be good for you." "Yeah, I just took a nap and I figured I had time to just get ready peacefully before I go out and be overstimulated." He chuckled. "Well, I hope you have fun." He brought a bowl to his lips before sipping some broth. I smiled at him and walked back up to my room.

I stared at my closet again. "Lots of black. Tons and tons of black." I sighed a deep sigh. I picked out a little black dress. Simple. Sleeveless, straight neckline and stopped right under my lil bum. I chose some black strappy sandals to go with. Even though it was Fall time, it wasn't super cold yet so I figured I could manage for one night. "Crystal! Your bath water is ready!" My Father called out to me. "Shit, I forgot." I ran downstairs, said "thanks" to my Dad and got in the bath. It was so relaxing I could've fell asleep all over again. But I forced myself to stay awake.

-

I was in the bath for a little too long but thankfully I didn't get pruny. I wrapped a towel around myself and hurriedly ran upstairs to my room. I put on my dress, thank god it still fit, and then walked into my bathroom. I really wish I had a bath tub in my bathroom instead of a shower but I should be thankful if anything because my Father gave me the master bedroom. The master bathroom is also the nicest room in the house I feel.

I started doing my makeup. I usually don't wear anything other than a tinted moisturizer but since I'm going out I should prolly put in more effort. I decided to do a smokey black eyeliner look with a dash of red glitter in the inner corner of my eyes. I put on a matte, cherry red lipstick and finished by applying a subtle highlighter to highest points of my face. I never do much with my hair other than brush it in the mornings. So I figured maybe I could just spice it up a little by parting my hair to the side and curling the front. I brushed the curl out so it looked like a natural bend in my hair. Perfect. I applied my favourite perfume, Gucci's Bloom Acqua Di Fiori and walked out of my bathroom. I checked my phone and it was a few minutes to 9. I sat down on the edge of my bed and carefully put on my sandals. I checked how I looked in my over the door mirror, good, and walked downstairs. I seen my Father fell asleep on the couch and I just chuckled to myself and shook my head. I stepped outside and it wasn't the coldest but it wasn't the warmest either. It was fine except every now and then there was a cool breeze. Maybe if I wasn't half naked I'd be ok.

It wasn't until I sat down on the bus did I remember that there's a crazy guy on the loose. I texted Hyunjin to let him know that I was going out tonight and that he'd be the first to know if anything weird was going down.

-

I finally reached my stop. I quickly checked my phone before getting off the bus and it was a few minutes to 10. I slipped my phone into the secret pocket in the top of my dress and hurriedly walked to the club. I approached my friends who looked me up and down. "What?" "Uhh, Crystal? You look good." Rosie giggled and I swear I seen her blush. "Is your boyfriend coming?" "Huh?" "Your boyfriend. What's his name...oh! Yeonjun?" "Ohh...He's n-" I was cut off my the front door guy wanting to check out ID's. We stepped into the club and I was in awe. This was our first time going to this one and it was just so cool The decor, the vibe, the music. Everything about it was just awesome. We stood by the entrance and as I was scanning the room my eyes focused on him.

[n3onstarss]

Flipping Switches; CH 2 Pt 1

I awoke before my alarm, quite a surprise! I lunged out of bed and gathered up my uniform and some underwear, intent on taking a shower before work. After all, i wanted to be presentable for my newest co-worker. I'd made a fool of myself yesterday in front of Moon, and i was going to try to right that today.

y'know, except for the part where we're bringing board games into work to play with him instead of working today-

hey, at least I was getting payed to dick around!

A loud and shrill beeping echoed through my small apartment. oh yeah, the alarm! i ran back and shut it off.. by unplugging the clock. hey, it's faster then trying to find the mother fucking button. I'll reset it later it's fine.

I snagged my phone off he charger as i walked past it on my way to the shower. I opened Spotify, kicked the door closed behind me, and turned on a playlist. The apartment to my left, sharing a wall with my bathroom, kept taping notes to me door last month. they just asked if i could keep the music turned down, but that they didn't mind what i played at all. I'll admit, weird notes to get, but i made sure to keep the music quiet enough.

I rushed through my shower, brushed my teeth and got dressed in record time for me, 15 minutes maybe? I snatched my keys, helmet, wallet, headphones and jacket before i left my apartment, locking the door behind me. I bolted towards and down the main stairs instead of my usual side stairs, occasionally having to awkwardly dodge some random persons kid or a tired adult on their way back from a night shift. I rounded the corner of a landing and almost slammed into Jerry, the building manager.

"Hi Jerry, Bye Jerry haveagoodday!" i blurted, dodging around him too and sprinting down the stairs. I jumped the last three steps to the first floor and began to speed walk rather then run. I made it to the lobby, snagged a banana nut muffin out of the basket, and walked out the front door.

The crisp morning air woke me up pretty quick as i walked around the building towards my bike. On my way through the alley between our apartment building i realized i forgot my duffel bag of board games. That's fine, i only had like 2 anyways, i have time to swing by a store. plus, the games i had were 4 player and there are only two of us.

There's a target on the way to work, i remembered. I was about halfway through the alley when i heard a clatter behind me. Almost immediately I reached into my jacket pocket to grab whatever I had as a makeshift weapon.

A can rolled into the alley from by the dumpster against the wall. I shrugged and began to take a step when a little meow was heard. I turned back and saw two little figures walk into the main allay from under the aforementioned dumpster. One was solid black, the other was white with large black patches.

Both kittens turned their heads towards me and everything froze for a minute. I could just leave them here, they would survive just fine off the scraps and someone else could care for them. But, they didn't seem to have a momma, and it wasn't safe for them out here.

I opted to try and get them somewhere safe, meaning keep them. I crouched down and tried to pspsps them over. the patchy one began to stalk towards me first, followed shortly by the black cat. I offered them both some muffin, trying to gain their trust. The black kitten looked up at me suspiciously while they are, the white and black one ate quickly and began rubbing up on my leg. I took off my jacket and gently laid it down next to me, placing more muffin to try and get them to let me pick them up in my coat.

The patchy one almost immediately settled onto the jacket, gobbling down the muffin. The other kitten just sat down defiantly next to it.

I suddenly had a idea change and scooted the splotched kit off my jacket, putting it on backwards. I slowly scooped up the black kitten, gaining a few shallow scratches on the way up. I sat them gently in my hood l, holding one hand against where they lay to try and keep them calm while i reached back down and picked up the other kit. Once both kits were situated in my hood i continued my walk to my bike. I couldn't get back into the building right now, Jerry was inside and the building has a no-pet policy. plus, i had nothing to keep these babies occupied while i was at work.

So, i suppose they were coming with me today. I put on my helmet and swung one leg over my bike. I double checked all my pockets to make sure I had everything. I patted the spot where the kittens had hunkered down, forming a odd looking lump at the bottom of the hood. I slowly began to take off, opting to stay off the busy roads until I needed to.

We pulled up to the target not long after, it wasn't very crowded in the parking lot. I checked my phone, I had almost exactly a hour before I had to be clocked in, a little bit more. I dismounted my bike, set my helmet in the side-bag that often went unused, and walked inside.

I grabbed a cart quickly, hoping a employee wouldn't stop me and ask about my backwards jacket. I quickly walked directly to the back where the toy isles were. I snagged Monopoly, Uno, and Pie Face. I left the isles and walked towards the food area, gathering a Monster, a bag of MnM's, and whipped cream. Final stop, i went to the pet isle. I snagged some wet cat food, a pet bed and some small toys and treats. Gods i hoped all this would fit in the side bag.

I rushed through the self checkout, having 15 minutes to get to work. I sped walked to my bike, setting the bags down on the seat while i got my helmet out. It was a right fit, but i got all the bags inside and secured. I snapped on my helmet, and held open my hood to check on the kits. They both appeared to be fast asleep, perfect! i wouldn't have to worry about them trying to climb out in the way to work.

I pulled out if the parking lot and drove down the road, i was going 15 above the speed limit honestly. I pulled into the employee parking a good few minutes later and hopped off my bike. I had 3 or so minutes to get clocked in. I snagged all the bags, fuck it, and jogged to the employee door. I scanned my ID, unlocking the door, and clocked in quickly at the station in the little room. perfect timing!

I began the walk to the daycare, hoping that i wouldn't get in trouble for today's odd guests. I'd named the black and white one Smokey, but the all black kitten didn't have a name just yet.

I hadn't realized my zoning out until I was right outside the employee door. I unlocked it and slipped inside.

"pssst, Moon. Moon!" i whisper yelled into the dim darkness, hoping it was audible enough that he could hear me, but quiet enough to not wake the small cats in my hoodie.

"yeeeeeeeees, starlight?" a quiet voice came from just ahead, over by the security desk

"I got some games! but promise you won't be mad please?"

"what would there be to be mad about, little one?" he asked, head tilted.

"wellll. . ." i wordlessly beckoned him over with a wave, holding my hood open. The kittens had begun to wake and we're climbing out of the hood.

Moon's eyes kept glancing from me to the kittens, jaw on the floor. He was. . . stunned. for lack of better terms. He gently grabbed Patches out of the hood, holding the small critter on his open palms, letting them stand on both his hands.

"where. . where did you find them??"

"the alley behind my apartment building. I couldn't see a momma or any other kittens, and they were hungry. I couldn't take em inside cause Jerry was there, so i brought them here for today."

"Jerry?" suddenly Moon's interest was less on the kittens and more on the man I'd mentioned.

"Yeah, Jerry's the building manager. We have a no-pet policy but that doesn't stop a majority or my neighbors. Since he was there i couldn't leave these babies in my apartment, plus they didn't have anything to play with and I'm not too keen on picking up shredded items later"

A giggle left Moon as he returned to gently scratching Patches' head with one finger. The little kitten leaned into the touch, purring quietly.

"I'm going to have to go get a paper plate and a cup for them, can you pretty please watch them?"

"of course, i don't mind at allllll."

I gently handed the little black kitten to Moon reaching into the small group of bags and setting the one with cat supplies away from the rest. I pulled out one of the plastic balls, the kind with holes all around it with a bell in the middle.

Moon plopped onto the floor, sitting cross legged as he left the kittens to wander near him. any time one got too far he'd gently scoot them closer. Once i was sure they'd all be okay, i turned and ducked out the door.

I walked into the nearby food court and towards the nearest stall. A S.T.A.F.F. bot stood behind the counter.

"Hello! may i get just a cup and a paper plate please?"

the bot tilted it's head, likely thinking i was weird for asking for empty items.

"We're just a set short for something, and i was told to fetch more supplies. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience this may cause, mx."

A white lie couldn't hurt, plus it was mostly the truth, just.. reworded! The bot nods and turns, grabbing a plate and a cup off the shelf a good few feet away before returning and handing me them. I quickly grabbed a five dollar bill out of my wallet and slid it to the bot. "keep the change, thank you!"

I slinked back to the daycare, slipping through the door quickly. Moon was still on the floor with the kits, the bag that had held the supplies was ripped by little claws and all the toys were scattered around. Moon was busy playing with Patches and one of those feather-on-a-string sticks while the other black kitten was almost asleep on his knee.

Moon's interest didn't waiver as i sat down in front of him, opening and pouring some of the cat food onto the plate. Patches turned their head, glancing at the food before returning to playing with Moon. The other kitten, I'd ask Moon to name them, stretched and trugged over, digging in almost immediately.

I gently stroked the little creature slowly and gently, eventually getting more bold with the pets. The kitten began to purr, slinking over and falling asleep in my lap. Moon and Patches continued to play.

"do you have naaaaames for themmm?" Moon questions, glancing away from Patches and his game. Patches takes the opportunity to snag the feathers and dragging it down, rolling around and biting the bait.

"Kind of? That one I thought could be called 'Patches', but u don't have a name for this one. do you have any ideas?" i asked, hopeful.

"hmmm... Smokeyyy perhapsss?" He had returned his attention to Patches, just watching as the kitten rolled around with their prize.

"Perfect!" I scritched Smokey's head gently, coaxing a purr out of the sleepy baby, who had begun lightly napping.

With both the kits occupied and nearby, I leaned over and tried to reach the bag of games. It was just beyond my fingertips when Moon's hand appeared and dragged the bag over. I glanced back to where he was, expecting to see him moved. Instead, his arm had simply stretched all the way over, maybe 10 feet, to the bag. I must have looked ridiculous, jaw slack at the sight, because he started to giggle again. a haunting, echoing sound, yet somehow endearing.

[coloredgirlfan-fiction01]

The warm morning sunshine was the first thing you felt as you woke from your sleep. The bright light stung your rested eyes but with a few blinks it was manageable.

Looking over at your bedside table, the digital clock read seven sixteen. You had wanted to set the alarm to wake up earlier, but Michael always complained that the sound it made was annoying and gave him headaches.

So you had to learn to wake up early so Michael could get his beauty sleep, not that he really needed it.

Said blonde was still fast asleep on his back, arms on each side of his head and soft pink lips slightly parted as he took shallow breaths. His long eyelashes fluttering ever so gently on his cheeks as he dreamed, something good you hoped.

He was dressed in the red silk pajama suit you picked out for him last night, the first three buttons of the top undone which exposed the smooth skin of his chest.

He was so beautiful, unlike most men he was soft and loved to be taken cared of. There was nothing anyone could say or do that could make you any less in love with him, and he loved you just as much.

You protected him and never judged him for the way he was like those in his past had. They were so focused on what he was and what he was destined to do, that they never stopped to ask him who he really was outside of his father's dark shadow.

As you watched him sleep a fond smile crept across your lips, you leaned over the blonde and gently kissed the top of his exposed chest.

"Michael, it's time to wake up." You whispered placing another kiss just above the previous one.

You felt him stir and let out a soft groan as you began to kiss his neck.

"Five more minutes." You chuckled at how childish his whine was.

"Come on puppy, it's time to get up." You watched as his eyes fluttered open, ocean eyes seemed to almost glow as the sunlight hit them.

"Morning.." He greeted with a smile. You reached out you brush a few strands away from his face, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the happiness in his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I dreamt about you. We were at the bottom of a clear blue ocean. I was lying on your lap, you were humming a song and running your fingers through my hair as I fell asleep. It was beautiful, peaceful."

He always had such strange dreams. Sometimes he had nightmares that were so vivid even you got chills whenever he'd talk about them, but you always loved the ones he got that made him smile in the morning.

"Your too cute for your own good sometimes you know that?" You kissed him and got out of bed to stretch your arms above your head to rid your body of any excess tiredness.

The grey T-shirt you wore to bed lifted as you did, exposing your upper thighs and ass which Michael gawked when he sat up. He couldn't help but think how sexy you looked wearing his shirt and nothing else.

Your skin always had a sort of glow when the sun washed over you. Every curve, your hips, your breasts, your long legs, your natural hair that framed your face made you look like a goddess in his eyes.

He'd never thought that after everything that went went in his life, all the blood and bad choices that he would find redemption and safety in the shape of you.

You were the first person to treat him like an actual human being with feelings and emotions instead of just the antichrist that was destined to destroy the world and remake it in his father's image. That part of him died the moment he gave himself to you.

"Are you going to stare at me all day, or are you gonna' get up and get ready pup?" Blush dusted his cheeks and he averted his eyes to stop from staring. He got out of bed and helped fixed the bedding before joining you in the shower.

After that you guided him downstairs to the kitchen and began to make a healthy breakfast for the both of you, while Michael sat at the counter and watched you.

French toast, eggs, sausages and a pot of freshly made lemongrass tea was on the menu and you took pride in the fact that you only took twenty minutes to make everything.

"So what do you want to do today pup?" You asked serving him his share. Since you didn't have to go into work on Saturdays, you always let Michael choose how you'd spend the day together. You owned your own business and it took up alot of your time, so you dedicated a day just for Michael since he hardly gets to have you for himself.

"I was thinking we could go to the park today, the weather's nice maybe we can have a picnic?"

"That sound like a g-" The loud ringing of your cellphone cut off the conversation and drew you away from the kitchen counter to retrieve your phone from upstairs.

Apparently one of your employees made an error at work and they needed your help to fix it before it caused problems for the software. You inquired about the error and thanked the heavens it wasn't something that you needed to leave home for.

"Michael I'm going to be in my office for a few minutes, finish your breakfast and watch some TV until I'm done OK?" You called out and got an 'alright' as his answer.

About an hour has passed and Michael was getting bored of watching TV. They were showing some low budget show about vampires and he was in no mood to sit through it.

What was taking you so long? You had said a few minutes and it's been an entire hour and you haven't left your home office.

He hardly gets to spend any quality quality time with you and now your work was getting in the way of his day. He wasn't happy.

Deciding he's waited enough, Michael clicked off the TV and marched up the stairs to the see what was taking you so long. He decided not to knock and just barged in ready to demand your attention but stopped himself as he saw you typing furiously on your laptop and talking sternly at whoever was on the phone.

"There is absolutely nothing you can give me as an excuse right now, this could completely crash the servers and we can loose Gigabytes of data because of this."

You always looked so fierce when you were pissed off about something. Your usually calm and collected demeanor was replaced by one of dominance and authority that always made his knees weak. Just the sound of you scolding your employee made him hard and made him want your attention even more.

He closed the door behind him and walks over to you, fully determined to get what he wanted despite knowing he wasn't allowed to disturb you during work.

"Y/n are you almost done, you promised that we'd spend time together today." He whined kneeling beside your chair. His big blue eyes looked up at you but you didn't even give his a side glance.

"Today is my day with you they get you every other day, can't you handle this later?" You shot him a serious glare that shut him up but it didn't deter him from his mission. Being ignored was one thing, but you brushing him off for your work on his day was the last straw.

You didn't question him when he crawled on the floor to get under your desk. You didn't even question when he spread your legs apart to make room for himself in the tight space.

What did get your attention was the sharp tug of your panties that made them snap when he tugged them with his finger. The pull was so strong it pulled you along with it.

He could be such a brat when he couldn't get what he wanted. You didn't mind it but your work couldn't wait.

You could tell he was getting impatient as you hardly reacted to his desperate acts for attention. The way his teeth nipped at your inner thighs and the wetness his tongue left in it's wake as he licked your folds with vigor.

You'd be lying if you weren't getting turned on by his efforts.

If there's one thing that Michael excelled at was pleasing you to the best of his abilities.

It took all of your will power not to moan into your phone as his tongue slipped into you, his hands wrapped around your hips to pull your lower half flush against his mouth.

"You do know there will be consequences for this, don't you?" You said into the phone while grabbing a fist full of Michael's hair, making sure that he knew she was talking to him too.

Absolute chills ripped through you as he moaned loudly against your sex. His hot breath against your dripping sex was euphoric and you could help but grind your hips into him to get more.

"Listen to me, today is my day off and I have business at the moment to take care of. I'll deal with you and your mistake tomorrow." You ended the call and threw the phone on the desktop.

You pulled away from Michael and yanked him by his hair to get out of the tight space.

"You can be a real brat sometimes you know that?"

"You were gone for so long, and I-"

"You know the rules about coming in here don't you?"

"I know. I- I'm sorry."

You sighed and gestured to him to get out from under the table and to lay down on the floor. You followed after him and took the position of straddling his hips.

He looked so adorable beneath you, eyes full of anticipation for whatever you were going to do to him at that moment, you almost felt sorry for him.

"How do you think you should be punished puppy?"

Usually you would spank him or put him on time out for disobeying you, but he was right. Today was his day and you broke your promise.

"How about I do something we'll both enjoy, but at the same time you get your punishment. And if you're good we'll get ready to go on that picnic right after, sound fair?" You asked, which he immediately agreed to.

You slowly began to ride on top of Michael, his semi erection perfectly positioned against your sex making the friction delicious between the two of you.

The hairs on your neck stood up as a wave of chills ran across your skin when Michael let out a desperate moan as you felt him grow harder under you. His brilliant blue eyes glazed over in desperation and pleasure that motivated you to move faster.

"Y/n, I.. I want more..~" He panted, gripping your waist and meeting your humping with vigor.

"I know you do puppy, but this is all you're gonna get."

[zawasscarf]

Void - Keigo Takami/Hawks One-shot

Warnings : none/ reader is gender-neutral.

Genre: angst! i got inspired from a tiktok I saw, the link for it is here.

Prespective: second person

Synopsis: Hawk's and you have been broken up after villians revealed his secrets to you, but having no time to drown in sadness, he forces himself to attend a press conference, where he reunites with you...but it doesn't go as well as imagined.

Void. Empty. Still. That's how he would describe the feeling in his heart when he woke up to his empty, cold bed. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, pumping blood into his veins, reminding him that he was alive for another day. That he had to suffer for another day. That he was just existing, barely even alive.

He lazily rolled from one side to another, his eyes gazing up at the alarm clock he had knocked off the counter in a fit of frustration when it started ringing early in the morning. Normally, he wouldn't need an alarm clock, knowing that you'd wake him up by peppering kisses all over his face. Knowing that you'd lay on top of him, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he is fully awake and motivated for the day. But you weren't there. You weren't, so he had to use this stupid, lifeless machine to wake him up. It displayed the hour. 12:30. He had to go. He was already late for the conference he had to be attending. So he got up, and headed to the bathroom, dodging the empty bottles of sake on the ground and the dirty laundry piles that were looking more like mountains. The apartment was never left in such a messy, dirty state before. Carpets stained, laundry gone unwashed for days, bed un-tidy, used plates in the sink, piling on top of one another. Hawks was for-sure forgetful when it came to his laundry and his chorus, but you would always remind him. And with you it was easy to do his chorus, even if you would be doing most of the work, while he sat there, distracting you rather than helping.

Hastily, he splashed water across his face and brushed his teeth. Then he looked into the mirror, and ran a hand into his hair. He looked miserable. Facial hair untrimmed, overgrown blonde hair on the top of his head, eyes worn-out, wings a dull colour of red. He couldn't remember the last time he looked presentable. He wasn't the only one who noticed this, the press also did. They noticed everything, that's why he didn't want to be seen in public. That's why he has been locked in his skyline complex for days, only going out in complete disguise to buy food or get groceries.

He dragged himself out of the bathroom, and moved to the way-too small pile of clothes thrown on the floor. Getting dressed in his hero outfit, he put his hand on his back to reach for the zipper.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to zip up my bodysuit, baby bird. What does it look like?"

"It looks like a chicken is flailing trying to scratch it's back."

"Well, if you stop being so sassy and help me, I wouldn't be flailing. Come on, I'm going to be late for work."

"Maybe I want you to be late.."

"Oh?"

He found himself staring at his messy bed. Where you would stare up at him, wearing nothing but his shirt, trying to get him back to bed even though you were the one to wake him up. For a moment, he could vividly see you. See both of you. Sitting on the bed as you helped him with his zipper, laughing when he pulled you into his lap to kiss you, to tickle you and shower you with love. He could still feel your tender hands on his tinted cheeks, caressing them oh so softly, telling him that he was the world's most wonderful boyfriend, that you would love him until the stars die, until the sky falls, until the world ends, and maybe even then, you wouldn't stop loving him.

His heart clenched, making it hard to breath. His eyes were on the verge of welling up with tears. "No," He thought, putting on his pants and his matching jacket. He had to go and say something. He couldn't hide like this any longer. Endeavor wasn't good with the press, and as the number two pro hero, as the charming one, he had to make up for it. The one that could handel all the talk, while also being an inspiration to everyone. He had to pull himself together. It's been too long. He had to accept that he isn't going to see you anymore.

Slipping on his black sturdy boots and fixing his hair and eyeliner, he opened the window and flew out, a few of his long red feathers fell, leaving a trace of him on every inch of the city. He looked down. The streets were busy, but peaceful. Buzzing with open shops, with traffic, kids were laughing, it was so tranquil, considering there was a villian attack on this part of town only two days ago. He bit his lip. He wasn't able to help that day. Too drunken and heartbroken to even pick up his cellphone. He felt like such a failure. He failed the pro heros that day. He failed the civilians. He failed you. He failed you, and now he was living in a limbo. A limbo that only you could get him out of, but you wouldn't. And he wouldn't blame you. He deserved this. He was a selfish bastard. He was too secretive. He was. And god, if he could just turn back time..for just one day..

Kids pointed up at the blue sky at the winged hero. They wore shirts with his face on it, one of them was even wearing a costume like his. They were waving, waving and waving, praying that he notices them. Hawks waved back with a slight smile on his sleep-deprived face. Like little chipmunks, they squealed, being noticed by him was a dream of theirs.

"Hey, would you ever want kids?"

"With you?"

"Of course with me. Anyone else you're seeing behind my back that's offering you to have kids?"

"Shut up," You laughed whole-heartedly, and put a hand on his chest, letting him carry you as both of you flew over the glimmering city. "But the answer is yes. I would love to have kids with you. Maybe a baby girl or a baby boy. It'll be our little cozy family."

"Little? I was thinking maybe we could have seven kids. I am ready to give you an entire football team."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant, Keigo."

"The process would be worth it, though."

His smile fell. The memories. The talks you shared when he picked you up and flew you over the city. God, they always meant so much to him. He always tried to linger a little longer in the sky, to share a few more laughs. To share a few more conversations. He lived for moments like that. Moments where it felt like time stopped. Where it was only you and him that existed in this vast universe. Moments where he could hold you close to his chest, breath in your scent and perfume. Fly with you up in the sky. Fluster you. Cuddle you. Hug you. Kiss you.

Forcing himself out of his misery, he landed down on the roof of the building he was suppose to be interviewed infront of. The press were already huddled up at the front door. There were civilians too, waiting for him to appear. He could see Miruko, Snipe, Endeavour and Gang Orca, all ignoring the press asking them about his whereabouts. Miruko had her phone pressed against one of her bunny ears. She was calling him. Hawks swiped left on the call, and took in a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to forget about you for an hour. Forget about how his heart was in shreds, how his rib cage was suffocating his lungs, how his brain felt all jumbled. He fixed his wings, calling all his feathers back to him, and then he flew down to the side of the building.

The camera shutters increased when he emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. Journalists squeezed each other, all spewing out questions for him already. Microphones were shoved at his face, but he deflected them, doing his best to give them his infamous million-dollar worthy smile, trying to pretend that the sadness in his eyes wasn't as visible as the sun on this summer day.

"Where were you?" The booming voice of Endevour cut his tracks. He looked up at the larger, much taller pro hero, and his smile disappeared. "I over-slept." His answer short and dry. That made the line of standing pro-heros all tense up. This wasn't like him. He would usually tease Endeavour. Tell him to take it easy. That the press wouldn't go anywhere even if he appeared three hours later. Not today.

Hawks made his way up the stage, and stood infront of the mic. His playful voice was dull, and he looked far more serious than when he first walked in.

"Alright, folks. I'll be taking all your questions today, but in order. I won't know what to answer if you all throw your questions at me." Hawk's sharp, golden rhinestone eyes scanned the crowd. So many people. So many people wouldn't make him anxious, but he could feel something was off. He felt..watched. Like someone was staring right through his soul. Goosebumps raised on the nape of his neck, but he chose to ignore it. It had to be nothing, everyone was staring at him all the time anyway. "Okay," He pointed at a reporter with dark hair in the very front. "let's start with you. Go ahead—"

"Hawks, if it's not a bother, can you tell us why you did not assist with the fire attacks two days ago?"

He tensed up. Not from the question. From a feeling. He felt something rumble in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was because he didnt have a bite to eat. There was no way he was feeling uncomfortable just because a bunch of reporters were looking at him. Or maybe it was the three glasses sake he had yesterday before heading to bed. "Uh," He paused, trying to think of a quick excuse. "I was..out of town."

Lying. That what he resorted to. No wonder you left him. He lied to you. He lied to you and hid everything about himself from you. He hid everything, and now you were gone.

"Next question." He pointed at another reporter. "Who do you think is the suspect of these attacks, Hawks?"

"The League of Villians." The answer came short and quick. He knew who was behind those attacks. "They may not seem much of a threat as Overhaul or the nomus Endeavour and I fought, but they are a dangerous organisation and I am sure they had something to do with this." Moving to a question to another, he answered almost a hundred questions, all of them filled with lies and excuses. He couldn't go through two questions without lying. What could he do? Tell them that the reason he has been MIA is that he was on his floor every morning, sobbing his heart out on his lost love, that he searched the streets every night for his lover to apologise. To make you come home, to him.

Hawks pointed at a tall man, who had his hand raised at the back. Oddly enough, the man wore a dark hoodie and sunglasses. The hood was up, and he was looking at the ground, as if to hide his identity. He didn't have a camera, a crew, or even a microphone, but his voice was still loud for Hawks to hear his question.

"You haven't been seen with the Pro Hero: Light Monarch for a few weeks now. Nor has they been seen in public. Mind telling us why..." The man looked up. Hawk's face fell, as he saw those fiery, glowing blue eyes staring back at him. His breathing rapidly increased, his chest rose and fell in unrythmic ways. His hands clenched the sides of the microphone stand, until his knuckles turned white. "..wing hero, Hawks?" The mockery in his voice. He was enraging him on purpose. He was mocking him. Mocking him for being unable to protect your relationship. For being unable to protect you.

Other reporters picked up his question and started twisting it into different questions. Ranging from 'Has your relationship fell apart?' to 'Is Light Monarch even a hero?', but all he could focus on was Dabi. Dabi, who was secretly recording all of this. Dabi, who was the main reason your realtionship fell apart. Dabi, who he strived to make suffer for what he did to him. Hawk's eyes were so fixated on Dabi, that when someone nudged him away, he immediately looked over to them.

They were wearing the villain's long coat, along with a hoodie similar to Dabi's. They were nudging him away, trying to make him move out the crowd. Dabi only put an arm around them, pulling them close to his lean body. That's when Hawks caught a glimpse of their face.

And that's when everyone saw the winged hero unfold.

He leaned into the mic, and closed his eyes. Possibilities flooding his mind, clouding his senses. Why were you here? Why were you wearing Dabi's coat? Did you come here just to see him? Why was Dabi holding you so close to him? Why does he have his arms on you like that?

"Because I'm an idiot." He spoke into the mic. A hush fell on the crowd, and you looked up. Both your eyes met, you could sense the hurt in his eyes, you could see the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Because I hid information about myself that I shouldn't have. Because I slipped and everyone was watching me. Because everyone just couldn't let us be." Hawks closed his eyes.

For a moment, a flash appeared before his eyes. It was you. You in all your beauty and grace. You comforting him after a long day of work. You smiling and laughing at his corny jokes. You running your fingers through hair and untangling it for him. You kissing his bruises. You sitting on his bed, tinkering with something you found in his house. You holding him after a nightmare. You. All he could think about was you. How your lips felt against his. How your foreheads touched whenever you finished kissing. How your hands felt so warm holding his. How he was a lucky bastard.

"So.." head raised, the first few strand of his hair falling into his tear filled eyes. He choked on air, his lip quivering. "So, baby bird, I am sorry for being such a selfish bastard." His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. You were staring at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. The eyes that he would stare at for hours, without feeling a hint of boredom. "I am sorry for hiding the truth. "His voice got louder, louder and louder until he was yelling. "I am sorry for letting you go so easily. I am sorry for hurting you!"

"Hawks—"

"Bastards, all of you." He spat out, looking directly at Dabi and the frozen crowd of shocked journalists. They were the reason. They were the reason you weren't with him. They were the reason your laugh and your smile were stolen away from him. If they could've just let him explain.

"Songbird, I love you." Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes that were full to the brim with tears were now spilling your emotions into view. Dabi only noticed when your figure started shaking in his arms. "Hey, let's go.." He tried to drag you away, but you wouldn't budge. Keigo was staring right at you, unfolding into a mess, a crumb of a man he once was. Tears streaming down his handsome face, eyeliner ruined. Your heart felt crushed. Like it was an ornament that was knocked down by a carless child. You couldn't imagine what he was feeling, but you were sure that he wouldn't be able to handel all that pain alone. So you stepped to the front subconciously, and if it weren't for Dabi's hands around your waist, you would've ran right over and reunited with your lover.

"I love you." He repeated, desperate. Memories were flashing right before his eyes. Your first meeting in that grocery store infront of UA. Your first kiss under the moonlight during a patrol. Your first dance. Your first date. Your cuddles on the couch in winter. Your odd sleeping positions in summer. Moments. The way you would lean into his chest when he sat you on his lap. The way you liked him to tuck his wings around your body because it felt warm and you like the feeling of feathers against your skin. "I love you! I love you!"

"Let's get out of here." Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed just a bit, not too forcefully. You were surprised by his gentleness, but you couldn't take your eyes off him. "I love you. I love you.." He was staring at you with such desperation, such longing, such regret. You didn't want to forgive him, you tried not to. But you couldn't. You couldn't, because he made it so hard. He made it so hard to hate him.

"Till the stars die and till the sky falls, remember?" His voice was much lower now. He was leaning over the stand so much that it almost fell over. You clasped a hand on your mouth, and let out a silent sob. You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Cameras were pointed at you. That's when you looked away, after giving Keigo a long, parting look. That's when you followed Dabi into the crowd.

Hawks watched as you walked away, back given to him. He wanted to move, he wanted to follow you, he was telling every limb on his body to move, but he couldn't. He looked down at his body. It was glowing. Glowing with a white aura around it. You. You were using your quirk on him, forcing him in place, not letting him move and rescue you.

He didn't understand why. Why didn't you want him to rescue you now that you found each other again? Did you really loathe him that much? Did he really mess up that badly?

So, all he could do was helplessly watch you go. Watch you as you disappear into the crowd, with the flame user by your side, knowing that one day, you might reunite again.

And then when that time comes, he won't mess it up.

a/n: aaaaah! my first oneshot on tumblr. i hope you liked it. posting this is basically testing the waters, but i enjoyed it so i think I will keep writing on here!