#This guy always manages to ruin my Christmas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carmenized-onions · 3 months ago

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Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!”

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!”

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days.

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today.

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed.

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?”

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be.

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—”

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—”

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this.

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic.

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.”

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be.

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing.

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—”

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu.

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers.

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant.

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand, “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.”

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?”

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?”

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd.

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you.

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells.

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.”

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you.

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer.

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.”

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.”

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!”

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it.

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations.

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute. Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit.

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.”

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.”

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened.

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—”

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better.

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask.

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.”

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.”

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression.

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.”

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.”

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.”

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.”

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.”

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.”

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them.

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats.

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass.

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while.

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience.

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.”

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer.

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t.

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons.

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later.

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms.

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say.

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!”

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—”

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!”

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.”

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?”

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad.

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already, you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no.

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—”

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win.

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.”

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed.

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce.

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other.

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.”

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.”

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.”

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front.

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?”

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?”

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point.

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now.

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together.

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?”

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—”

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them.

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick.

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.”

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing.

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.”

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances.

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone.

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be.

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week?

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured.

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.”

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting.

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece.

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.”

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks.

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best?

He’s the best.

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.”

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best.

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back.

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him.

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety.

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.”

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them.

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

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

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moonchild701 · 9 days ago

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Secret Santa

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Summary: The League has a Secret Santa event and you get Dabi. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Dabi/Gen Reader

Content Warning: Crack, Fluff, SFW, Quirked Reader (kinda like Blackwhip?), Endeavor Bashing(?)

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 2nd part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Prompt: Secret Santa

My Masterlist

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It's really Toga's fault.

Her wanting to celebrate Christmas wasn't really a surprise to anyone who knows her, because it really shouldn't be.

In Japan, Christmas is like another Valentine's day, where it's full of couples in love celebrating with each other, going into the new year.

It's also a time of family, one of which she no longer has, biologically speaking. Now with her new family, she wants to celebrate with them and show them how much she loves them!

And being the baby of the group, the others tend to indulge her when they can, letting her have a childhood as much as they can manage in their line of life.

So when she asked to decorate the bar, they let her.

When she asked to make chocolate chip cookies, Kurogiri made them right along with her.

When she asked to do a secret Santa exchange, they indulged her.

.....And that's where it went all wrong.

Because see, you got Dabi as the one you're to give a gift to.

You think anyone else might've been easier to find a gift for.

Shigaraki would've been easier. Just throw a new video game or game merch at him, and he'll be happy.

But Dabi? What the fuck does that man even like other than arson and revenge?!

You thought to maybe get him some new piercings or something but that just seems so....bland.

And it could work, could be enough for him, but it wouldn't be enough for him to you.

Not after nursing a festering crush on him for almost as long as you've known him.

So after agonizing for days over what to get him, with time ticking down, you resorted to asking the others for ideas.

What made you think asking criminals, murderers and psychopaths, would be a good idea, you don't know, but you did.

And maybe there's something to be said about you that you actually listened to their advice.

"Chocolates and confess!" Toga had said. You swear her pupils turned into hearts at the thought of love, and frankly, you were scared.

"A new fashion sense may do." Compress said, doing tricks with a deck of cards. You still don't know if he was joking.

"A gift with meaning, maybe something you have in common." Twice said earnestly, before immediately ruining it. "You, wrapped in nothing but ribbons. He'd love that!" And, well, you don't feel like simultaneously embarrassing yourself and getting burnt to a crisp so.....

"I can show you where I got my Stain merch!" Spinner said with stars in his eyes. The poor guy looked so dejected when you declined, but again, you like not being crispy.

"Some manners perhaps?" Polishing a glass, Kurogiri said it so seriously, you had to laugh. Again, you don't even know if he was joking.

"Just get him some more jewelry, hon. You can't go wrong there, right?" Of course Magne was the most sensible but it just wasn't enough! You may not want to outwardly confess your feelings but you still want to show it in some way; show him that you care.

And as a last resort, you turned to Shigaraki.

"Tch, I don't know, Endeavor's head on a pike? He's always complaining about him." Shigaraki said, eyes trained on his switch, barely paying you any mind. And yet, it was the most profound thing to you in your dumb, love sick mind.

Because of course that's what you should get him! His revenge on a silver platter! You won't take his revenge from him, stealing his kill and the satisfaction of it, but you can do something.

Now, a sane person would step back and think to themselves, hey. This is the Number Two Hero in the country. Mayhaps have a solid, sensible plan.

But alas, that was not you, for you are in love with a less than sane person, which absolutely made you at least half insane by osmosis.

So with a bright, chirped, "Thanks Shiggs!", you went on your way.

Shigaraki did not acknowledge this, nor did he process a word of this interaction.

*****

Mind set, you find your way to Endeavor's house. You would think that being such a huge public figure, he'd live in a secure, gated community at least. But no, he just lives in a giant house in a normal neighborhood, albeit on the wealthy side of the spectrum.

The traditional style of it is beautiful, if a bit gaudy, but you figure it comes with being Number Two.

At midnight, you sneak in. It's honestly pathetic how easy it is, with no alarms or anything going off.

Light on your feet, you make your way through the house. It takes a while, but you eventually find his bedroom.

The man, of course, sleeps like the psychopath he is.

Flat on his back, hands clasped over his stomach, without a blanket, feet hanging over the edge of the bed by his ankles.

He snores like a congested bear, so whatever sounds you might've made are drowned out.

The black tendrils of your quirk whip out, simultaneously snagging his wrists, arms, torso and legs, as a thick cord of it wraps tightly around his throat, holding him in place as he momentarily struggles, while you inject him with tranquilizer, only releasing him when he falls back unconscious.

You hum in satisfaction at your handiwork, before realizing you need a way to transport and store him.

A quick text to Kurogiri has you in one of the League's spare warehouses, making use of one of the empty shipping crates lying around as it's the only thing on hand that's big enough to fit him into.

Using your quirk, you lift him into it, not caring enough to be gentle, instead just kind of....tossing him in.

Closing the lid, you leave him overnight, knowing he'll stay unconscious, though still breathing thanks to the holes in the box.

The next day, you come back with supplies.

Earphones in, you listen to the news on Endeavor's disappearance, and the fact that there are no leads, satisfied as you get to work.

After trying to make him look somewhat presentable, sticking a shiny, blue bow to his forehead with gorilla glue, because his sweat kept making it peel off, you wrap and decorate the crate, trying to make it as pretty as you can given the circumstances, and you smile satisfied with your gift. He's pumped full of tranquilizer and quirk suppressants, wrapped up nice and tidy, so all that's left is to present him.

You hope Dabi likes his gift.

*****

Christmas day is soon upon you, and everyone is ready with their presents.

Tomura gets some prequirk game from Spinner and he lights up brighter than the Christmas lights Toga put up.

Compress gets a pair of pretty, gold cufflinks from Shigaraki.

Twice gets a book that he's been gushing about for weeks from Kurogiri.

Toga gets a case with vials of blood, within a bat themed purse from Magne.

Kurogiri gets a new wine set from Compress.

Magne gets a dress from Twice, handmade and pretty.

Spinner gets some Stain merch from Dabi, which...fitting but why the fuck do they know where to get them??

You get a pretty knife with intricate carvings on the handle from Toga.

The last one to receive their gift is Dabi, and you're nervous. You ask Kurogiri to transport you all to the warehouse, explaining that it can't fit in the bar and it might not be safe anyway, and all of them follow curiously, not knowing what to expect.

*****

Dabi looks at the giant, wrapped box with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

It's big. Bigger than what should make sense for a Christmas gift. It's wrapped meticulously in shiny, blue and black iridescent wrapping paper, topped with a giant, pearly white bow, and it sticks out like a sore thumb, looking out of place among the bland brown of the surrounding crates and grey, concrete walls and floors.

He feels an ominous presence from it, and is sorely tempted to just light it ablaze.

Glancing at your nervous yet excited smile, he decides against it....for now.

You gesture towards it, with a shaky, "Merry Christmas Dabi." He hums, walking cautiously towards it. He considers burning off the paper, but decides to keep to the tradition of tearing it apart like a child on, well, Christmas, to reveal the shipping crate.

He glances at you one last time, then opens the crate, before promptly bluescreening.

Because inside the crate is the last thing he expects.

Within it, Endeavor lays slumped, tied up, with a blue ribbon stuck to his forehead, drooling onto his chest.

The warehouse is completely silent, everyone in disbelief at what they're seeing.

You play with your fingers, twiddling your thumbs. "Do you like it?", you ask, all hopeful and sweet, like you didn't just gift someone a grown ass man in a box.

In the silence, your voice echoes, and it seems to be what they needed, because everyone snaps back into their bodies, realizing that oh. This is real.

"What the fuck..." is Dabi's first response, his voice shaky with bewilderment.

"Um...I also have Chocolates?" You laugh nervously. Maybe he doesn't like it.....

Suddenly, Dabi grabs your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss, then pulling back to stare into your eyes. "You're mine now."

And you smile, dopey and bright. "Uh huh."

The moment is interrupted when Shigaraki finally reboots. "WHAT THE FUCK, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU—" He begins to rant, but you cut him off, confused.

"Shiggs, you were the one that gave me the idea...." you say, brows furrowed.

Shigaraki looks positively baffled at the foreign truth you speak, a vein bulging at his temple.

"WHEN THE FUCK—" He starts again.

"WHILE YOU WERE PLAYING ON THE SWITCH?!?! TWO DAYS AGO!?! PAY ATTENTION WHEN PEOPLE ARE SPEAKING TO YOU DAMMIT!!"

In the background, eyes bright, Dabi kicks the crate, jolting the unconscious trash, and grins.

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#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #my fics #sfw

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cat3ch1sm · 1 year ago

Note

Alright so I have a HUGE thing for Silva and Zeno to the point where I’d be delighted to have them step on me and call me worthless 😩💖

So would you have the time and energy to write some headcanons on how Killua would react if a friend of his (aka female reader) were to nonchalantly comment about how his dad and grandpa are hot?

I wanna ruin this gremlin’s mind so much please! <3

OMG if you want to, would you be willing to make Killua’s friend comment that to him but IN FRONT of Silva and Zeno too???

💚~ LMFAOAOAO u guys request the most chaotic shit and im totally here for it. here’s ur request!! merry Christmas guys ily <33 @cocogum

also i can definitely relate

fem!reader

u and killua have been friends for a while. literally probably the most chaotic pair anyone’s ever seen. just constantly doing stupid reckless borderline deadly shit. u are one of the very few who can always keep up with killua and can tolerate the same shit he does

he’s the friend who is always risking his life with the things he does and ur the friend who is always risking their life with the things you say. you have zero filter basically. and he really does not care at all, tbh he thinks you’re hilarious

anyway that’s why killua really has no problem bringing u over to his house. he’s never done it before, but you two aren’t the type to make a big deal of things like that, so whatever he just decides to drop by with u

you’ve never met his parents or siblings, but killua has never been lacking on his descriptions of them. whenever you ask he always makes it a point to tell you how nuts they are. but he sort of knows you can handle it even tho his family doesn’t like that he has friends in the first place, but tbh he doesn’t care much atp

anyway he brings you to his place and you go through the whole shebang of the super heavy doors and getting past mike but basically you two are good to go. the butlers welcome you both in and that’s that

you actually do meet his family who are about as off putting as you expected. his little brother kalluto is the tamest; he acknowledges you with a barely perceptible nod and that’s that. killua doesn’t bother introducing u to milluki and thankfully illumi and kikyo aren’t in the house right now. however, you both do run into silva and zeno.

the piercing glares they give you should be enough to freeze you in your tracks. there’s obviously an aura of dread that comes with their presence that killua had vaguely warned you about. but something honestly catches your eye about them, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth to hide the mischievous smile spreading across your lips. but to your surprise, the two men don’t even come over and bother to speak to you. they just give you disdainful looks and go on their way. looks like you aren’t really worth their time.

but as the two are walking away and you and killua start to head out, you turn and whisper to killua in a voice you very soon discover wasn’t actually a whisper, “wait, kil, your dad and grandpa are kinda hot.”

needless to say, this is the one time killua doesn’t find your lack of filter funny. his blue eyes instantly fly open and he yanks you aside, hissing, “why the fuck-“

that’s all he manages to get out. the zoldyck men have stopped in their tracks. your eyes widen as well and you clap a hand over your mouth.

“oh my fucking god-“ killua doesn’t even turn around to see his father and grandfather, he just yanks you along with him as he basically teleports out of the house. you don’t even have time to process his reaction before you both are suddenly far away from the zoldyck mansion.

you both pause once you’re out of earshot, exchanging wide-eyed looks before you collapse into giggles in the grass and killua slaps both hands against his face. “are you actually out of your fucking mind- never mind, you actually fucking are. what the hell is wrong with you??”

you’re way too busy laughing to answer, pointing at killua’s totally red face. he hides it behind his hands with a loud, exasperated groan.

“i’m going to puke. i’m going to throw the fuck up all over you, you asshole. take that shit back literally right now. oh my god. i’m going to kill you and then myself, you absolute dumbass.”

this goes on for at least ten minutes. you’re basically wheezing at this point, and you don’t stop until killua threatens to leave you behind.

“i am never taking you to my house again, you psychopath. like, i know you have shitty ass taste in guys, but are you serious?? you’re mental. actually insane. seriously?? no, take that shit back, my dad and grandpa are not hot.”

you start to walk away, still laughing, and killua is hot on your heels.

“where the hell are you going?! take that back right now, or i swear to god-“

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #hunter x hunter #reader x killua zoldyck #killua x you #reader x killua #killua zoldyck x reader #killua hc #killua headcanons #killua x reader #killua hxh #killua zoldyck x you

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ultralightpoe · 1 year ago

Text

Full House lll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Omg. Me? Staying on schedule? Never.

Word Count: 10112

Warnings: None? Idk.

Part One HERE and Part Two HERE

(Thank you for the gif @psychecreations )

Enjoy!

“When’s the first doctors appointment?” Nancy asks, walking up to where you were currently standing at your jobs wait station. You jump, dropping the order pad you had been scribbling in as you turn to find her leaning on the wall.

“What? Why are you here?”

“I was craving chicken and didn’t want to hear Steves kfc imitation. So we decided to come here.” She smiles, rubbing her stomach ever so slightly. “Plus it meant I got to check on you.”

“Oh I’m fine.” You lie, forcing a smile on your face as she narrows her eyes.

It’s been 4 days since the Christmas fiasco, and 4 days since you realized Eddie was leaving. You tried to pick yourself back up the day of Christmas but ended up telling everyone that you were really sick and should shut the party down early. They had all gone to Steves and you were truly embarrassed to think of what they might have been saying about you.

God, did you have to ruin everything you touched?

“You never answered my question.”

“Oh? I was just sick. It’s not a serious bug or anything. I just didn’t want to get you guys sick on Christmas. That would have been bad” you lie again, feeling a coiling feeling in your gut. “Why don’t you go sit?”

“Y/n, girl I love you. But you’re showing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Especially in this waitressing uniform.” It was true. Normally the old school 70s uniform fit you like a glove, falling just to your thighs and it made tips so much easier. Right now? It was on the tighter side…… which made tips even easier because your boobs looked great but you felt terrible about everything.

“Does he know?” Nancy asks, and you have to stop yourself from telling her or shove off. After a moment of silence she seems to take that for an answer. “Y/n….. Eddie needs to know.”

“Why? So I can trap someone else?” You laugh bitterly. “That poor guy has already put up with enough of my shit. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go grab tables.”

You walk past her, not giving her a chance to argue as you completely avoid looking to their tables direction and move to your own section of the floor to greet a new table.

Pam, one of your favorite regulars, sees you and greets you with a smile. “You never work Friday nights!”

You always spent Friday nights with Eddie and the girls for movie night. But Eddie ran and you needed to make rent so tonight Max was watching them.

“Starting now I will be. You want your usual babe?”

“You know it!.” She giggles.

Steve tried saying bye before they left and you pretended you didn’t see him as you took orders, by the end of the night your feet were killing you and you all but limped inside to where Max was sitting at the table doing college homework with her headphones on.

Either she didn’t have them loud or she was on edge, your guess being a bit of both, she knows you're there and turns to you when you enter the kitchen.

“Thank you so much Max.” You mumble, pulling out the tip money you had set aside for her. “I’m sorry I ran late.”

“No need to pay.” She smiles, pushing the money away. “I like spending time with them.”

That tight feeling in your stomach is back, digging in as you stare at the redhead. She had been part of the reason you chose Hawkins, Billy had (in one of his rare good moments) described the way Max seemed to blend in and find a home here. He told you about the friends she made and how she managed to grow into a brave person and you wanted that for your own. So, assuming she was gone, you moved out here. Little did you know you find her soon enough along with an entire group of people connected to your ex.

You had always been told max was dead.

Max had always been told Billy was dead.

You didn’t know how she figured you out until Eddie told you about VECNA and Lucas told you about his girlfriends sight for things.

“I…. I saw the tickets.” She admits, blush traveling her cheeks as you move to make a cup of tea. The cupboard was still broken and you couldn’t bear to look at it.

“What tickets?”

“You left your folder out on the table. I saw that you were figuring out where to go.” Max admits and you can’t help but tense.

“I just….. I don’t want the girls being surrounded by…..”

“Billy?”

“Yes…..” you admit, still keeping your back to her as you boil water. “And Eddie. I just don’t want them knowing that he left them. They adore him too much.”

Coward. Coward. COWARD.

“I’m not a mom, but I can get your urge to protect them.” Max mumbles. “But what if they end up hating you for taking them away.”

“Then they have someone to blame. I’d rather them blame me than themselves. It is my fault anyways.” You admit, tears springing into your eyes. “Anyways. Take the money, go have fun.”

“Do you need me again this week? I saw that you work on New Year’s Eve.”

“No. You should be going out with your friends.”

“The boys have a start of the year campaign and El is taking a trip with Hopper. I’m free.” She laughs, trying to break the tension built up. “I’ll be here at 2.”

You can’t get the words thank you out because of how tight your throat is, so you just mouth them as she grabs the money and passes.

Steve could not stop laughing when he saw Eddie’s face the day he brought the car into the shop, leaning over on his knees to catch his breath as he wheezed out.

Dylan, the other mechanic, kept looking over to watch the scene unfold as Eddie tried to focus on his friends car.

“Harrington.”

“Dude I know- it’s just that your face is so purp-hahaha.” Another fit of laughter and Eddie is debating throwing his drill at him. He was in no shape to be dealing with him today.

Truth was Eddie had barely gotten a wink of sleep, he couldn’t manage to. Not used to not having you beside him, or not having the girls night light and soft lullabies. It had been 5 days since he saw you and he was beginning to lose his mind and resolve.

Almost every night he nearly talked himself into going back, then he remembered Motleys broken cries as they carted him off and the way she clung to your hip. The way she screamed for her dad as Eddie attacked him.

Monster monster monster.

“Gotta give it to Hargrove. He knows how to punch.”

“Yeah well, hope he had his fun.” Eddie snaps, leaning back to make sure he adjusted the part correctly.

“Did you get him back?”

“I got a few licks in.” Eddie mumbles, feeling guilty about the pride that washes over him as he remembers the way he beat Billy's face in. That was motleys dad. As much as he enjoyed hitting him he probably just scarred the Metalhead for life.

“Oh a few licks.” Steve scoffs, moving to take a seat on the stool at Eddie’s workstation. “I know how strong you are Munson. You got more than a few licks in.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Motley was right there! She’s gonna hate me forever.” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh you mean more than they already do?” This pulls Eddie’s attention, he had been doing so good about not asking but he was dying to know. What had they said? Were they happy he’s gone? Mad that he fought Billy?

“What’d they say?”

“Not much of anything. Nancy knows something is up but your girl is keeping her lips sealed pretty well. I didn’t even know about your fight with jackass until I saw your face.”

“But you said they were mad.”

“Yeah man, you missed Christmas and just dipped. Leaves a bad impression.”

“Oh whatever. They are better off, I just ruin everything.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve gasps, looking at Eddie like he’s figured everything out. “You’re self sabotaging!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! You think you’re the bad guy and so you’re trying to run away which is just making you even more of a bad guy which means my wife can stop threatening to shave your head.”

“I….. no man you don’t get it.”

“I do get it. I get it more than anyone else and let me be the first to tell you that you’re being a massive idiot.” He sighs, standing up. “Motley was waiting by that window to spot you that entire day.”

“S……she was?”

“Yeah Munson. She was.”

“I just….. I don’t want to be the one holding them back. I don’t want her to hate me.”

“Did you ever think that maybe Motley chose you? Like you chose Wayne?” Steve asks, watching Eddie deflate before his eyes before turning to the car. “I’m not paying by the way. Consider my advice enough.”

“Ass.”

Eddie spends the day of New Year’s Eve by the phone, fighting the urge to call.

What would he say? How would he explain?

No. Don’t call. This is for the better.

Yes. Call. Just pick the phone just for the chance to hear your voice.

God damn when did life get so complicated?

“What are you doing?” Wayne asks, watching eddie from his spot on the couch. “Quit wearing down my carpet.”

The carpet has been worn down since Eddie had moved in, but he chooses not to comment instead he sits by the phone, keeping his pinky on the handle of the plastic and glaring at it.

“You expecting a call?”

“No.” Eddie groans, rubbing his chest to try and relieve some of the pain built up. God he missed you guys. “Fuck. I’m gonna go smoke.”

He rushes to the back porch before Wayne could argue, hearing the old man laugh as he slams the door.

There is a dog out there when he exits, chewing on a stick found from the trees and sitting right by the fence. Upon looking a little closer he sees that the dog actually seems caught under the fence, like he was trying to sneak in.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, keeping the joint between his lips as he walks up, socked feet stepping on sticks and stones making him grunt out and try walking on his tippy toes.

He looks back with a smile, expecting a giggle from one of the girls at his weird walk before he realizes he’s alone. Shit.

The dog is panting patiently when Eddie comes up, and the man reaches a hand to let him sniff before moving to help. The dog chooses to kiss at his arm, tongue lapping at the skin as Eddie lifts the fence to try and help free him.

“Why you sneaking in pal?” He grunts, bending the fence. “You hungry?”

Within moments the dog is out, jumping up and kissing at his face for being rescued. “God. Motley would love you.”

“Shhhhh Ziggy.” Motley whispers to her baby sister, pulling her closer to the corner. The way daddy eddie set up her room was perfect.

He had put her bed in the center which left a small corner by her nightstand hidden from the door.

Over the past week she had looked for Daddy Eddie’s number, finding it sprawled under the label emergency numbers where he had written it under Wayne.

It was so weird that Daddy Eddie called his dad Uncle Wayne. Adults were so confusing.

Before you had left for your shift that night you made sure to wish Motley a happy new year and made her promise to behave. Little did you know that she had crossed her fingers behind her back.

The second you were gone she dashed to grab the closest phone, pulling it into her room and hiding it as Max struggled to cook nuggets for dinner.

Later that night when Auntie Max was reading on the couch Motley tiptoed to Ziggys room before sneaking her sister out of her crib and tip toeing back as Ziggy giggles happily.

“Sissy…” She giggles, pulling at Motleys cheeks happily. “Zigsy.”

“No your Ziggy silly. I’m motley.” She corrects as she shuffles with her sister in an awkward half hold half walk carry until they are in the corner. “Okay Ziggy. Sissy needs your help. You remember the plan?”

“Zigzy!”

“Oh boy…..”

The phone rings late, and Eddie sits up in the couch to lean his upper body to answer it, stressed and annoyed.

The stray dog lifts their head, huffing at being woken up and tilting to hear, one ear shooting up. “Easy Zeppelin.”

The dog barks, and Eddie likes to think he enjoyed the name as he picks the phone up. “Munson residence.”

God it felt weird saying that again.

“DADDY!” Motley whispers, sounding scared. Eddie is instantly up, standing on his feet and swiping at his face to wake up a little more.

“Motley? What’s wrong baby?”

“Someone’s trying to get in daddy.”

“Get in where? Where are you?” He’s already reaching for his keys, heart beating through his ears as his hands shake.

“We’re at home.” She whines.

“Where’s mommy?”

“At work!” Fuck. “Okay. Okay. Just hide. Just like daddy told you, remember? If anything happens, hide. You know where Ziggy is?”

“She’s with me.”

“Good girl. Get under your bed or in your closet. I’ll be right there.” He mumbles, calling out to Wayne to grab the phone before booking it out of the trailer.

He gives no time for the van to warm up, tearing out of the trailer park so quickly he’s sure he hit someone’s patio chair, mumbling under his breath a panicked “fuckfuckfuck”

The van is uneven as Eddie pulls in quickly, shifting gears to park so hard it makes a grinding sound before he is swinging the door open and tearing out. His feet hit the gravel before the grass as he rushes to the front door, using his shoulder to shove it open harshly.

A scream tears out in to the air at his entrance before a book is thrown at him which makes him yell out at whoever is in the house.

“EDDIE?!”

“MAXINE?!” He snaps, blinking at her. “What the fuck you doing?”

“What am I doing?! What are you doing?! You physco!”

“Motley said that someone was trying to break in!”

“I put Motley to bed an hour ago.” Max grunts, confusion lacing her features.

“You’re babysitting?”

“Obviously.”

“But her car is in the front.” Eddie felt like he was going crazy. “And since when does she work nights?!”

“Her car wouldn’t start so she took the bus today.” Max sighs, rolling her eyes. “And she needs extra cash. Probably for the plane tickets to get out of here.”

“Tickets out of….” Before Eddie can process her words any further there is a small pair of eyes looking around the corner drawing his attention.

Ziggy moves quickly, coming around the corner with a very excited giggle, walking to him as fast as her little feet would allow. “Da-Ed-ay!”

“Hey there baby girl.” He smiles, picking her up and swooping her into his arms to kiss all over her face. It was odd, just how much he missed this and it seemed like she had gotten so much bigger in the 4 days he missed.

“I swear to god I put her to bed. How did she get out of her crib?!” Max glares, right as the culprit behind it all comes rushing out to run at Eddie.

“I knew you’d come! I knew it daddy!” She giggles, running at him and throwing her arms around him tightly. “You came back!”

“Motley?” He starts, brain beginning to process what she was saying. “Did you…. Lie to get me here?”

“I did!” She smiles, peering up at him with big doe eyes. “I lied daddy! And now you’re here and you can take all my Barbie’s!”

“If you know lying is bad and you’ll get punished, why did you do it?” He asks, pulling her off before squatting to her level. “Metal head, that was very dangerous-“

A gust of air leaves him as her arms wrap around his neck tightly, tears springing from her eyes. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”

“Motley I’m not mad, that was just dangerous and it scare-“

“No! About Billy. I’m sorry daddy.” His heart plummets, his brain racking to figure out what she was talking about. Why was she sorry?

“No. No I’m sorry.” He sighs, turning to see Max staring at them intently. “Hey max. Think you can take Ziggy for a moment?”

“Sure thing mop head.” The redhead scoops Ziggy up causing the young toddler to scream and kick, reaching chubby fingers out for Eddie. As much as he wanted to take her back he had to focus on Motley.

“Come sit.” He nods his head, leading her to the kitchen table sitting in the chair beside hers and angling it so they were facing. “Listen….. Daddy ha- Well I have been feeling really bad about Christmas Eve. I never meant to do that, or to attack your dad in front of you.”

“But-“

“I owe you a big apology for that Motley. And I don’t know what you’re feeling sorry about, pretty girl, but it’s not your fault and you have no reason to be sorry.” He murmurs, swiping the tears that fall from her cheek. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I told Billy he couldn’t come for Christmas Daddy!” She blurts, her tears hit against his thumb as he keeps swiping her cheek. “I’m sorry!”

“No no no. You don’t be sorry.” He moves to pick her up, sitting her on his lap with her face pressed into his chest as he rubs his palm over her hair to try and soothe her. “Let’s just take a deep breath, okay? Then you can tell me what happened.”

There’s something coiling in his gut at her tears. Pain, anger, sadness. He truly could not tell, but he kept her close and rocked her back and forth to let her cry. When she finally calmed down enough to talk she started telling him.

“He was really mean daddy. And he kept t-telling me that y-you we’re gonna replace me-“ her body racks with sobs again. “He said you didn’t want me. A-and I was upset! But he w-was mean to you-“

“Easy.” He whispers, wiping her cheek once more. “You gotta breathe pretty girl.”

“He was m-mean. Said mean things about you daddy and mean things ab- I’m sorry! I-“ her sobbing gets worse and Eddie shushes her, choosing to rock her back and forth and keep her in his tight embrace. “And you w-were ma-you were madatme.”

“No no. I was never mad.” He sighs. “Daddy was never mad at you.”

“You were.”

“No, I was just scared. I…. Daddy didn’t want you hating him.” Eddie explains. “I just wanted to give you space. Having 2 dads is confusing. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“He hit you.”

“Did he ever hit you motley?” Eddie asks sternly, squeezing her a bit in comfort.

“He spanked me.” That feeling in his stomach settled on rage.

“That’s not fair. And you shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Please don’t leave again.” As much as he wanted to promise her that he wouldn't, that wasn’t a promise he could make. You probably hated him, and he would have to talk this out with you first.

“Let’s get you to bed yeah? Daddy will tuck you in.”

“I want mama.”

“Well she’s at work.” He mumbles against her hair.

“Can we go get milkshakes?”

“I don’t know…..” it was almost 10. Then again it was New Year’s Eve and he didn’t want you taking the bus home so this would give him an excuse to go pick you up. “Only if they have chocolate.”

“You already know they have chocolate!” She giggles, and he can’t stop the way his heart seems to light up.

It was a busy night, and the smell of the jalapeno nachos all your tables were ordering was making you nauseated and angry. You wanted to throw up, maybe cry, maybe throw up then cry.

Apparently a town next to Hawkins lost power so a bunch of people were driving to this place to have a good new years which meant you were going to be stuck here forever. You found yourself stressing about the bus’ schedule as you dashed to run food.

This is what you had been doing when you spotted him. Running a tray of jalapeño nachos to your table, keeping it a safe distance from your nose as you thought about the fact that you might have to walk, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, leather jacket and wide eyes, as you caught him looking for you. And he was holding Ziggy.

What the fuck Maxine?!

“Y/n get a move on!” Your manager calls and you snap out of it, moving to deliver the tray as the host seats Eddie.

You hear Motley call out “mommy!” And instantly knew that they would now be sat in your section. Did it make you a bad mother if you admitted you would rather die than face him tonight?

“Mama!” Your daughter calls, making you look over as she slides in, Eddie sitting right next to her and then you are forced to confront this. You should have learned about birth control. Better yet maybe you should have practiced the art of condoms more.

Thinking of all the ways you could have prevented this situation as you gaze at your daughters adorable smiling face. God she was beautiful….. still should have used a condom.

“What a surprise. I could have sworn I left you guys with Max.” You try to smile, avoiding looking at Eddie as Ziggy reaches for you. You grab her gently, bouncing her on your hip and she starts playing with your hair clip.

“I got daddy!” Motley admits proudly, pointing to Eddie which makes you look at him. Your heart thumping against your chest, adrenaline rushing through you as he stares at you with those god damn brown eyes.

“Munson.” You greet, turning back to Motley. “Girls, stay in the booth for a moment. Okay? I’m gonna talk to him outside.”

You walk off after that, leaving Eddie no choice but to follow as he jumps up and runs to catch up. The winter hair hits you, and you immediately wrap your arms around yourself to keep some of the warmth, the crappy waitress outfit doing nothing for you.

The second you hear your name fall from his lips you whirl, slapping him in the chest to push him back. “What the fuck is the matter with you munson?!”

“I…. Give me a moment to explain, please.”

“Explain?! EXPLAIN?!” A bitter laugh splits from your lips. “Look. I get it. My life was a bit too messy and fucked up, I’d run too. But you bringing the girls here is just making it worse. You’re going to get their hopes and it’s gonna crush them.”

“Too messy? Who said anything about it being too messy?”

“WHY ELSE WOULD YOU RUN?!” Your voice raises louder than you thought it would, but you don’t back down. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to my daughters without me. Now I gotta tell them-“

The words ‘my daughters’ sound wrong, and you can’t fight the disgust that coats you as you trail off, eyes widening as he stares back at you with a set jaw. “I just mean….. I get why you left okay? My life is chaos and you were really nice for staying and pretending like it was fine. But those girls…. They can’t know you left cause of that. I was hoping, as shitty as it sounds, that after a couple years they’d forget. Y’know?”

You are swiping at your cheeks as tears stream down your face, trying not to look at him. You catch him moving up, his hands outstretched, but you move backwards so he can’t grab you. “Eds. Y-you should just go. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No it won’t-“

“It will. I’ll be fine. I won’t be mad-“ then his arms are around you, pulling you in quickly as he shoves your head into his chest and you get to inhale his scent once more. Doing your best not to outright sob.

“I was the mess.” He blurts. “I was scared, okay? I was scared that Billy was gonna turn everyone against me, and I was scared that I ruined Motleys Christmas.”

You scoff, trying to pull away, not really believing the excuse. Before you can fully move he wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand moving to your jaw to drag your eyes up to his own. “I was scared. I was a coward.”

“But-“

“No buts. I didn’t leave cause I thought you were a mess, baby I think you’re perfect and your daughters are so fucking precious to me. I…. You really thought I was running cause I couldn’t handle it?”

“I just-“

“Y/n!” Your boss calls from the door, looking exasperated. “You gettin sick again? Need to go? Or you wanna get paid so you can afford maternity leave?”

You tense again under Eddie’s touch, stomach curling as you try and take a step back while Eddie’s brows knit in confusion before he turns to glare at your boss. “She’s sick.”

“Fine. Take her home. Just have to transfer tables.” The man snaps, turning to walk back in before Eddie is whirling on you.

“Am I crazy or did he just say maternity leave?”

“Eddie….” You sigh, feeling saliva build up as you panic. He watches you, taking a step back just as you lean forward to puke.

The car ride is silent. Not the serene kind of quiet and more so the anxiety inducing type.

You had no clue what to say to him at this point. Suddenly everything just seemed to….. silly. You’re reaction and his reaction. You should have just called. Why hadn’t you called?

No, he should have called.

You were being a decent person and giving him space and “mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?”

“Ya!” Ziggy yells, making Eddie chuckle under his breath as he leans to turn the heater in the car up. It had been forever since you had ridden in this van, since he deemed it unacceptable to drive the girls around in since it lacked seatbelts or a backseat. Even now everytime he braked he means a hand out to block the girls even with Ziggy in your lap.

“I don’t know…”

“Please! Please please.”

“We will talk about it when we get home.”

Only there was no talking about it, the second you got home with the girls Motley ran to throw away her to go milkshake cup then dashed to your bed quickly which turned into a screaming fit when you tried to tell her no.

The word condom just kept circling your mind as you finally just told her to lay down, she did so and Ziggy soon made her appearance to crawl onto the bed.

Eddie takes off his shoes. Moving to lay with the girls as you turn off one of the lights so the room was dark enough for them to fall asleep, and then you shuffle to the bathroom to shower before bed so you didn’t smell like grease and beer.

It wasn’t even 10 minutes before you heard the door open and shut softly, you turn already knowing he is heading for the shower and watch as the curtain opens lightly.

Normally he would jump right in like he belonged there which would make you laugh, tonight he had a questioning gaze, trying not to over step. You give him a small nod and then the curtain is pushed aside and he dives in, still in his shirt and jeans.

“Edward-“ you warn before his lips are on yours in a searing kiss. He keeps one hand on your jaw to keep your lips connected as his other wraps around your back to keep you close as the water runs over both of you getting his clothes soaked. By the time you pull back he’s already working his way down your neck with kisses as you earn him again “clothes.”

The hand holding your jaw moves to cover your mouth quickly as he peers at you, giving you a fake angry expression that has you laughing. “Do not wake our kids.” He whispers before stepping back to undress.

The jeans take a moment to shuck off since they were wet but the second he is free Eddie dives for you again, showing up just how much he missed you.

You sit with him on the floor of the kitchen by the fridge, using the light above the oven as your only source of light while you both snack, keeping cuddled together in nothing but your robes.

Nothing has been said yet, and you were just fine with that, exhausted and happy that he was there. But he has to ruin it, of course he does.

“I’m still sorry.” He murmurs, scraping the cream of one side of an Oreo using the empty side.

“I am too. I think we’re both incredibly stupid right now.”

“You’re telling me.” He blushes. “I just…. There was a time in my life when I hated Uncle Wayne. I had this image in my mind that he was trying to tear me away from my dad. Fuck I just wanted to be with my dad, I looked up to him whether he beat me or not and- the way I treated Wayne and the way I hated him….. my dad didn’t help, everytime I went back with him my mom and I just ended right back up at Wayne’s with more bruises than last time. And when she passed I was the only one there to inflict it. Wayne for him arrested and I swore my world was ending, swore I would never talk to Wayne again.”

“You thought that was what was going on with Motley? That she felt like you were tearing her and her dad apart?”

“Yes and no. I just was trying to prevent that from happening, I didn’t want her to have to experience that choice.” He whispers, picking at the robe. “I just wanted to protect her.”

“She wanted to protect you too.” You whisper back. “That’s love.”

“Billy told her that…. That I was gonna try and replace her.” He gulps, and you stop smiling instantly. “And now that you’re pregnant, and as happy as I am because I am so happy, I need to make sure she knows that I’m not trying to replace her.”

“We’ll make it work.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder. “We always do”

He hums out, laying his head on top of yours and sitting in the silence for a moment before you break it once more. “Where are your rings?”

“Haven’t worn them since I got arrested.” He answers, holding up his bare hands. “My fingers were too bruised and swollen at first, then I just couldn’t care to put them on.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to bed..”

“Give me five more minutes.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss your own, keeping his nose pressed into your hair.

“Why?”

“I just…. I just want to be near you for a little longer.”

The sun peaks through the curtains, hitting Eddie right in the face which in return makes him groan out, moving the pillow around to try and block it. I’m his attempt to move Ziggy wiggles around, giving a displeased noise that her dad woke her up from sleeping before moving to lay right on his chest.

Motley does not move an inch, mouth wide open and eyes sealed shut, Eddie has to reach a hand out to poke her and make sure she’s not dead.

She wrinkles her nose, moving closer and shoving her face in your pillow, staying peacefully asleep.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, and he can only blink at you trying to straighten his eyesight as he watches you zip up your work boots. (For some reason I imagine go go boots with the 70s look. I don’t know guys. I….. I have no clue).

“You going to work?” He blurts, making you jump.

“Sorry, yeah. Max will be here soon to watch the girls. We agreed on it last night before I left.” You mumble, moving to grab your apron.

“I can watch em….” He whispers, staring at you. The way the sun from the window hits you makes you look angelic.

“Okay.” You smile, moving to kiss Motley and Ziggys heads before you move to walk away. Fully offended Eddie snatches your hand and draws you back, annoyed at the shit eating grin on your face.

“Baby,” he whines making you let out a small laugh and lean down to kiss his lips before rushing to leave.

He lays with the girls for a little longer making sure the blanket is covering all three of them before the day truly has to start and he forces himself to get up. Setting Ziggy down without waking her up was a difficult task but he managed, shuffling to the bathroom to change into todays clothes, thankful that he no longer has to wear all the shit clothes he left at Wayne’s when he originally moved out.

Upon exiting the bathroom he nearly trips over Motley, who had been sitting in front of the door. “What are you doing Metalhead?”

“You took forever…” she whines, wrapping herself around his calf which makes him smile. “I wanna stay with you.”

“Okay,” he answers, moving down to peel her off his leg and letting her climb up for a piggy back. “You’re gonna help me make breakfast then.”

“Waffles?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” He smirks, walking down the hall as the front door opens to reveal Max.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” She rushes out, face red from running. “I woke up a little late and-“

“It’s no problem. I’m here if you had other things to do.” Eddie offers. “Or you can stay and have some breakfast?”

“Sounds great. I’m kinda ignoring the rest of the group right now.” She explains, setting her bag down and following them into the kitchen. Eddie gets Max set up at the table, trying to set Motley with her but the girl wiggles and whines so he allows her to stay.

He listens to Max rant about the group as he moves around to make waffles, enjoying the easy feeling he gets being here. God why did he ever leave home?

“-And Lucas is just always set out to fight Erica. You’d think he had a crush on Dustin and wanted to date him. You know? I get it, your baby sister starts dating your closest friend. A little weird. But get over it!”

“I think Uncle Dustin and Auntie Erica are so cute!” Motley adds which makes Eddie chuckle a bit.

“Lucas is upset because he always thought they were in agreement that Erica was annoying.” He explains, bending down to set Motley down and bring the food to the table. “But it’s been months. Time to move on.”

“Exactly!” Max sighs right as Ziggy comes pounding in with an angry look.

“Alone….” She whines and Eddie smiles at her. “Aweee did you wake up alone? My poor little baby.” He coos, picking her up and bringing her close to kiss before setting her on his lap to help her eat. He already knew she would not be into the high chair based on the way even Motley was clinging to him.

Even now, as she used a spoon to shove waffles in her mouth, she kept a hand on his own arm to keep him close.

“I’m gonna work on mamas car today.” He explains. “I’ll be right outside. So maybe you girls can stay in here and keep Max company.”

“I wanna stay with you.” Motley whines, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“No it’s too cold. You stay in here. Okay?” And then Eddie gave her his puppy dog eyes. Oh yeah, can’t beat dads game.

She groans and looks at Max who smiles in return. “I’ve been practicing my barbie voices just for you.”

“Fine! But barbie is married to G.I. Joe! Ken is the villain. We’re not arguing about it again.”

“But isn’t it Barbie and Ken? Wouldn’t Joe be the villain?”

“Maxine.” Motley warns, slamming her tiny hand on the table.

“Fine. Got it.”

It didn’t last long.

Eddie had put on his mechanic suit, trying to keep warm as he took a look at what was going on with your car. 15 minutes in Motley came out wearing her snowsuit and smiling. “Look daddy! I can help!”

“I thought I said to stay inside-“ a laugh breaks out when she takes off the hood of the snow suit to reveal that she tied a bandana over her head like a hat. “That’s not how you tie it. Come here.”

He helps her tie it like his, telling her to sit a little closer to the grass as he keeps working, making sure the radio is on a station she would like as he does so.

By the time you get home she is making snow angels in the snow of the lawn as he curses under his breath.

“What’s going on?” You ask, making him jump and hit his head on the hood of your car. “Oh! I’m so sorr-“

“It’s good. I’m good.” He laughs, letting you fuss over him anyways. He takes his chance to kiss at you before you are pulling back.

“You are covered in car nastiness-“

“You mean grease and oil?” He laughs, keeping you trapped in his arms to rub his cheek on your shoulder. You yell out playfully, still trying to escape as he does so.

“Does this mean you guys are good?” Steve appears, dustin behind him. “Are you done being mad at me Y/n?”

“I was never mad at you!” Eddie keeps his arms around you as you turn to look at Steve, making sure Motley is good.

“Yes you were. I waved at you the other night and you completely ignored me.”

“I didn’t see you wave.” You reply and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“I called your name!”

“It was a busy restaurant, how am I supposed to hear everything.” You scoff, pulling from Eddie’s arms and flipping your hair. “Come on Motley. Let’s go inside.”

“Just admit you saw me wave!” Steve groans, following you to the door before Motley turns to shove him and close the door in his face. “Rude!”

“Steve, did you just get beat up by a kid?” Dustin laughs.

“It’s Eddie’s kid. Does that count?”

“My kids are great!”

Things took a moment to get back to normal, but that was to be expected.

Eddie found the folder of all your research on places to go, running his fingers over the math you sprawled across the pages to figure out how you would afford it, he promptly threw it in the trash bins outside.

Motley stayed glued to Eddie as much as she could, and in the mornings when he had to get up for work she made sure to wake him up and give him a kiss by the door making sure that he swore to come back before she would dash down the hall and lay with you.

Makeup Christmas happened, except it was only Wayne that was invited and instead of a whole feast you guys ordered a crap ton of Chinese food.

Wayne came over early, sneaking around the back and coming in through the back door which confused the girls to no end but they were excited to see their grandpa.

Ziggy also proved that she learned 2 more words by saying “shit grandpa!” All excited and reaching her hands up for him to grab her.

He howls with laughter, scooping her up and throwing her in the air as she screams in excitement.

Everyone sits around the tree opening gifts, Wayne on the couch with Ziggy on his lap helping her open the gifts. Eddie sat by the tree, passing them out with Motley right by him and you next to her.

He pulls out an envelope that has his name sprawled on it and looks at you.

“I had a plan for Christmas. But I kind of had to redo it. I planned on giving you the stick, but figured since you already know I’d get the ultrasound.” Yoh blush, watching his excitedly tear it open.

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone watches him admire the photo, smiling from ear to ear.

“Anything you notice?” You ask, waiting.

“What do you mean?” He asks, before Wayne snaps his fingers and grabs the photo gently.

“There’s two.” Wayne grunts before his eyes light up. “You’re having twins!”

“Obviously….” Eddie mumbles, “we already knew that?”

“What?”

“The stick? It had two blue lines? So that means we’re having twin boys? Right?” Eddie mumbles, staring at you like your crazy.

It’s quiet for a moment as you and Wayne process what he said before you burst into laughter, the girls following even though they had no clue what was going on.

“Not even close boy!” Wayne cackles as you have to wipe some of the tears from your eyes.

“Does that mean you’re pregnant mommy?” Motley asks, turning to look at you with wide eyes. Your heart stops, going back to what Eddie had told you.

“Yes. Mommy is pregnant .” You wait to see her reaction and Eddie finds himself reaching for the gift he had added two days ago. “Motty. I have something for you.”

He snatches the tiny box, holding it out to her. “It’s a really important gift though. Okay?”

She nods slowly, taking the box from him and opening it just as slow. Inside held a simple chain necklace, but when she pulled it out it revealed that he had hung his mothers ring on it, the one he normally wore on his right hand by itself. “I was told to give this ring to someone very special. It’s from my own mom.”

She gasps, turning to him. “You’re giving it to me?!”

“Well yeah! You’re my oldest kid. My firstborn.” He laughs, moving to help her put it on. Then he snatches another box and hands it to her. “This one is for both you and your sister.”

She reaches for it and opens it gently, pulling out a heavy chain that has a dog tag connected to it. “Another necklace?”

“Well…..” Wayne laughs, flipping it to reveal what the dog tag says.

“Who is Zeppeplin?”

“Zeppelin, baby.” You correct, already standing up.

“Who is Zeppelin?” She giggles, which makes Eddie laugh, picking her up by her armpits to make her stand as you go and open the back door.

The dog, a young little puppy at most, snaps his head to the noise and wags it’s tail excitedly upon seeing you.

“Come in!” You smile and he bolts from his spot tearing up sticks to get inside. Once he hits the threshold of the house he is everywhere. Sniffing the fridge to the chairs, jumping on his hind legs to clean up the high chair where Ziggy left her banana. After inhaling that he bolts to explore more, completely missing the living room as he bolts down the hall to sniff all the rooms.

Once Motley sees the flash of fur she screams in excitement, which draws the puppy back and they both just feed off each others excitement.

She’s jumping up and down, screaming in excitement and the dog starts howling to match her while his butt starts wiggling at how hard he is wagging his tail.

“I am so excited for Chinese later.” Wayne murmurs, coming to hug you as Eddie tries to calm both the noisemakers down. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, you’re grandpa.” You smile, watching Ziggy from his arms just stare intently at the scene before her. “She can’t tell whether to be excited or scared.”

Wayne laughs, pointing to the dog and trying to help Ziggy see him.

Later that evening everyone sits around the table, Max with you all, as you pile Chinese food onto the plates. Motley keeps showing Max the necklace she got while Wayne keeps bragging to Eddie about his new Jean jacket.

Zeppelin chooses to sit by Ziggy, and it’s very clear that the dog has already figured out who will drop the most food. Ziggy giggles every time she drops a piece of broccoli and he catches it.

“Now we’re gonna have to watch her every time we give her veggies.” Eddie groans. “She’s got an accomplice!”

“Zeppy and Ziggy!” Motley cheers like their superheroes.

February rolls around soon enough, and your daughters biggest catastrophe had nothing to do with the restraining order on Billy, or her dads new bike (which she was terrified of). No. Motleys world was ending over valentines cards.

Eddie had helped her pick them out, little heart shaped cards that you could stick lollipops in, and had sat with her to write in them as you took Ziggy in for a haircut.

The only one that Motley had not written a card for was Troy, and now the morning of Valentine’s Day she was still panicking.

“I can’t write love cause then he will want to get married!” She explains and Eddie nods like it’s super serious. “And I can’t write like, because then he will know I have a crush on him!”

“Glad you can admit it.” He nods and she rolls her eyes. “Here’s an idea! Okay, you ready metal head?”

“Ready daddy!”

“You can write ‘from Motley’.” He laughs, watching her face go serious.

“That’s what I wrote on the others!”

“Exactly.” He watches as she thinks about it before nodding quickly and writing it down, tossing it in her valentines box and dashing to grab her backpack.

“She finally figure out Troys?” You ask, shuffling Ziggy in. “It’s been days.”

“She did. We decided on writing ‘from motley’.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you before leaning down to kiss your stomach then Ziggy.

“Stevie….” Ziggy giggles, running to the phone. It didn’t take long to figure out that she would be the one to run the phone bill up, even now she spent every morning learning to dial her uncle Steve’s number. She dialed Dustin once but deemed him “poopoo head.”

“Nuh uh. Come eat pretty girl.” Eddie calls, pointing to her chair. “Zeppelin is waiting.”

The dog, who just a month ago had been tiny enough to lay under her chair, now sat at full height beside it. Still a puppy, just bigger.

Ziggy runs, her little pigtails bouncing as Eddie picks her up by the overalls to sit her in the chair. Now trained Ziggy eats his dog food beside her rather than everything she drops, and if somehow someway some of her waffle drops in his bowl then it can’t really be considered his fault.

“Motley, hurry up baby.” You call. “We gotta go.”

“You good to pick Wayne up?” Eddie asks, moving to grab his lunch.

“Yes. I’ll drop Motley off at school and go and grab him.” Wayne had injured his hip, so today you’ll be taking him to the doctors to see what the plan was while Eddie went to work.

“Okay. And Ziggy is still good to-?”

“Ziggy and Zeppelin are going to Nancy’s, yes.” You smile. Nancy had just given birth to her third boy, and she liked having Ziggy over because she liked having another girl in the house.

“Okay. Tell me how it goes?” He asks, leaning to give you one more goodbye kiss as you nod before moving to say bye to Motley. “BYE BEAUTIFUL LADIES!”

The day had started off so well, you should have known it would only go downhill from there.

Wayne sat in the passenger seat of your car, irritated and ranting about shitty doctors. “I’m not doing it. You hear me? Just give me some Tylenol and I’ll be fine.”

“MOMMY!” Ziggy screams, from her spot on her car seat.

The doctor had told Wayne he needed hip surgery and could not work, which meant that Wayne was pissed and you were panicking about what to do. He couldn’t work which meant he wouldn’t be able to make rent and he would need some help to move around. Then when you got to Steve and Nancy’s she had told you that Ziggy had taken quite a stumble off the table and scratched her chin on the corner of the table.

It was a mess.

Both of them were not having a good day and Zeppelin was howling at their ranting and screaming and as much as you loved them you truly debated crashing the car.

Then you got home to yelling.

Eddie stood in the living room, still in his work attire with his hands on his hips and his eyes wide. “You’re in rare fucking form today, you know that?!”

The response to his question is met with a demonic scream from down the hall and you can only assume that Motley was having a bad time as well.

“I’m not getting a surgery, you hear me Edward?” Wayne snaps, limping to the couch.

“What the fuck are you on now?” He snaps back, looking at him annoyed as Ziggy rushes past crying. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s apparently a meltdown day.” You sigh, moving to kiss his cheek and go into the kitchen to make a snack for yourself.

Todays pregnancy craving was potato chips with lime juice and pickles, Eddie watches from the entrance of the kitchen with a smile as you settle at the table and enjoy your snack.

He moves and takes the seat next to you, following your lead on snacks.

“Why is Metalhead in ‘rare fucking form’ today?” You giggle, watching his face pinch in annoyance.

“I pick her up and she gets in the car, right? And then she just starts screaming at me! And I mean screaming. The entire ride home! And from what I gather Vinny didn’t give her a valentines card.” He explains. “God. She was yelling like she was possessed. Then I tried explaining that maybe it was lost and that made it worse.”

“Did she get one from Troy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares either.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“Okay, we let her ride out the fit in her room. We’ll call Steve later to see what happened.”

“Sounds great to me.” He smiles. “She scared me a little. Threatened to cut her hair and everything. Then threatened to cut MY hair.”

A small laugh tears from you as he steals the potato chip in your hand before looking to Wayne’s direction. “They recommend surgery?”

“It wasn’t a recommendation.” You sigh, grabbing his hand and tracing the tattoo. “I think we need to move the house around.”

“What?”

“If Wayne gets surgery he needs to be here. I’ll cut back shifts at the diner and help him out.” You start. “He won’t be able to use the stairs so maybe we can move our room downstairs which would give more room for the twins cribs in our room, but Ziggy has problems with the stairs and she likes coming in to sleep with us cause of the nightmares but-“

“Easy. Easy.” Eddie mumbles, turning his hand up quickly to snatch your hand and pull it to his lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

And so you did.

Eddie moved the house around, and turned the basement into a bedroom for you guys. Now with more room and your own bathroom down here he could set up the cribs.

Wayne took your old room, and though the man threw a fit the girls got excited that Grandpa Wayne would be living here now.

He got the surgery in the beginning of March, and Motley and Vinny were still fighting.

You spent your days helping Wayne, taking him to pt and helping him move around the house.

Motley and Vinny got put into separate classes which lead to a whole argument between Steve and Eddie about whose kid was the one to blame.

Life was a bit of a mess.

It all came to head at the children's father dance.

Eddie had dressed in a tux, making sure he looked good as you got Motley ready for the night. With Wayne napping on the couch with Ziggy asleep on his chest drooling (a daily nap these two took) Zeppelin follows at your feet, keeping close to you as you did Motley's hair.

“How do I look?” Eddie asks from the door of the bathroom. “I have a date tonight and I’m really nervous.”

“Daddy!” Motley giggles, rushing to him in her puffy little skirt, hugging him tightly.

“Alright you two. Let me get a picture.” You smile, rushing past to find where the camera had gone. By the time you got a picture of them Motley was rushing Eddie out, ready for the dance.

He struggles to find parking, and ends up finding one right next to Steve’s car, rolling his eyes when he sees Harrington fixing his jacket while Vinny reads in the car.

“Harrington.” He greets coldly, fixing his leather jacket and moving to open the door for his daughter.

“Munson.” Steve matches the tone, scoffing at Eddie’s jacket. “Little Munson.”

“Uncle Steve.” She huffs, fixing her hair.

“Really? A leather jacket Edward?”

“You look like you stepped off a Queen music video, Steven.” Eddie snaps, holding out his hand for Motley. Fighting or not they wait at the front of the car for Steve and Vinny. Walking into the dance together.

“I’m surprised that they even let you in here. Your child is a danger to society.” Steve snaps as they wait in line for tickets.

“Let’s talk about your kid giving everyone but my sweet Angel a valentines card. That’s barbaric.” Eddie defends, watching Motley wave to her friends.

“He didn’t want to. And I don’t need to tell him what to do.” Steve blushes, turning to look at something to avoid looking at Eddie.

“There it is again. You’re acting so fucking suspicious about that card, man.” Eddie points at him, silver rings glinting in the light. “Tell me what you know.”

“Tickets?” The poor woman asks, interrupting their stand off.

“Yes please. Four.”

“No two. I’ll get my tickets.”

“No I’ll get them”

“You’re not buying me ,Steven.”

“He’s buying me.” Motley smiles, snatching the money from Steve’s hands and setting them on the table before grabbing two tickets. “Let’s go get some pop, daddy.”

Eddie can do nothing but follow, letting the little lady lead the way.

After about an hour of Motley showing him everything and introducing him to all her friends she abandoned him to hang out with some of the girls in her class, making sure Eddie was okay where he sat at an empty table nursing a can of soda.

It felt like high school again, watching the way all the other dads surrounded Harrington as the pta moms that decorated huddled together and giggled in the corner. At least the kids were having fun.

Eddie wished you were here, you would be sitting with him.

“Jesus. Gary never shuts up.” Steve mumbles, snapping Eddie out of his train of thought. “I got you a slice of pizza.”

He sets the slice down, giving Eddie a weird smile as he scarfs down his own slice. But eddie wasn’t very hungry, instead he surveyed to check on motley and see her giggling with all her friends as they dance in a circle.

“Your kid has been sitting alone, you gonna help?” Eddie asks, looking to where Vinny sits reading a book.

“I tried earlier. He just said something about me embarrassing him more.” Steve sighs. “Then complained that I ruin everything.”

“What happened? I’ve never seen him alone at a party.”

“Have I not told you? Your daughter is the popular one. They made her move classes and he was left in their old class struggling to make friends.” Steve mumbles.

“Why don’t you get one of the many dads following you around to get their kids over there? It feels like I’m in highschool again, waiting for your cronies to shove me in the bathrooms and lock me in again.”

“How long were you in that bathroom, again? Two hours?”

“Three.” Eddie sighs. “I smoked and set off an alarm so the principal found me.”

“Sorry.”

“Wasnt one of your worst. I was fine.” Eddie shrugs. “Sorry about Vinny.”

“I have faith.” Steve sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I also cannot believe I’m at a daddy daughter dance.”

“It’s a father kid dance?”

“They didn’t want the boys feeling left out.” Steve explains.

“I see.” Eddie smiles, picking at the pizza.

“He wrote one. You know?”

“Sorry?”

“Vinny wrote one. He wrote a valentine for Motley and got her a big chocolate bar. But a girl made fun of him in the parking lot and he panicked.” Steve explains. “Ripped it up and left the chocolate on my car to melt on the seats.”

“I can clean that.”

“You can?!”

“Oh yeah. I got you Harrington.” Eddie laughs right as another dad comes to the table.

“Howdy gentleman.” He smiles, sitting down. Eddie has to blink to recognize, holy shit that’s Tommy. “Oooo. I’m sitting at the hellfire table. So scary…”

“Do you have a kid here…?” Steve asks, blinking slowly.

“Yeah.” He slurs, pointing to the young kid stuffing his face with marshmallows. “You guys want some whiskey?”

“Jesus. I smell it from here man.” Steve snaps, standing up.

“I’m driving. Hard pass.” Eddie laughs, standing with Steve.

“It’s so weird to me that you two are friends! That shit is like….. mind flowing!”

“Blowing.” Steve corrects and Eddie sighs. “Damn it Harrington. It was a trap.”

“Blowing is more for you guys, if you know what I mean.” Tommy laughs and Eddie shakes his head.

“How did you fall for that Harrington? You made that line.” Eddie grumbles, moving to find Motley. “Hey Metalhead?”

“Yeah daddy?” She asks, coming up with her cheeks bright red from all the dancing.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, offering her a bite of his pizza before looking back over to Vinny. “Think you can go help him out?”

“Yeah. I guess.” She sighs, kissing his cheek and rushing to find Vinny and bring him out to dance.

By the end of the night Eddie has danced to about every little pop song she wants, and by the time he is bringing her to the car it’s more of a carrying her situation as Steve tries to trip Vinny up.

“Have a good night Harringtons.” Eddie laughs.

“Sleep tight Munsons.”

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Eddie asks, peering up at you over his book as you shuffle and pace around the room.

“Shut up.” You grunt, waving your hand at him. Your face is pinched up and Eddie finds himself sitting up and staring at you.

“What’s going on here?”

“Edward shut UP!” You snap, pacing back to the wall and holding your hands against it to try and breathe in. “Sorry. Sorry that was mean.”

“Are you in pain?” He mumbles, standing up and putting on his slippers.

It was your ninth month, and Eddie was anxious because he had never experienced the pregnancy part of it all before so every kick and movement made him worried.

“Eddie. Edward. Eds.” You grunt out, and right there something trickles down your leg.

“Did you just pee?”

“EDWARD!”

(Would you guys want me to keep going? I have more ideas {Especially Motley in high school} Feel free to message me if you want me to keep going or if you have any blurbs or requests for them in mind)

TAGLIST:: (Let me know if you want removed)

@mariamayhemrsmunson @bethanyzed @alyisdead

@caseyqdilla @zooboomanfu @avenjames-anderson @hazydespair

@bl1ssfulbaby @username199945 @costellation-hunter @vanessav03 @thehuntresswolf @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @jackiosstuff @mysticpeachobject @animechick555 @natie335 @localemofreak @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @dontcrydaddy

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fan #strange imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

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salty-croissants · 1 year ago

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Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon x reader : mistletoes

Woo , Christmas special baby !!

Since tomorrow I’m gonna be away to spend time with family , I figured it would be best to post this today since I’m gonna be way too tired to write when I get back :,)👍

I love the ideas of the boys and the reader being soft during the holidays , it just really brings me joy ^^

Anyway , I hope it turned out okay , and make sure to have a wonderful Christmas 🎄❣️

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ;

presence of slightly suggestive themes , but mostly lots of fluff ❤️

Bullfrog 💚

Let’s start by saying that given how constantly vigilant Bullfrog is , it won’t be easy to try to sneak a mistletoe above him :

he just has a way of knowing each and every one of your movements , so …

Yep , better get ready for a challenge .

< Hm ? Is that a mistletoe you’re holding , mon amour ? >

< Aw noo - I thought I got you this time ! >

He will probably apologize to you a lot for “ruining” your surprise , trying to make up for it with some extra affection and cuddles …

This frog is just an absolute sweetheart , and he’ll use any excuse he can use to show you just how much he loves you :,//)

< Honey , it’s okay , really ! You don’t have to feel bad about it !

I know you can’t help but be careful about what goes on around you , you’re being way too hard on yourself . >

< Heh , merci y/n … you always know what to say ~ >

When you eventually manage to lure Bullfrog in the living room and tell him to look up , you’ll find that all your careful planning was definitely worth it just to see that lovely smile on his face …

< Well , look at that … tu m'as surpris , y/n ~ >

Now come closer … it’s time I reward your hard work , ne penses tu pas ? ~ >

Honestly he’ll take any excuse to kiss you , but this occasion feel even more special … You went out of your way to prepare such an adorable surprise for him , so you better believe that you and Bullfrog won’t be leaving your spot under the mistletoe for quite some time ;//)

Rayman 🧡

Rayman is probably the most smooth and romantic man alive , so he will probably plan for a mistletoe surprise way ahead of you , from the very beginning of the holidays in fact .

Sometimes you can see him carrying Christmas lights around , and you can’t help but have the feeling that he has something in mind …

< Hold on , let me help you with that Ray … why do you need these many lights anyway ? >

< Ah , you’ll have to wait and see , honey : I think you’re gonna like it ~ >

If there is one thing that Rayman loves is creating atmosphere , so the night you eventually go back to his lounge to find it all decorated ( with also tons of gifts for you , cause let’s not forget how much this guy loves to spoil you ;//> ) , you can’t help but feel an overwhelming joy at the thought that he did all of this just to make you smile …

< Heh , I take it you like my little surprise , hm ? ~ >

< Like it ? I love it Ray , it’s amazing !

You’re such a sweetheart , thank you so much ~ >

< No need to thank me , it’s really the least I could do for you y/n !

Though if I were you , I’d take a look at the ceiling for a second … >

As soon as you look up and see a mistletoe hanging above the two of you , the way you blush in realization is enough to make Rayman’s heart skip a beat …

He just can’t get enough of how beautiful you look right now , your cute features illuminated by the lights he placed all over the room .

< Heh , I … wanted to make you a mistletoe surprise at some point too , but I think you’ve handled it way better than me , hun . >

< Don’t worry my love , there’s plenty of time for another one … I’ll gladly take any chances I can get to kiss you , so that’s definitely not a problem for me ~ >

His incredibly cheesy , adorable comment makes you chuckle , and when you lean forward to meet his lips you can hear Rayman sigh softly while kissing you back , almost like he had been looking forward to that moment all night …

You’re honestly anything he could ever ask for , and if he had the ability to stop time he would be more than happy to do it here under the mistletoe , alone with his beloved ❤️

Ramon 🖤

He isn’t … feeling very festive :

while he does his best to smile when he’s around you , Ramon’s mind is crowded with worries about Eden , about getting the both of you caught , but since you know him better than anyone you were quick to catch up to that .

< Hey , it’s okay if you don’t feel like doing much for the holidays , y’know ?

We can just stay here and relax . >

< Yeah , but … I don’t know , I would’ve liked to do something special for you , but we can’t go anywhere without risking to have those assholes notice us … >

< Ram , we don’t have to … the best gift I could’ve wished for is already here , right next to me , so please don’t worry about that , okay ? >

< Heh … that was very smooth y/n , not gonna lie ~

Seriously though , thank you … it means a lot . >

Despite what you told him , Ramon is still very determined to find a way to show you his appreciation for everything you’ve done for him , so the moment he finds a mistletoe hidden in a box an idea crosses his mind :

it may be small , but it might just work .

< Hey y/n ? Could you come here ? >

< Coming Ram ! Just give me a second , I was trying to see if we had enough ingredients to make some Christmas cookies … >

As soon as you reach the living room , you get the feeling that there is something different about it , even though you can’t exactly pin point what it is …

However , when you look up and see the mistletoe hanging on the ceiling you realize what’s going on .

< Aw , that’s so cute love ! I - mm — >

Before you can even finish your sentence , Ramon’s hands get a hold of you , gently pushing you down to lock your lips in a loving , passionate kiss …

You didn’t really expect that to happen , but you’re definitely not disappointed … not one bit .

< … here … take this as my gift for you , my love ~

I know it’s not much , but - >

< Ramon , sweetie … >

The moment your hand caresses his hair he immediately melts under your touch , his eyes never leaving yours as you smile tenderly at your boyfriend .

< It was perfect ~ >

That was the start of a night filled with displays of affection , and while holding you in his arms in your bed Ramon can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world , even though you’re both wanted by Eden’s police forces …

For once , those worries can’t seem to torment him , and he couldn’t be happier .

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #rayman #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #gender neutral reader #ramon captain laserhawk #cl rayman

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alatushours · 1 year ago

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☆ HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS, featuring xiao — he knew he would always have a home to come back to, as long as he was with you.

contents. fem reader, you and xiao are married <3 written from xiao’s pov, fluff + teensy bit angst tw. mentions of war, implied reincarnation of the reader, xiao having self deprecating thoughts but it's a happy ending ! ! ♡ word count. 1.2k.

notes. merry christmas, guys! here’s a little special something i wrote up for the occasion! i hope it reminds you all that it doesn’t matter where you spend your holidays, but rather who you spend it with is much more special <3

I MISS YOU.

the words play over and over in xiao’s mind as he successfully defeated another monster, planting his spear into the snow-frosted ground with a sigh.

he hadn’t seen you in months. he had read the letters that you sent him every week; your rambles about your day and the hearts you drew all over the paper always brought a smile to his face, but it was never the same as being with you.

now xiao could finally go back to you, but he didn't quite feel relieved. perhaps it was his karmic debt weighing down on him, but his mind was clouded with worry.

if only the war had ended sooner, then he would’ve been able to go back and spend your birthday with you. he had mailed a card with a preserved qingxin flower crown as a gift, but he knew it wasn't enough.

after all, he had spent every other one of your birthdays with you. through all the lives that you’ve spent together, he had never, ever missed your birthday.

until this one.

it had hurt xiao so much not be able to be there on your special day, and for a while he had doubted in his ability as your lover. how could he ever make you happy, if he wasn't even home to celebrate your birthday with you?

xiao shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. no, that’s not true. it’s my duty to protect liyue when it’s in danger. she knows that.

still, he wanted to make up for not being there with you.

you had told him once about a mortal holiday that was celebrated not just in liyue, but in the entirety of teyvat. christmas, he believed it was called. it was a celebration about giving gifts and spending time with family; something that he had not done in a long while, but hoped to do with you this time.

he didn’t know exactly when this christmas was celebrated, he knew that it was during winter; and the snow currently falling upon the liyue plains certainly meant that winter was here. perhaps… i hope it’s not too late.

xiao looked around, spotting the crystalflies that inhabited the area. an idea popped into his head. it might not be enough, but it’s something.

he got to work, collecting the crystals as well as some flowers and violetgrass stems that he’d found on the riverbank, blooming despite the cold.

he thought back to a more peaceful time, when you had taught him how to make flower crowns. you had laughed when he’d somehow managed to get a bunch of leaves stuck in his hair, and every time you pulled one out you’d give him a kiss.

xiao smiled at the memory. being away for so long truly made him miss spending time with you, his beloved. i just hope that she’ll still accept me.

before long, he had produced a circlet of crystals and flowers. i hope she likes it, he thought, standing up from where he sat in the snow. he looked up at the sky, the sun still high up. i should be able to make it back home before sunset.

then he looked down at the flower crown in his hands. where do i put this…?

he didn’t want to hold it, for fear that his blood-stained, war-heavy hands would ruin the precious gift. it wasn’t like he had a bag or any pockets to store it in, either. with a sigh, he had no choice but to place the circlet on his head.

y/n would laugh at me if she saw me wearing this willingly.

xiao made his way through the liyuan terrain, stopping occasionally to slay some monsters. as he walked, his mind started to go astray again. what if she doesn’t like my gift? what if she’s angry at me for not visiting her? what if… she doesn’t want to put up with me and my struggles anymore?

the sight of a familiar village up ahead made xiao snap out of his thoughts. don’t think about those things. i’m almost home, and y/n wouldn’t want me to come back full of negativity.

the sun was slowly starting to dip into the horizon. he swallowed, burying the doubts as deep as he could into the back of his mind. breathe.

the sound of children’s laughter filled his ears as he climbed the stairs towards the entrance of the village. an elderly woman sat on a bench near the gate, watching two young girls play around in the snow.

“excuse me, ma’am,” xiao started, lightly tapping the woman on her shoulder. “could you please tell me today’s date?”

the woman turned around, a warm smile on her face. “hello there, young man. you must be returning from the war, hm? well then, you’re just in time for the holiday celebrations. today is december 25th, christmas day.”

“i see…” it’s today? am i too late? “ahem. thank you, ma’am. if i may, would you happen to know if y/n l/n is at home today?”

“why, she is. i saw her leaving the market just a few minutes ago. she told me she was waiting for for her husband to arrive tonight, so she bought some ingredients for a meal.”

suddenly the woman smiled brighter. “well well, what a pleasant surprise. you must be the one she was waiting for, my dear. i suppose those flowers in your hair are for her?”

xiao was confused for a moment, then realized that he still had the flower crown atop his head. he removed it quickly, blushing. “i-i… yes, they are. thank you for informing me, ma’am. i’ll be on my way now.”

the lady patted him on the shoulder. “very well. good night, young man. happy holidays to you and your wife, now!”

xiao nodded and turned, making his way up the hill towards your house. his calm demeanor was contrary to his racing thoughts. y/n was waiting for me? how is she still so patient with me, even after so long of being away?

the sight of your quaint, peaceful cottage brought him to a stop. it was beautifully decorated, sparkling lights all on the roof and around the bushes. did she do all this by herself? she should have told me, then i could have helped her…

xiao approached the porch steps slowly, fidgeting with the flower crown in his hands. now that he was actually here, he had no idea what he was going to do. should he ring the doorbell? or should he just open the door? and what should he say when he sees you?

he stopped at the front door, in which a handmade holiday wreath hung. he took a deep breath. calm down. it’s okay.

heart racing, he knocked on the door.

nothing happened.

xiao’s shoulders slumped. is she not home? or… does she not want to see me anymore?

he sighed. i knew it…

but the sudden familiar cry of “welcome home, xiao!” as the door flew open and your arms around his waist was all it took for the doubts in his head to disappear.

home is where the heart is, he thought. home is where you are.

“yes, my love. i’m home.”

end notes. guys i promise after january 8th i won’t write as many xiao fics LMAO i just wanted to post this because he makes me so happy every day <3 i apologize if this isn’t as christmasy as you thought, but i do hope that you enjoyed! this might be the last writing post before 2024 so happy new year to everyone ! ! :)

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა mari writes !#xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao fluff

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headfullofpresley · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,5K

Summary: You and Elvis are always playing pranks on each other. This Halloween, you come up with a prank that goes horribly wrong as Elvis doesn't think it's so funny and gets genuinely upset. But like always, your partner eventually comes around and gets his revenge.

Warnings: strong language, playing with a ouija board, fake demonic possession, mentions of the devil, elvis being upset, elvis calling reader a bitch, pranks that you probs shouldn't use on other people, tiny bit of angst, reader and larry gellar disliking each other. guess that's it?

A/N: hello, hi! i guess this isn't really spooky but felt like it fit the season! there's pranks in this that i don't advise you to use on anyone unless that's you're kind of humor. wrote this in an hour or so because it randomly popped into my mind and well... i thought it was funny 👀. just want to make clear that this is in no way me making fun of elvis' spirituality in any way, nor is reader, if some people might think thatttt or if it comes across as that. just wanted to write something else rather than a vamp!elvis fic like my brain already was thinking about for halloween, AAAAH. also, this doesn't include all members of the mm or any of the other guys because i didn't know where to place them. okay, bye. p.s: be a smart cookie and don't use a ouija board.

Elvis didn’t care for Halloween.

Never did when he was young and never did as he was growing into an adult. Sure, when he was a little boy and his friends would drag him along to go trick or treating he could appreciate the free candy, but that was about it. After complaining about the people in scary costumes on the street when he was around 7, his mother stopped him from going out on All Hallow’s Eve and he appreciated her doing so.

As he got older, he’d usually be working on the last day of October and whenever he wasn’t, he would rent out the Memphian and watch horror movies with the guys, other friends and some of his fans. He enjoyed playing pranks and scaring the shit out of the people around him, but that’s where celebrating Halloween ended for Elvis.

His Christianity or beliefs didn’t have anything to do with it. He simply preferred holidays that involved lots of homecooked foods, spreading joy, giving gifts and being surrounded by his loved ones. Like Thanksgiving and especially, Christmas.

You on the other hand are obsessed with Halloween. You always put a lot of effort in your costumes and Elvis allowed you to put carved pumpkins by the front door with a lit candle inside of it, but he wouldn’t celebrate with you in any other way than watching movies. You were too old to go trick or treating, so you were happy when Lisa Marie was over at Graceland on some Halloween evenings to do so with her, but this year she unfortunately was in California with her mother.

This Halloween you put little effort into your costume, opting for a black cat suit with a tail, some drawn on whiskers that complimented the dark eye make-up you were sporting, and a pair of black cat ears. Elvis wasn’t complaining because you looked smoking hot in it, but he wasn’t aware that you chose this simple outfit because you had bigger plans for tonight that involved… well, let’s say, a lot of action.

After watching a few movies at the Memphian with Elvis, some fans and the guys, you all made it back to Graceland. It was only around 1 in the morning which was early for the bunch you were living with, so nobody was tired yet. Which was good, because you and Charlie Hodge had come up with the perfect prank to play on Elvis and the two of you managed to convince everyone to get involved in it.

The only one who wasn’t up for it was Larry Gellar and you were slightly worried that he’d out your little plan and ruin the whole thing. You were praying that he’d just go home already, but much to your chagrin, he was sitting on the couch and conversing with Elvis, not looking as if he’d leave any time soon. You were just going to have to risk it.

“Let’s play a game!” You chirped happily as you held up a plastic bag, pulling off your cat tail and throwing it by the side of the couch. “I found this today at the store. The sales girl told me it’s the perfect game to play during Halloween, because then you know it really works,”

Elvis watches with curiosity as you pull a large box out of the bag, turning it around and showing him the front. As he realises you were holding up a ouija board, he was immediately intrigued. Ever the curious person, especially when it came to things about spirituality, Elvis slides to the edge of the couch and takes the box out of your hands, opening the lid to take the board out and inspect it.

“Hell no, I ain’t playin’ that,” Lamar immediately says as he glances at the board and you try to suppress a grin. His reaction was the one you told him to give. If Lamar would play, Elvis was going to take the chance to tease the hell out of him for a week straight because Lamar scared easily when it came to these things.

“Ah c’mon, Fike. It’ll be fun,” Elvis grins as he places the board in the middle of the coffee table. You give Charlie a quick thumbs up and he grins, agreeing to play the game. Sonny and Red agree as well, but Larry decides to sit this one out. You were happy about that and as you go around the living room to dim the lights and light some candles, you feel instantly annoyed when you hear Larry’s voice.

“Elvis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Playing with an object like that can be dangerous, you know?” Larry chimes in, looking at Elvis with worried eyes. Never really having liked Larry, you roll your eyes. Elvis doesn’t see it but Red does and he sticks his finger in his mouth, feigning a gag. The two of you silently laugh and you sit down on the floor by the table, Elvis sliding onto the floor next to you.

“It’s not dangerous, baby. It’s just a game,” you quickly tell Elvis as Larry once more expresses his concern. Elvis looks at Larry once more before he turns to you and grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as he grabs the planchet and puts it on the board. Larry gives you an annoyed glare and you ignore it, happy that he decides to retreat back into the kitchen. Joe sits back on the couch along with Billy to watch the game unfold, simply because there wasn’t enough space for more fingers on the planchet.

“You sneaky sonofabitch. You’re the one movin’ that thing!” Elvis exclaims in slight annoyance as he glares at Sonny who sat on the opposite side of the table. Sonny widens his eyes, trying his best to hold back a laugh as he shakes his head.

“I swear to God, I ain’t doin’ it!”

You and Charlie exchange a knowing look. It was the two of you taking turns sneakily moving the planchet with the tips of your fingers, but Elvis didn’t notice a thing. He was too intrigued and focused on the words “it”, or in this case you, were spelling out. You hadn’t propeely opened communication or whatsoever, so the board wasn’t working at all. You believed that a ouija board could truly work if you wanted it to and you could communicate with… well, someone or something, but that wasn’t the intention for tonight.

You just wanted to play the prank of the century on your man like he has done to you so many times before.

All of you ask random questions at first that require simple answers. Then you decide to take matters further into your own hands and add up the dramatics a notch. You needed it to be spooky. Elvis doesn’t scare easily, the morgue trips he often makes with you were proof of that, and you want him to be terrified tonight.

“Someone dies tonight.”

All of you exchange uncomfortable glances, though only that of Elvis was real. He shifts a little on the floor and takes his finger off the planchet, accusing Charlie instead of Sonny now.

“Hodge, stop pullin’ my leg with this bullshit!” He huffs and Charlie widens his eyes, scared that you and him got caught, and just as he opens his mouth to defend his case, you speak up.

“Elvis! You’re not allowed to take your hands off of it without saying goodbye!” You grab his hand and bring it back to the board, putting his finger back on the planchet. He looks at you and scoffs, squinting his eyes.

“Oooh, I see. It’s you, ain’t it?”

You mentally curse yourself. Was your acting that bad? Shaking your head as you give him your most serious face, you tell him that it’s truly not you who is moving the planchet and before he can question you further, Charlie sneakily spells out something else.

“The girl.”

“That’s it. I ain’t playin’ no more. Say goodbye, goddamnit,” Elvis barks in annoyance. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but he truly believed the planchet was moving by itself and spelling out these things. He was having fun when they started and asked random and silly questions, but now it was getting a little too serious for him.

A little too scary.

This thing was threatening your life and he felt a sense of paranoia fill his chest. What if you’d really die because of this stupid game?

No. No, you weren’t going to die. It’s just a game. It’s not real- he refuses to believe it’s real.

You quickly say goodbye along with everyone else, moving the planchet over the word before taking your hands off. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh and wrap your arms around Elvis’ neck as he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms after he shoved the board across the table. You giggle softly and hug him, planting kisses on his cheek.

“Stop that worryin’. It’s just a game, El, nothing is going to happen.”

Although he doesn’t believe you and is still worried, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you back.

You spent the rest of the late evening playing some music and Elvis doing a spontaneous jam session, which got his mind off of that damned ouija board. After all, it was just a game. Nothing was going to happen and tomorrow afternoon, he’d wake up with you in his arms.

Alive and well.

But as you two got upstairs to his bedroom and got ready for bed, he wasn’t going to take no risks. There was a baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door and a hand gun laying atop of his Bible on the bedside table. You look at it as you got into bed where Elvis already was, sitting against the headboard with the TV on.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot a ghost?” You joke with a soft snort and he looks at you, simply nodding his head.

“Hell. I will if I have to,”

“My protector,” You swoon playfully as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing. He chuckles softly and sighs, kissing your lips before he allows you to settle in the bed. You pretend to watch some TV with him but couldn’t contain your excitement, curious to know what his reaction was going to be when the best part of the prank would play out.

Since you fell asleep pretty quick most of the time, Elvis didn’t think anything of it when he heard you lightly snoring as you had turned your back to him. He had his arm leaning across your hip, needing to touch you in one way or another, always. Unbeknown to him, you were wide awake and looking at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. You had told Charlie to give you twenty minutes before you’d set things into motion and as that amount of time had passed, you started off your little prank slow.

Ease Elvis into it, so to speak.

Pretending you were having a nightmare, you twitch lightly while mumbling some soft incoherent sentences, moaning uncomfortably. Elvis who was still wide awake moves his hand from your hip to your hair, caressing it soothingly as he sits up a little to look over at you. Figuring you’re still sleeping, he leans back against the headboard of the bed but only a split second later, you suddenly shoot up to sit in the bed. Startled, his heart skips a beat and he quickly sits up again too, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. He’s familiar with sleepwalking, but he has never seen you do it before. He knows not to wake someone when they’re in a state like this nor call out their name, but his worries grow by tenfold as your body slumps against him.

And then starts twitching and goddamn near convulsing as you throw your head back. He widens his eyes in shock as your eyes roll in the back of your head, your arms hanging limp by your side. Holding your frame, he tries to keep you still as he cups your face.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He slaps your cheek softly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. He curses loudly as he reaches over to the phone on the bedside table, putting it to his ear as he calls downstairs and yells to whoever is on the other end of the line to come upstairs.

Like clockwork, Charlie comes running in not much later and feignes a gasp at the sight of your state. Elvis looks over at him, desperate for help.

“Goddamnit, Charlie, do somethin’!” Elvis yells as your body seems to be twisting and turning into uncomfortable positions, arching your back as you let out deep groans and grunts. You didn’t even know your voice could get that low, but you were impressed by yourself.

An eerie feeling washes over Elvis and he slowly lets go of you as you push yourself out of arms, standing on top of the bed. And then you just start… laughing.

Like an absolute maniac.

The sound sent shivers down Elvis’ spine and he quickly got off the bed, standing next to Charlie as they both look at you, unsure of what was happening. Well, at least one of them. Charlie was completely sucked up into his role though and he took a step back, fear in his eyes.

He was a damn good actor.

Something clicked inside of Elvis’ brain as you look at him with a menacing look in your eyes, smirking like the Devil himself just walked into the room.

That goddamned board.

“Get my Bible,” Elvis orders Charlie, never taking his eyes off of you. Charlie does as he’s told and grasps the Bible from the bedside table, handing it to Elvis. The singer takes off the necklace he was wearing with a cross pendant hanging on the silver chain and hands it to Charlie, looking at the smaller male.

“Put this on her forehead,”

“Elvis...” Charlie widens his eyes, holding onto the necklace and pretending to be terrified of going near you. “Can’t we.. can’t we just call an ambulance?!”

Charlie was going to do whatever Elvis told him to do anyways because it makes the situation seem more natural but even if he wouldn’t be acting, the glare that Elvis gives him is enough to have him sprint into action. He runs over to the bed and pulls you down, keeping you down on the mattress as he presses the cross against your forehead. As you look at Charlie, you have to try your damnest not to ruin things and laugh, but luckily you manage to stay in your role.

Writhing on the bed and trying to get out of Charlie’s grip with what truly is little effort but looks like a lot, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Elvis comes closer to the bed while he is quickly reciting any kind of prayer he thinks might work, reading psalm after psalm. He’s taken back for a second when you did what Charlie and you rehearsed- kicking the brunette off of you and making him land on the floor. You swear you could hear Charlie chuckling, but Elvis is only focused on you.

Now you are the one that is taken back as he gets on top of you and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head as he’s still reciting prayers. He’s yelling at the non existent demon inside of you to get the hell out and Charlie has to muffle a laugh in the palm of his hand, curious about what you were going to do because neither of you expected this.

You felt a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat, so before it could come out, you stop writhing on the bed and drop your head to the side, pretending that the prayers worked and it has all come to an end. Elvis sat on top of you for a few more minutes until he releases your hands and gets up, closing his Bible. He watches you, ready to once more go into action as he sees you casually sit up and get up from the bed. He frowns a little as you walk over to Charlie and hook your arm through his, clearing your throat.

“The end.” You and Charlie gracefully bow, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

Until you notice one person in the room isn’t laughing.

Feeling the mood shifting in the room and as if a thunderstorm just passed over Graceland, you stop laughing as you see Elvis glaring at the both of you. You walk over to him as he throws his Bible on the bed and cup his face, but he’s quick to swat your hands away and get back into his bed.

“Elvis, c’mon. Don’t be mad, baby. We were just having a little fun,” you laugh softly, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes icy cold. You weren’t unfamiliar with that look but usually it was something more serious that brought it on and you never liked it.

But what you weren’t realising is that this was serious to Elvis. He thought he was going to lose you to some freaky demonic entity.

“Get out.” He simply states in a low voice, turning his head back to the TV that was still on. You look at Charlie and he gives you a little nod, taking you out of the room with him.

You succeeded in pranking the prank master, but you’re afraid you pushed him too far and that simply wasn’t worth it.

You figured Elvis would be over it by the day after Halloween and things would go back to normal. But then again, you know Elvis like the back of your hand and although you were not surprised by him ignoring you for a week straight, you were still hurt.

When he learned that all of the guys were involved in your little prank, he let them have a piece of his mind and that was that. But you were walking on eggshells. He even made you sleep in Lisa Marie’s bedroom for that entire week.

By Sunday night, you were fed up with it. Maybe you had taken things too far, but it was just idiotic that he wouldn’t even let you sleep in the same bed as him.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He snaps as he watches you burst into the bedroom and get into the bed next to him, fluffing your pillow.

“What does it look like?” Maybe you don’t have the right to be annoyed with him, but you are. He knows how much you hate to be ignored and you’ve been worrying yourself all week with all sorts of doom scenarios, like him ending the relationship.

He grabs your arm to pull you out of bed but you sit up and pull your arm out of his grasp, the words flying rapidly off your tongue. “Good God, Elvis. I’ve told you I’m sorry about a thousand times, but you don’t wanna hear it! You haven’t spoken a word to me in a week. At least yell at me, be angry with me, do something!”

His nostrils flare as his jaw clenches and he sits up more straight, turning his body into your direction.

“You want me to yell? Be angry? Fine!” He barks harshly, his loud rich voice booming off the walls. “I thought I was gon’ fuckin’ lose you that damn night! I thought you really were gon’ die, Y/N. That there was some sonofabitch inside of ya who was takin’ ya away from me. If you think that’s so hilarious, well hell, then you really are an evil bitch,”

You weren’t hurt by him calling you a bitch. You and Elvis fought enough times in the past that involved ugly name calling but you always made up minutes later. It never lasted for days. But learning that he was truly afraid of losing you in that moment causes your heart to clench uncomfortably in your chest. You feel a pang of guilt in your gut and your shoulders slump, tears burning in your eyes as you could see a tear rolling down Elvis’ cheek. He quickly wipes it away and looks at the TV set, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Elvis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” You exclaim breathlessly as you crawl closer to him and hide your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His body tenses up but then he quickly relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around your frame, placing one hand on the back of your head to press you firmer against him. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, I really didn’t. I just thought it would be a fun prank for Halloween. I never thought it’d turn out like this.”

It was never your intention to truly hurt Elvis or emotionally scare him. Deep down inside, Elvis knows this and he feels a little guilty about giving you the cold shoulder for a week, but he doesn’t feel the need to apologize to you for that. Instead, he accepts your apology with a long tender kiss and then cups your cheeks as he looks into your eyes.

“You can prank me, baby, jus’… no more pranks like that, okay?” He whispers as he brushes some hair out of your face, thumbing a tear away from the corner of your eye. You nod, promising him that you’ll never do something like this again and keep it at small pranks only.

That same night, you and Elvis stand outside at the back of Graceland, watching the ouija board melt into mush in the firepit.

He wasn’t going to take any chances and forbids you to play with a board like that for the rest of your life. You have no problem promising him that you will never touch another ouija board again and content with your answer, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks at the flames.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Little,” he whispers as he presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before he kisses your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold him close as you nod, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t lose ya. Ever.”

“I promise, Elvis,” you say as you raise your head and look up at him, kissing his chin. “You’ll never lose me. Even the Devil can’t take me away from you.”

He grins at your words and pecks your lips, but then he pulls his head back and looks past you, frowning. Curious, you look over your shoulder and a hot feeling of fear immediately spreads throughout your chest, widening your eyes as you see two man wearing scary wolf masks stalking toward you and Elvis.

It was only you and your boyfriend at the house tonight, but still when one of the men grabs you and a few others that came from the other side of the premises grab Elvis, you scream at the top of your lungs for help. It doesn’t do much and your vision is taken from you as you’re being blindfolded, a hand being placed firmly over your mouth.

You were thrown in the back of a car and after driving for what felt like hours, you were being lifted out of the car. You couldn’t speak as one of the men had shoved what you guessed was a tie in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop cussing at them in the back of the car. You were surprised they hadn’t knocked you unconscious yet.

You were terrified of what was to come, but more so you were worried sick about Elvis. The last thing you had seen were a couple of masked maniacs overpowering him and dragging him away. Having no idea where he was or if he was even still alive, you were determined to break free and get out of where ever you were.

You needed to get to Elvis. The thought of never seeing him again made your head spin, feeling like you were about to either faint or be ill.

Despite your inner turmoil, you didn’t stop fighting your kidnappers. Not even as you were being placed on a chair, your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. As the fabric was pulled out of your mouth, you were about to scream again until your blindfold was taken off. As your eyes adjust to your surroundings, you widen your eyes when you see Elvis and the Memphis Mafia standing in front of you, all wearing shit eating grins.

You realise you’re sitting in the pool room.

The guys all burst out into rumbling laughter, Elvis included, and he bends down to be at your eye level, his hands placed on his knees as he grins.

“Honey, I’m gon’ say this once and for all,” he bites his lip as he laughs, that mischievous little boy gleam in his eyes. “Don’t prank the master.”

You sarcastically laugh along with him as he unties you, glaring at Lamar who was having an uncontrollable fit of giggles when he tells you you should’ve seen yourself when him and Sonny were driving you around the block to make you think you were being taken somewhere else.

You stand up from the chair as Elvis has let you free and grab a poolstick from the wall. Red snickers.

“We should probably start runnin’ now, huh?”

“Yup.” Elvis smirks, popping the ‘P’ as he shoves the guys out of the way and starts making a run for it. You were immediately hot on all of their heels, your main suspect being Elvis, as you yell profanities at them while trying not to laugh.

Both you and Elvis know that this was only the start of what would become a very, very long prank war and you’re determined to take his title away from him, although you doubted you’d succeed at that.

As long as it didn’t involve ouija boards and any kind of demonic possession, Elvis was ready for whatever you had planned for him. But just to be absolutely sure, he made a mental reminder to have Lisa Marie stay at Graceland for Halloween next year so he could benefit of the free candy and admire your matching costumes with his daughter rather than thinking he was going to have to give you up to the Devil.

Because one way or another, he would shoot the sonofabitch.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997 @raginginkedslut @joshuntildawn13 @claire-elvisgirl

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis prompt #elvis presley prompt #elvis headcanons #elvis presley headcanons #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis halloween #elvis fans #tamwrites

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years ago

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❄️HOME THIS CHRISTMAS❄️

A/N: hope you uys have been having an amazing christmas so far! for this fic i want to say special thanks to @futurecherry !

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

SUMMARY: Harry Styles is back in town and all eyes are on the two of you, because everyone knows how much he broke your heart when he left.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

You always thought the saying ‘talk of the town’ wasn’t real, not in the way movies loved to portray. The whispers behind someone’s back, the stares, the looks, it all seemed way too dramatic to be real. Right until you became the person it happened to.

December is by far your favorite time of the year. You hate to be a cliché, but it truly is the most wonderful time of the year. The town turns into a cozy winter wonderland, every shop and home is decorated, lights are guiding the way through the streets you know better than the back of your hand, the smell of mulled wine and hot chocolate puts a spell on you every time you walk past the square in front of the town hall, there is nothing that could ruin this time of the year for you.

Or so you thought. Because the returning of Harry Styles just made you the talk of the town and ruined the festive mood for sure.

Who would want to step out of the house just to see everyone looking at them with pitiful looks, whispering about the poor girl who now has to face the guy who broke her heart? No, that’s not even expressive enough to describe what Harry did to you when he left town five years ago, never even looking back to see the mess he left behind him.

Word spread across town fast when he was first spot at his mother’s house, picking up some old stuff of his. Mrs. Cromwell saw him through her kitchen window. She phoned Mrs. Adler who was just about to leave to the grocery store. She told the news to everyone she ran into and in a matter of hours everyone in town knew that Harry was back.

Including you.

It’s been a week since the first sighting and your life has turned upside down since then. Everyone wants to know what you think about his return, how you’re doing now that you can practically run into him anywhere and anytime.

Well, you’re already over that.

The first meeting went just as awkward as one would expect. He came into your bakery on a Tuesday afternoon, you were shocked to be face-to-face with him at first and he seemed just as speechless as he stared back at you while everyone else around you were dying for the scene to unfold.

When the two of you recovered, the conversation went something like this:

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve moved back.”

“No, what are you doing in my bakery?”

“I came to see you.”

“But I don’t want to see you.”

“Can we talk? Please?”

“No.”

And with that, you rushed back and locked yourself into the closet sized office for an entire hour. He was gone by that and so you ignored the curious stare of your employees and carried on like nothing happened.

Since then, you’ve been avoiding him at all cost and you realized you can do that the best if you just never go anywhere. His return is nerve wrecking enough already, but he has managed to ruin your favorite time of the year for you too. You can’t enjoy the Christmas market, the decoration, the festive vibes because every time you step out you’re afraid you might run into him again.

You’re convinced you wouldn’t survive it.

Looking at him last time was painful enough, mostly because you clearly see the version of him you were in love with and who broke your heart and left without looking back. You could notice the changes on him, his hair, his face, it wasn’t the same and yet… you were still stuck in the past.

There’s just way too much hurt in you after what happened, lots of questions and even more anger towards him that you’ve kept bottled up all these years and you fear you might snap if you have to face him again.

“Are you gonna hide in the back today as well?”

Willa, your student cashier gives you a look as you walk past her when you finally arrive in the afternoon. She’s been working for you for almost a year, she’s trust-worthy and very hard-working, but she also has a tendency to speak her mind quite openly. She is never afraid to call you out when you’re acting ridiculously.

“I’m not hiding,” you hiss at her. “I have… some billing… stuff to do,” you mumble and you wonder how you got to the point where a seventeen years old girl is telling you off when you were supposed to be her boss.

“Whatever you say, boss,” she shrugs as an elderly woman walks in and she busies herself with serving her.

“Kids these days…” you mutter under your breath before locking yourself up in your office.

Running your own business luckily usually has your hands full when you’re at the bakery, so you forget about Harry’s existence as you dive right into work. Unfortunately, it seems like today won’t be the day when you can escape through work.

“Boss?” Willa appears at the backdoor right after you finished a call with one of your suppliers.

“What’s up?” you smile at her, but then see the worried look on her face and you just know already what this is about. “Don’t say—“

“He’s here. Asking for you.”

“Damn it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Tell him I’m not here.”

“That’s not gonna work.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already told him you’re here.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Okay, then tell him—“

“Or maybe you could just talk to him.”

Harry’s voice startles you. You both look at him, he’s standing a few feet away from you and you feel heat rushing through your veins, which is kind of useful since you’re not wearing a coat and it’s quite freezing out here.

“I’ll be… in my spot,” you hear Willa say before rushing back inside, leaving you alone.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really busy and whatever you want—“

“I want to talk, Y/N. You can’t just avoid me forever, I live here now.”

“The town is not that small, we can just live next to each other without crossing paths.” You turn to head back inside, but he grabs your hand and pulls you back, the sudden touch of his hand on your skin sending jolts of electricity through your whole body. You yank it back as you turn to face him.

“Y/N, don’t you think we should at least just talk it over?”

“You wanna talk? You wanna talk about how you fucked me over? How you broke my heart and left me when I needed you the most? How you said you’d love me forever, but you didn’t even love me enough to stay when I put all my money into starting a business and a life here?”

“Y/N—“

“I never wanted to do it alone! I explicitly told you that I don’t want to go into it on my own and you said you’d be here and that we could do it together. And then you lost your mind, said you can’t handle being tied down here and that you needed freedom. You threw me away like you didn’t promise me forever a million times before. So you want to talk about that?”

Your sudden outburst is a surprise to the both of you, but it also feels liberating to unload it all.

“I think we are way past the talking phase, Harry. You wanted to leave, me and the town, whatever! You can do whatever you want even if it destroys other people. But don’t be surprised when said people don’t want you in their life.”

This time he doesn’t try to stop you when you storm back inside. He doesn’t come after you either.

You think about your encounter nonstop for the next few days. He is all you think about and you hate him for that. You also ponder whether you were way too harsh with him or not, but you always get to the same conclusion. Your words do not compare to the pain he caused you when he left.

The twenty-third is the last day the bakery is open, but seeing the heavy snowing in the morning you ring in to tell the shift that you’ll be in soon and they can leave early, have the rest of the day off. It’s a little past ten when you arrive, you help them close and prepare the place for the few days off. You stay after everyone is gone, doing some last minute paperwork and barely even notice how time flew by.

And how much snow has fallen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath when you see the whole street covered in inches of fresh, white snow and it’s still heavily falling. The wind has picked up too, it might soon turn into a whole storm so you better get going.

You parked down in front of the bakery, so you easily get in, but as you try to start the car, it refuses to do anything.

“Come on, come on!” you groan, turning the key in the ignition over and over again, but it wouldn’t start. You’re forced to walk home, which means about 45 minutes out in this weather.

You zip up your jacket, pull your hat on and brace yourself for freezing to death before getting out of the car and you just start walking, hoping for the best. The first few steps are not that bad, you let yourself believe you’ll be home in no time, but by the time you reach the corner, you’re thinking about just turning back and waiting for the end of the snowing in the bakery. You’re eyes are watering up, but the cold wind is practically freezing it onto your cheeks. There’s snow everywhere, your feet are slipping on the ice underneath the fresh snow and you know it’s just a matter of time until you land on your ass.

And then a car pulls up beside you.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?” Harry calls out over the passenger seat.

“Having a grill party, what do you think?” you scoff, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “My car died.”

“Get in, you’re gonna get pneumonia!”

“No thank you, I’m totally fine!” you stubbornly say and start walking again.

“Y/N, please! I’m not letting you walk home, you’ll never make it on foot!” He drives slowly beside you as a harsh wind blows right into your face, almost pushing you off your feet. “Just get in the car!”

You clench your jaw as you think about your choices: freezing to death on your way home or spending a few minutes in a car with Harry to get home safely. It’s a hard one.

“No talking, okay?” you say as you get in his car, the warmed up seat immediately melting up your frozen muscles.

“Okay,” he nods as he starts driving, but the silence lasts for about five minutes. “You really thought it was a good idea to walk home in this weather?”

“Where’s the no talking?”

“I’m sorry, but you just… You’ve always been so stubborn, it’s good to know you’re the same,” he chuckles softly, but it just gets your blood boiling.

“I’m not the same and you know nothing about my stubbornness. Now would you just drive me home and not talk to me like you promised? Though promises don’t mean shit to you, that I know.”

Your words cut like a knife, but at least he goes silent. Staring out the window you watch the snow fall, it’s unusually thick, you haven’t seen anything like this in years around here. It mesmerizes you so much you don’t even notice where you’re going, only when Harry kills the engine and you see an unknown building instead of your home.

“What? Where are we?” you ask, looking around, trying to see what part of town you’re at but you can’t make out because of the snow.

“My place,” he answers.

“Why? I don’t live here, take me home!”

“Y/N, your home is another at least fifteen minute drive from here, but I can barely see the front of the car in the snow. Just wait it out at mine and then I’ll take you home.”

“Hell no! I’m not waiting for anything!” you protest.

“I bet Clement Road is already blocked, we wouldn’t even make it to your place!”

“You planned this whole thing out, didn’t you?”

“What?” he chuckles in disbelief. “Oh yes, I ordered the snowstorm and killed your car too.”

“Wait, you did?” your eyes widen. “I-I mean the car, did you do it?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, I did not!” he throws his hands into the air. “I did not mess with your car, I was coming from my grandma when I saw you. Now please just be rational for a minute and wait until the snow stops. I promise, I will take you home as soon as the roads are drivable.”

You hate to admit that he is right, that it’s your only and best choice if you don’t want to walk home and freeze to death. So, true to your stubborn self you get out of the car without a word and march up to the front door of the house he parked in front of. Moments later you hear him get out of the car too.

“The no talking rule still applies,” you mumble under your breath as Harry keys the two of you into the townhouse. He nods, pushing the door open and lets you go inside first.

It hasn’t processed that you’re now entering his private space, a place that’s his home, but you’ve never been to. He was still living with his mum when the two of you dated, you knew that house like the back of your hand, it was a second home to you. You haven’t been there since the breakup.

“How wet are you?” he asks and your eyes snap wide.

“What?”

“Your clothes,” he adds with a cheeky smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “How wet did they get? Do you want a change?”

“Um… My pants are kinda saggy. And my socks.”

“I’ll get you a full change. Make yourself home,” he says, before disappearing down the hallway.

For a few seconds you don’t move, feeling odd to be here, but when you recover, you wander into the living room that’s on the right from the front door, looking around curiously.

He still hasn’t packed out fully, there are a few boxes lying here and there, but the place looks cozy already and most importantly a lot like him. You see pieces of him everywhere, decors and furniture that just screams Harry, or at least the Harry you know from years ago.

He returns with a pile of clothes in his hands and he has already changed as well into sweatpants and a shirt.

“Here, the bathroom is on the left, throw your wet clothes into the dryer. I’ll make us hot tea.”

He hands you over the clothes and his signature smell hits your nose right away, nostalgia washing over you as you nod hazily and leave to the bathroom. You strip out of your wet clothes and put on the sweatpants and shirt he gave you and suddenly you’re back in time when you used to spend days without end at Harry’s and you had to wear his clothes because you’ve run out of yours. You loved stealing his hoodies and shirts, they felt like his warm embrace, but now… it confuses you.

Walking out you hear him on the phone and judging from the conversation, it’s probably Anne. He has put the kettle on, two mugs set on the kitchen counter as he stands by the window, staring out while talking to his mother. You don’t want to invade on the private conversation, so you return to the living room and snoop around a bit.

What caught your attention first thing when you walked in is the fireplace. He used to tell you about how much he wanted one so he could drink tea and read in front of it. You wonder if it’s what sold him the place when he was looking around.

On top of the fireplace there are a bunch of memorabilia, picture frames, gifts he has gotten over the years. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but as you scan over it, you find more and more things that are connected to you.

First there’s a candle you bought for him after a fight as your peace offer. Then there’s a photo framed from Anne’s birthday, it’s got her, Harry, Gemma and you on it. The more photos you look at, the more you’re met with yourself. You would have never expected him to showcase any pictures that has you in it, but he clearly doesn’t mind looking at you every day. Reaching into the little wooden box that sits on the left edge of the fireplace, you find movie and theater tickets, most of them he used with you on dates. He has a whole stack, probably with every movie and play you two have seen and there are a lot.

“I kept them all.”

His voice startles you, you were so busy snooping around you didn’t notice he finished his call. Shutting the lid of the box you turn around and fold your arms over your chest to stop you from touching anything.

“Why?” you question.

“Because they are memories. Good ones.”

He sets down two mugs on the coffee table, hot tea steaming from them, but they get ignored as he walks up to you and grabs the box. Digging into the tickets he grabs one and hands it over to you.

“Do you remember this?”

Taking the piece of paper you look at the title. It’s from the old cinema in town you used to go to almost every month. They always had some of the old gems playing and you loved having the experience of being in the movies, watching a film that can’t be seen elsewhere.

This particular ticket was for The Breakfast Club, one of your biggest favorites. You missed the few times they played it in the theater and you were bummed. So Harry got them to add one more date, on your birthday. It was the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you and you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t fills your chest with warmth.

It’s a happy memory you share with him.

“I remember it. Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat as you hand the ticket back, knowing you have it saved at home too.

“You’ve seen that movie so many times, you were mumbling the lines next to me,” he chuckles, as he places the box back.

“Why do you have all these?”

“Told you, they are good memories,” he shrugs, ignoring what you really meant by your question.

“You shouldn’t be holding onto them,” you shake your head, taking a few steps away from him to put some distance between the two of you.

“Why?”

“Because you left me,” you snap at him. “These memories weren’t good enough for you to keep you here. With me.”

Spite is dripping from your words, words you’ve been meaning to get off your chest, but you kept them buried deep inside you.

“Y/N, I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to be with you or because I wasn’t happy.”

“Oh, so you just woke up one day and decided you had better things to do?” you scoff.

“Jesus, would you stop belittling our relationship and my feelings for you?”

“Feelings?” you can’t stop yourself from laughing. “What feelings did you have that made you leave me, huh?”

Whenever you thought of having this conversation with Harry you imagined yourself staying calm and collected, not letting him show how much he hurt you, but you’re more like a deranged mess.

“I panicked, Y/N, okay? I was… I was young and for a moment I felt like I was running out of time. I was wrong, but by the time I realized, it was too late.”

“Trapped? You felt trapped in our relationship? Well, that’s just great to know.”

“I had no reason to feel like that, it was a momentary craziness. Have you not gone through that? Have you never questioned your decisions before?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t move across the country or left behind the people I said I love.” It’s a hit below belt, but you can’t help it.

“I made mistakes, I’m human! But I’m here to make things right!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m here to earn your forgiveness. I hurt you, caused you a lot of pain and I want to make up for that.”

“That’s very noble, but I’m not a partner in that.”

“I’m not asking you to take me back, I know I fucked up big time. I’m just trying to do the right thing and earn your forgiveness.”

“Stop saying that!” you growl.

“What?”

“That you want to earn my forgiveness!”

“But it’s the truth!”

“You wouldn’t need my forgiveness if you loved me enough to stay!”

“Would you stop refuting my feelings?!”

“Don’t lecture me about your feelings! I’m only seeing the facts, that you didn’t love me enough not to leave! So if you want to get me to believe you still love me and want me back, I can assure you, it’s not enough now! You left me when we had so much at stake, when I spent all my money on a business we were supposed to start together! I was all alone, I lost my lover, I lost my faith in a future we planned together! If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that!”

“You think I don’t love you?” he raises his voice, clearly short on his patience as well.

“Oh, I know you don’t!” you scream at him.

For a few heartbeats he just stares at you and you have no idea where this is about to go. Then, without a word he storms back into his bedroom and you stand there, stunned with your chest heaving.

When he appears a few moments later he is carrying a big cartboard box. He throws it to the floor in front of you and opening he reveals a big collection of… everything that has anything to do with you.

“I kept every tiny thing that reminds me of you. Everything! All of our polaroids!” He grabs the dozens of photos the two of you took over the years and throws up into the air like confetti. “I have every gift you gave me, every clothes you got me, everything!”

He keeps throwing things out, laying them in front of your feet as you stare at him with your lips parted.

“These,” he continues, holding up a stack of papers, “are letters I wrote to you since I left. Over eighty letters, Y/N! Every time I wanted to run back to you begging for you to take me back, I remembered that you probably hate me, so I wrote you letters I never sent!”

He throws the letters into the air too and you watch them fly around in the room as Harry stands up.

“Wanna know why I still have these? Why I’m here? Why I came back? The only fucking reason I came back?”

Blinking you feel a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Why?” you whisper.

“Because I love you! I never fucking stopped loving you, Y/N!” he screams at you and this time you. “And if I have to spend the rest of my life paying for what I did to you, I will fucking do it, because you’re my everything and I would rather atone forever than live a moment knowing I didn’t try everything to make up for what I did!”

He’s breathing heavily and so are you. The intensity of the moment is swallowing you in whole and you feel like you could just collapse any moment. His confession has broken everything you’ve built up in you in the past years and now as you stare back at him, you go fully blank before…

You move before you could even think and Harry mirrors you the same moment, the two of you meet halfway and unite in hard, demanding kiss you’ve fantasized about so many times, beating yourself up about it.

You lose every ounce of self-control, you both do. Everything you do is so primal, just wanting to fulfill this burning need inside you for each other. You push against Harry, fingers grabbing onto his hair hard while his hands dig into your waist, he is making you walk backwards, stumbling and stepping on his letters and polaroids, but nothing matters.

It’s tug of war as you head to the bedroom without stopping the hungry, almost violent kissing and you tear your clothes off of each other as if they were poisonous. When he presses you against the wall at one point, pushing his erection against you, a loud cry bursts out of you, grabbing onto him even more desperately.

By the time he throws you onto the mattress you’re naked and he’s ridding himself of his last piece of clothing. You moan as you see his hard cock springing free, begging to be buried in you finally. He climbs on top of you and the weight of his body presses you into the mattress heavenly. You don’t even notice that you’ve started crying as you cling onto him as if your life depended on it.

He stops for a moment, brushing the tears off of your face.

“Hey,” he softly says, kissing the corner of your mouth and lifting himself up. “We don’t have to do this if you—“

“Please!” you gasp, pulling him back. “Please stay here,” you beg, linking your arms behind his head to keep him as close as possible. “Please stay here,” you repeat and you both know your words have a meaning beyond just wanting to keep him in your embrace in this moment.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever,” he assures before thrusting into you. “I’m yours forever.”

Harry seems to be asleep beside you when you finally decide to get out of bed and get yourself a glass of water. He stirs gently when the mattress moves underneath you, but doesn’t open his eyes. Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen and grab his shirt from the floor, pulling it on. You grab a glass and fill with tap water and stare out the window while sipping on it.

The storm has stopped, everything is covered in fresh, thick snow, right in time so you’ll have a white Christmas.

You repeat what happened tonight over and over again, trying to figure out how you truly feel about it. When you had Harry pressed up against you, you clearly wanted him in any and every way possible, but now that the lust as died down, momentarily, you’re finally using your brain to think.

You might have jumped at him too fast, it doesn’t mean that everything is smoothed out and there are no hard feelings. There are still questions and fears in you that you won’t be able to bottle up anymore.

“Everything alright?”

Harry’s voice startles you again and as you turn around you see him padding closer to you, wearing his sweatpants and a sleepy look on his face. He stops a few feet away from you, assessing your expression and he sees you the worry etched onto your face.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” he whispers, taking your face in his hands and you hold onto his wrists.

“We got a little carried away.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks and you can see panic rising in him.

“No,” you say without hesitation. “But… I can’t do this if you’re gonna leave again.”

Tears dwell in your eyes. You’re not angry anymore, but scared, that you’ll get hurt again, because you fear you wouldn’t survive it.

“I meant what I said, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to leave. I’m never making the same mistake again, I paid for it too.” Leaning down he kisses you softly, painting his promise onto your lips. “I promised myself I would be home this Christmas. But it’s not the town. You’re my home.”

You breathe in his words, let the relief settle in your chest as you nod and rest your forehead against his. Minutes pass by and he just holds you, ensures you silently that you’re not about to make a mistake by starting over with him.

“You must have heard how popular the bakery got, huh?” you joke with a chuckle.

“Ah, absolutely,” he grins, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I’m not letting you get into the business though.”

“So I can’t be a kept man? Damn it!” he laughs and you giggle against his neck. “I’ll prove you that it’s not a mistake, okay? I’ll earn your trust back.”

“Okay,” you whisper with a nod.

“Come on, let’s get back to bed. We can talk more in the morning.”

You follow him back into the bedroom and you gladly settle in his embrace, cocooned in his arms, knowing that this Christmas you’ll be home too.

Harry’s arms are clinging onto you when you slowly wake in the morning. His hands have sneaked underneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms coating your naked skin underneath the layers.

He has always been a clingy sleeper, you learnt that early in your relationship. All those mornings you spent tangled up in each other, soft, lazy kisses, Harry’s hands all over you, because he could never get enough of you.

“I love you, my Y/N.”

“My sweet love, good morning.”

“So soft, so warm, all mine.”

He was always the sweetest in the morning. And he was the same the day he decided to leave. You felt his touch on your waist, stomach and chest, he hugged you tight, his body pressed up against yours in bed as the morning sunshine beamed through the window. It was like every other morning, only that he didn’t go to bed with you that day.

You stretch blindly, enjoying the feeling of Harry wrapped around you, but slowly, you feel like you’re tossed back in time to the day he left, reliving the possibly worst day of your life.

“Mm, morning,” Harry murmurs behind you, his lips pressing to your shoulder before he gently turns you in his arms and he kisses your pouty lips once. Twice. But before he could go for a third one, he realizes something is off. “Babe?”

“I’m… S-sorry, I just…” you sit up in bed, looking around, taking in your surroundings as sleep wears off of your eyes. You’re in Harry’s bedroom at his new place, yet you still feel like you’re in the past, stuck with the version of Harry that will leave you. Again.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just breathe for me.” He gently rubs your back as your breaths are rapidly heaving through your chest. “It’s alright, baby.”

“Are you gonna leave?”

The words roll down your tongue before you could even think twice and you want to take them back, afraid that they might hurt him, but they also root from your fears you’re still struggling with.

Harry stares back at you for a moment and you expect him to walk out on you, but it never happens. Instead, he cups your face in his hand and leaning closer he brushes his lips softly against yours.

“I’m not leaving, Y/N. Never. I know it’s hard to see anything other than the past, but I will work hard to change that.”

“It’s just… so many things remind me of what was before,” you whisper, almost embarrassed, but you just can’t help this feeling that keeps crawling up your spine, into your mind.

“I know. It’s okay, I don’t expect you to change so fast, I know I have to work for it and we’ll get there, to the point where I earn your trust back. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” you coo and crawl to his lap, letting him wrap in his embrace as he lies back in bed, pulling you with him.

“Do you remember how we used to spend Christmas?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We got a Christmas tree together just before Christmas, made gingerbread house and exchanged gifts on the twenty-fourth, because we were too excited to wait till the morning,” you say with a tiny chuckle.

“What if we did everything different from now on? Make new traditions?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, we could decorate the tree earlier, look for a different recipe to bake and wait till the morning with the gifts.”

“We could attempt to wait… But we might fail.”

A laugh rumbles through Harry’s chest from where you lift your head to look at him.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Don’t be. Just let me be there for you when it happens.”

“Okay,” you whisper and push yourself up so your lips could meet his and this time, it finally feels new. It’s your fresh start.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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