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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

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Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

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Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

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You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

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By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

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You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

#A Rose Under the Moon #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #soulmate au

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lambilegs · 2 months ago

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hi favie.. i’m like.. really bored and wanna request something.. maybe like 😁 late nights with lee? idk if you’ve written that yet. but maybeeeee staying up late with her.. OKAY BYE ILY!

late nights with lee harker <33

AWEEEE THIS IS SO CUTE HEHE thank you so much for the request angie ilysm!!!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ -> you and lee

I can see her being into playing board games and puzzles together during late nights. like, the two of you just having a movie or some music on and doing something like that. I feel like it'd relax her to put her focus to something on something other than work, and just become absorbed in that. plus, if it's a challenge of sorts, she'll find it entertaining amusing to verse you, especially if you're a sore loser

like you say in the headcanon in your post about lee driving (everyone say thank you angie hehe her headcanons are amazing), I could def see her enjoying aimlessly driving around (this is angie's headcanon!! she's a genius), which with you, involves taking you out in her car, winding the windows down and letting the cool wind get you both chilled and cozy

CUDDLES. I truly believe she is such a touch-starved, clingy girlfriend, and at the end of a long day, or even if she knows the next day she'll get to spend the day at home with you, she'll be super needy and excited to be with you. I feel like during late nights, she'll be especially clingy, and will enjoy being the little spoon, with you on your back and her face buried in your neck, legs entwined with you

sometimes really just needs some peace and quiet, especially after a chaotic day at work. I feel like she'd be happy to parallel play with you, just quietly eating her cereal and doing nothing at her desk while you do your own thing

you'll try to push her to not do work, but when she's particularly sunk into a case, it's hard to convince her to not work on it when home. sometimes, though, you do get upset at this, wanting time with her, and not being able to have it because she's bringing work home. once she realizes you're getting upset, she'll usually set it aside. and once she's holding you, and finally gets out of her work headspace, it'll hit her again just how much she misses you and how badly she wishes she had spent more of the night with you. she'll usually make it up for you by giving you all her attention, and it's a habit she tries to work on

also I can just see you guys goofing off in bed -- like, just being super cute, talking about the most random shit, like asking each other silly hypothetical questions, or talking about funny anecdotes, while raising your legs up and seeing who can last longest

sometimes you guys will share a joint and have some snacks together, which def helps her in unwinding LOL

if all else fails you guys can... you know 👀 if one of y'all is in the mood, you both are one hundred percent down for a night of position after position hehe

#I'm so sorry if this is terrible AHHH :(( it is currently 3AM and I simply took inspo from my own v late and sleepy night LOL #didn't spellcheckkkk #s.writing #request #mutuals #lee harker #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs 2024 #longlegs fanfiction

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vivaciousoceans · 5 months ago

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My UPDATED Law & Order: SVU A.D.A ranking:

Last time my criteria was 1) Whatever ADA I could remember and 2) Who ever I liked more. This time I’m going to be a little more objective (just barely). I will be judging off of 1) Tenure 2) Conviction Rate 3) Likeability and 4) Legacy, not in any particular order of importance.

15: Michael Cutter - He was from the mother show which I didn’t watch, and he’s very unmemorable in SVU because he only appeared in 4 episodes. I do remember him only getting moved to Sex Crimes as a punishment for lying about having a bachelors degree to both the DA’s office and the New York bar, but of course he didn’t get disbarred.

14: Sherri West - She was a decent prosecutor, she never did anything explicitly wrong. She just wasn’t particularly memorable, except for the fact that she stopped being a prosecutor in order to have more money for her "shoe fetish", which is just odd, in my opinion. She only appeared in 4 episodes as and ADA, so that’s why she gets second to last place.

13: Mikka Von - She was so fine I wish I could put her higher. She only appeared in one episode, but she won her case by being crafty. Her little flirtation with Fin was cute, Fin deserves some eye candy after dealing with the tension between Benson and Stabler for years. I wish she’d gotten a few more episodes to really cement a legacy for herself, but alas.

12: Kim Greylek - If she had appeared in more than 13 episodes, I would be willing to put her higher because she had the makings of a great A.D.A. She had the experience working with abused women, she was tough, but she wasn’t likeable in the slightest. I think she felt like she had to be this ball buster because of what happened to Casey after working with SVU, but she was just rude. She even threw shade at Casey, which was just not a good look.

11: David Haden - The dilf who chose his job over a relationship with Olivia Benson. He was like one of the finest men Liv allowed herself to date, and he broke it off with her for a job he resigned from a year later. The only reason he isn’t lower is because he was a decent attorney. He only appeared in 4 episodes though.

10: Peter Stone - Where do I start with Peter? Well 1) He tried to convict Rafael Barba, 2) He tried to play daddy to Noah, and 3) He plagiarized Barba’s whole exit after only knowing Liv for what? Two years? He wasn’t a bad lawyer, he was actually decent, he just went through a lot of personal stuff, and he wasn’t as willing as other ADA’s to do what needed to be done in a unit like SVU. I’m reserving the right to be biased towards him, despite everything he went through.

9: Abbie Carmichael - She was also from the mother show, which again I didn’t watch. She’s only this high because she didn’t do anything egregious, worked well with the detectives, and Angie Harmon is pretty. She only appeared in 4 episodes.

8: Jo Marlowe - Stablers ex-partner, played by the incomparable Sharon Stone. Part of the reason she is so high is because of her legacy, she just came in and had such a strong backstory which we don’t get a lot for ADA’s. She also alluded to having an affair with Elliot, which makes me especially happy because I don’t like Elliot. She was only in 4 episodes, but she delivered in every scene.

7: Gillian Hardwicke - I didn’t put her on my last ranking list which was just an oversight on my part. She was a really good prosecutor, and that wasn’t easy for the cases she tried. She had a 92% conviction rate and kept being handed cases that were complicated. Her empathy for the victims, and her drive for justice was refreshing. I enjoyed her short, 10 episode long run.

6: Sonya Paxton - I am a Sonya Paxton stan. She had her issues, with alcoholism, being a pain in the ass, but she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with Elliot Stabler. I hated her death, I wish she would’ve had more than 7 episodes, but I truly think that dying so a victim could receive justice, was the best send off for her character. That’s a legacy that can’t be easily forgotten, which is why she’s so high.

5: Dominick Carisi Jr. - Detective Sonny was my sweet baby angel, but I haven’t watched many seasons where he was ADA, and what I did watch left much to be desired. That being said, his experience at SVU, combined with his mentorship from Rafael Barba, makes him an empathetic prosecutor with great courtroom presence.

4: Elizabeth Donnelly - Coming in at number 4, Liz is a force to be reckoned with. She mentored Alex Cabot and to a certain extent Casey Novak. She fought her way to the top after experiencing a major setback as a woman attorney, that could’ve very easily ruined her career. She was empathetic when she needed to be, tougher when she didn’t need to be. She was a great supervisor and her legacy can’t be forgotten.

3: Alexandra Cabot - Her legacy, her conviction rate, her likeablity, her chemistry with the detectives, none of it can be denied. She was the first permanent ADA and is still a fan favorite for many. She’s strong in her convictions, she’s strong in her values, even if that means bending the law to get true justice. Alex just is that girl in all areas of life, and the only reason she’s at number 3 is because she leaned on her nepotism a little.

2: Rafael Barba - A feminist icon, a political landmine, and the smuggest ADA to exist. He took the cases that no one would touch with a 10-foot pole, and even if he didn’t win them, he made a difference. If he was a real lawyer, he would be studied for his impact on case law. He is very theatrical in court, especially when it comes to cross examinations, he is a shark when it comes to closing statements. He was the longest serving ADA SVU ever had and that takes big brass ego. He knew the law like the back of his hand, and talked a mile a minute, what more could you want? The only reason he’s number 2 is because of his conviction rate.

1: Casey Novak - She was insane, unhinged and insane. There’s no other way to describe her run as a prosecutor. She took on major political cases only to seek justice. She went after a sitting judge, the US Military, and pharmaceutical companies. She was empathetic and sympathetic when she felt like she wasn’t on the side of justice. She had no qualms throwing cases where she knew her win would be the opposite of justice, and she risked disbarment to get justice for a victim. I can truly say she deserves this number 1 spot because of her conviction rate, her legacy, tenure, and likeability.

#teya talks #rankings #law and order: svu #top 3 could honestly be switched around #i really wanted to put Mikka higher than greylick #the mother ship lawyers got extra points just bc I don’t know their full lores #alex cabot #casey novak #rafael barba #svu

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year ago

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The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs.

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon.

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees.

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart.

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right?

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink.

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…”

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins.

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence.

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence.

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?”

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.”

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!”

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.”

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’.

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station.

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.”

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters.

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction.

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry”

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding.

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass.

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect.

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life. The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight.

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them.

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-”

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry, coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah”

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare.

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames.

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence.

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart.

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence.

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day.

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction.

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does.

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

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annawritesblog · 1 year ago

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Matchmaker (m.s.)

Summary: Angie loves walks but also books apparently. Her playfulness results in a matchmaking.

A/N: hey lovelies. Sorry for the long wait, but here’s my second imagine, this time with Mick. It’s missing Mick hours here, so I thought this would be cute. Also, English is not my first language and I do NOT speak German, all the bold texts were translated with google translate, so excuse me if something’s not correct. Enjoy🤍

Today is an exceptionally beautiful day in Switzerland. After days of rain, the beauty of fall is finally showing. The park is covered with leaves and families are spending quality time with each other.

Turning a page in my new book, I inhale the fresh smell of my cappuccino that I couldn't manage to drink in an hour. I'm just so caught up in this book, that I cannot concentrate on anything else. Earlier today, I decided to walk to the nearest park, find a bench and get lost in my book. And that's exactly what I did.

I put my book down and look at my surroundings: happy couples, dogs, trees, babies and older people. Everybody’s chatting and enjoying the last bit of sunshine. The picture is so calming, I could sit here and observe things all day. I wonder if there’s a job like- what the hell?

"Angie, was tast du?" I look down, where I find a dog playing with...my book? When has that fallen out of my lap? I must've been lost in my thoughts again. I should really focus more on what’s happening around me.

"Das tut mir leid." A tall, blonde guy approaches me and takes my book out of what I suppose his dog's mouth. Only if I'd understand what he's saying.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak german." I pause the guy who was still talking to me I guess.

"I-I was just apologising. I'm so sorry, she usually doesn't do things like that. I guess she got excited?" He hands me over my book that's a bit wet, but it salvageable. "I- let me buy you a new one, this one's a bit...damaged."

"No, no. You really don't have to do that. It's completely fine, I actually like it better this way. It's unique." I smile to the very attractive blonde in front of me.

He runs a hand through his short hair and looks to his left, where his dog is, looking all innocent and cute. "Can't be mad at such an angel, right?" He asks while putting the leash on the puppy.

"No, you really can't." I giggle and scratch behind the dog's ear. "What's her name?"

"Angie." He looks at the animal then flashes his blue eyes on me. "And yours? What is your name?"

"Y/n” I answer shyly. "Yours?"

"I'm Mick, nice to meet you." He shakes my hand and instead of feeling uncomfortable, I actually feel chills running up my spine. "Mind if I sit?"

“Not at all.” He sits pretty close to me and the smell of cologne hits me. I take a second to examine Mick: his short blond hair is somewhat messy, but it actually suits him. He has an Under Armour jogging set on, which shows off his massive arms. Before I know it, I’m blushing at the sight of that.

"You have a really pretty accent, Y/n. I like it a lot." Mick looks into my eyes and smiles widely.

"Thank you." Just as he wants to say something,his dog jumps on the bench, just between us. I pet the fluffy animal and coo at her just like a baby. I can feel Mick’s eyes on me, his stare burning holes in my body. God he’s attractive.

“So hey, I really do feel bad about the book. It’s not acceptable.” He says and fumbles with one of his many bracelets.

“It’s totally fine. Now it has a story.” I smile at the blue eyed boy but he just doesn’t let this matter to rest.

“Still, I would like to rebuy that. Or any book really.” Now he seems eager almost. Although, not gonna lie, a book shopping date doesn’t sound half bad.

“Okay, alright. You can buy me a new book.” He smiles at this and nods. The dog between us starts barking so Mick takes her by the leash and stands up.

“I think someone’s hungry.” He pets Angie’s head and the cutie starts to shake her tail. “I think we need to get going, but can I have your number? You know for the book?” He asks and I feel my face turning red.

“Yeah, sure.” I try to act naturally as he hands me his phone and I type in my number. I save the number alongside with my name and hand him back the device.

“Thank you. So, I guess I’ll see you later?” He scratches the back of his neck and I nod. He will see me again for sure. “Well then, have a nice day Y/n.”

“You too, Mick.” I smile as he walks away. The leash however was twister around his feet so he almost fell over.

“Get it together, Mick.”

#f1 fic #f1 imagine #mick schumacher #f1 x reader #f1blr #female reader #imagine #fluff #blurb #charles leclerc

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misty--nights · 5 months ago

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It’s time for episode 6. I always start these thinking I won’t find much and it’ll be a short one, and then I’ll just keep finding details and the posts get pretty long

The recap editing strikes again. Immediately after Edwin tells Monty “I wasn’t talking about you” we get a shot of his hug with Charles

There are some colorful glasses up on the division between the spaces of Niko’s room (I don’t know the name of that thing) and I can just imagine Niko asking Jenny for a ladder to put them up there. Also there is a blue butterfly glued above her closet door

The sign with the name of Tragic Mick’s shop has a little fish jumping over it, which is really cute

When they first arrive at the shop and are talking with Mick, there is a figure on one of the shelves that kind of looks like a polar bear with a red dress

Niko’s card is pink and has like a cute bunny thing decoration. All of her things are adorable, I love her

It’s really funny just how terrible at lying all of these kids are. They are almost implausibly bad at it, and it’s always hilarious how the others just shrug and go with it

Speaking of, Monty flipping his hair and putting on a dramatic tone to tell them that his good friend has a problem is just peak. This boy is amazing, and his lying abilities fit right in with al the others (to his credit, none of the main kids realized he was a crow before the Cat King reveals the truth, so I guess it’s working for him)

The names for their potential cases are hilarious: Phantom Yodeler, Undead Milkman, Doppelganger Gang, Sentient Pants, Restless Piano Syndrome. (Can’t really make out what the last 2 say, but I can make out the words Cricket Wicket in one, and Gargoyle in the other)

Edwin has a little smile after Niko tells him he looks nice <3

I just realized that the reason Crystal’s attempt at pretending to read the tree is so bad is because she cannot tell that her eyes go white every time she uses her powers

Monty is immediately concerned when Charles says the elemental consumes ghosts. I love how clearly you can see the different emotions on his face, how you can tell the instant he starts to have second thoughts about this plan, even if he is still going to go through with it for revenge (for a little while at least)

Edwin’s science glasses are just for the drama/aesthetic, right? All of the others are standing right there by him without any glasses, so it’s not like they are for protection. Also you have to love the fact that he passes Charles the vial to throw it even though I’m sure it would have been the same if Edwin himself had done it? Charles doesn’t throw it too far, so it’s not like it required a lot of strength or anything. It’s just the way they do things, I guess. Edwin creates the potions, Charles throws them. Brains and brawn

I could be wrong, but I think that when the Night Nurse and Kashi are talking you can hear Angie’s heartbeat in the background

After Charles breaks all of David’s mirrors, the ground of Crystal’s mind place is full of glass (I think it wasn’t before, but my memory isn’t great so I could be wrong about this one too)

I’ve been thinking about since the episode 1 rewatch, but I think it’s interesting that none of the kids (minus Niko) made the connection between Monty the boy and Monty the witches familiar, given the way Esther yells Monty’s name after that first confrontation when they rescued Becky Aspen. I know it’s a wild connection to make, but Monty isn’t that common of a name, and they all were very much there when she yelled “Monty, shut up” at the screaming crow inside of her house. I don’t know, I think it could have been funny for Charles to fixate on Edwin’s new pal having the same name as Esther’s crow, and then for the others to dismiss it as jealousy. It would be hilarious, and it’d give Charles a chance to be all “I told you so” after the reveal

All of the chairs around the table by Crystal’s tree are a little different

Petition to make Crystal part of the Brawn team in the agency, because the way she fights Esther is vicious. She should get to beat the shit out of more enemies next season

Charles sounds like he’s been crying right after Crystal rescues the two of them. His voice is all watery and broken even though he’s smiling

One of Niko’s cushions on her windowsill has an octopus on it

Ghosts don’t have reflections, but they do have shadows. I guess shadows would be harder to remove irl? I noticed the shadows during the scene where they’re thinking of a name for Crystal’s move

The Night Nurse says she’s been working at that post for over two million hours, which means (according to google) that she’s been at the Lost and Found department for almost 230 years. No wonder she’s so done with everyone’s bullshit. Imagine working the same shitty job for over 200 years

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #monty finch #monty the crow #charles rowland #niko sasaki #crystal palace #jenny green #tragic mick #esther finch #the night nurse #kashi #david the demon #my writing

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rotteneggssuck · 5 months ago

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AAAAHHHH!!! Ok. I saw some TikTok videos saying “combine the last video game you played and last tv show you watched” and I was like “oh, that would be danganronpa v3 and dungeon meshi”. Now I’m going fucking insane over it.

Anyway, here’s what I think all the v3 characters, races would be in the dungeon meshi universe.

Angie-Gnome. This one is kinda weird to start with BUT, gnomes live side by side with nature spirits and ask them for help with magic and stuff. I think Angie suits being a long life race, idk why. Also she’s would looks so cute with the ears.

Gonta-Oger. Big. Need I explain more? He’s just a gentle giant, and I think the big horns and teeth would also add to his “people get scared when they see me” story.

Himiko-Gnome. It’s literally perfect, shut up. Magic being culturally significant, generally a pretty short race, even for a character design point! The sleepy droopy eyes!!!! AHHHH! Love her.

Kaede-Tall man. She’s just so!!!! That’s all I can say. I just think if she was made another race it would take away from her everything. Like I debated an elf but, it just didn’t feel right.

Kaito-Tall man. Are you going to sit here and tell me that kaito isn’t the most guy of men. He would 100% say shit like “I only have a short life, so I need to make the most of it!” Then run head first into a dragon fight without any plans.

Kiibo-Beast man. Specifically a werewolf, like just. “I know I’m a beast man, but I’m still just as human as anyone else!” And he would still get to contemplate his humanity:DDD. I can just picture kokichi being a massive bitch about it too.

Kirumi-Elf. She’s just hot like that. Also you know, the expectation of her being perfect and talented. I feel like at first she would pity short life races and fall into the “they are like children” mindset (obviously still doing anything they asked of her, she’s still herself) then after meeting the cast, would go “oh, wait. These are just people. They don’t need pity for just existing”.

Kokichi-Half foot. Ok this is another one that’s absolutely perfect. Like the lock-picking, them commonly being known for thievery, and he would absolutely use those big old ears for no good!!!! Literally just a perfect match.

Korekiyo-Kobold. Ok. This is going to be the first of a few “because I said so” he would just look so god dam good like that. It would just add to his “I’m mysterious and not much is known about me” vibe. Yes. I know kobolds tend to stay in there community’s, and can’t speak in the common tongue that well. Fuck you!!!

Maki-Half foot. I know some might question this, but hear me out! It would be so handy for her assassin thing! Like the hearing would be a massive help, her size would make it easier to go unnoticed, also she would be incredibly light footed.

Miu-Dwarf. They’re like the technology race! They invent shit! Also her brash attitude would just fit in most with dwarves, she’s probably a bit confused why everyone’s getting mad at her for being, well, her.

Rantaro-Elf. Because I said so #2. He’s just hot, I don’t think he would pity short life races tho. My mans is too well traveled for that shit to slide.

Ryoma-Dwarf. Ok yes. It is because he’s short. But also because of his demeanour, like he’s really gruff and stoic, I imagine his backstory would be much of the same, but with the added benefit of “I will outlive most of the friends I make, so why make friends in the first place”.

Shuichi-Elf. Pure fucking vibes. Just look at him. Also something something, his parents are probably these great Influential people or whatever, and he feels like all he’s achievement’s mean nothing….. something something.

Tenko-Kobold. Another absolutely perfect one! Like, just! AG! Look at everything we know about kobolds! It can be applied to Tenko!! Also she’s not immune to the “because I said so” argument. She’s my favourite. Kobolds are my favourite. Boom. Done.

Tsumugi-Tall man. Don’t even try to argue this one. Tall men are the “nothing too special about them” race. The plain race. Like I don’t know what you want from me.

Anyway that’s all. Maybe keep an eye out for some art of this crossover. Idk. Had lots of fun tho. Obviously if anyone wants to use this idea as a springboard you absolutely can, but please let me see!!! I wanna see someone going as insane as I am about my favourite game being crossed over with such a cool manga/anime

#danganronpa v3 #danganronpa #danganronpa au #danganronpa crossover #crossover #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #drv3 #danganronpa killing harmony

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lu-lus-dicks · 8 months ago

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@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 4

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do, minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department, jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?

chapter: 4/? / chapter Word count: 2,484 / total word count: 7,426

nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk/huskers. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.

A/N: pure lore this chapter. Almost none of the funny :( sorry. i've decided that as an apology for not being active at all today, the entirety of the next chapter is just going to be nunalastor fucking. I will also stop talking about plot from now on, cuz i'm just bullshitting my way through at this point.

"Hi" Lulu greeted. The room fell into an awkward silence, and the air thickened with palpable tension. Lulu locked his gaze with Alastor's, refusing to look away. The seconds stretched into minutes, elongating the unspoken battle of wills and determination, a staring contest neither wanted to lose, although Lulu was undeniably unaware of the game and was just being a menace.

"how may I assist you today?" Alastor finally spoke, his voice punctuated by a forced smile that failed to reach his eyes. The constant staring wasn't enough to get him to blink even once, but the mundane nature of just staring at Lulu was more than reason enough for Alastor to interject their five extremely long minutes of silence. Plus he didn't need the other members of the hotel to start asking questions. they were too persistent anyway.

Lulu snapped out of his reverie, jolted back to reality by Alastor's question. He rummaged through his bag, shuffling items aside in search of something specific, his actions conveying a sense of excitement. Ugh, he could've been a living vibrator with how jarring the immediate mood shift was. "Ah, right," He mumbled, his attention divided between the bag and Alastor. "I'm here to try and convince you to help me... Again."

Alastor let an exasperated sigh slip, pinching the bridge of his nose. This had been the third time lulu approached him this week alone and this feral... whatever that thing was, wasn't giving up on it "we've already went over this lulu, I am not going to help you steal Lucifers blood"

Lulu pouted, letting out a saddened squeak, his hands immediately stopping their search for the list of reasons Alastor should let Lulu steal Lucifers blood "Not even for 75 souls? Really cute ones?" He bargained, shoulders slumping and posture generally turning a lot more depressed, just like the owner of those shoulders probably was.

"No." Alastor reiterated, "No amount of souls is going to cut it."

The very annoyed and pissed expression on lulus face was honestly disgusting. Lulu leaned in closer, as if the proximity would convince Alastor. oh how wrong he was.

"Dear, why don't you just stop with this nonsense?" Alastor said, the corners of his trademark fake smile twitching in irritation. He put his hands back behind him and stepped away. The more distance between this creature and him the more comfortable he felt.

"what if it was the entire west side of the pentagram?" Lulu offered, sort of as a last ditch attempt... for today at least. Lulu was not exactly sane enough to know when to quit.

"I highly doubt a creature such as yourself is going to be able to achieve such a thing" Alastor answered, mostly as a jab to Lulus pathetic self, but the idea of him gathering so many souls was an amusing one.

However, Lulu didn't think so. Lulus eyes lit up with mischief, immediately switching from that almost-scowl to a smirk even the devil wouldn't be able to mimic. He jumped from the realization, "so that is a maybe! progress"

Alastor shouldn't be surprised but he is. Why is Lulu so obsessed with lucifers blood? sure it tasted good but not that good. Alastor sighed, shaking his head in disbelief and spoke "if that was all you came here for than you're welcome to leave"

"yeah, okay-" Lulu cut himself off as soon as he noticed a sexy four armed hottie walking by the door. "woah! who's that sexy thing over there?"

"excuse me?" Angie turned his head at the directed voice at him. he looked left and right, as if to make sure it was really him that this random imp looking creature was talking to. Once he was sure there was no one else, he put on his trademark seductive smile "oh, are you one of my fans?"

"no, never seen you in my life. what's a beautiful thing like you doing here?" Lulu said casually, running up to Angie and circling around him. The concept of personal space must've been a heaven thing because Lulu was prodding at absolutely every part of Angie.

"oh, that's a first." Angie chuckled nervously as he watched Lulu welcome himself to his body. "well the names angie"

"the names lulu." Lulu answered in a heartbeat. He finally relented the assault and turned to Alastor, waving "Bye Alastor, I'll be stealing your bitches"

"what?"

"he's the most precious thing I have with me here at the hotel!" Angie said petting the pig in question. Little fat nuggets was very comfortably set in his lap and was napping.

"he is a cute pig, i'll admit." Lulu said, laughing along and staring at the adorable little creature. He tapped his fingers against the nearest surface, humming to himself. "hmm... say though, what is it that you actually desire? surely there's more to your existence than just taking care of fat nuggets?"

Angie slumped at that question, he didn't like being reminded of work, especially not when he's supposed to be relaxing. HE looked away, scratching the back of his head "oh, that's complicated"

"how so?" Lulu pried, crossing his legs, picking up his teacup and taking one sip. "It's tea time, and tea needs spillin"

Angie shrugged, reaching out one of his four arms to grab his own cup. he blew on it before taking a sip and sighing. "well, I kinda sold my soul to a blind prick" He began

"ah, gotcha" Lulu nodded, "go on, what's this prick like?" he pried, observing him with a keen eye.

That was all it took for Angie to start going off. "he's a real asshole, and not the sexy kind. he has no sense of personal space and is so insistent on always having me around. it's pathetic really-"

As Angie continued his rambling about how unbearable val was, Lulu listened attentively, observing him with a keen eye. Sensing Angie's frustration and dissatisfaction, Lulu formulated a surprising proposal. "What if I told you," Lulu interjected, his voice filled with intrigue, "that I could help you with that?"

"You're serious?" Angie asked, his voice tinged with both skepticism and caution, but he wasn't too against the idea, who would be?

Lulu nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Absolutely. I have been trying to find a way to gain status you see, and what better way than to steal the porn overlords most prized bitch?"

Angie leaned forward, his attention fully captured by Lulu's proposition. "And what would you want in return? I've learned the hard way that nothing comes without a price. Not making that mistake again"

Lulu's smile widened as he raised his teacup to his lips, savoring another sip before placing it back on the table. "you're absolutely right. The thing is, the plan I have in mind isn't one I can carry out on my own. I need a helping hand. A partner in crime" Lulu said, letting the rest be left unspoken.

"i'm not helping you kill someone" Angie said, crossing his first set of arms over his chest and wrapping the second around fat nuggets almost like a shield.

"kill? nonsense" Lulu said, waving his hand in dismissal, as if even the mere idea of it was ridiculous. |I need you to help me collect souls. souls that will give me a name. nothing more. I can guarantee I will not be harming any soul that I collect"

That sounded very sketchy. On one hand, yes it made sense, collecting souls was how other overlords became overlords, but most overlords were also assholes. Angie couldn't let another one like valentino exist in the world. But the offer was too tempting... "how do I know you ain't lying?"

Lulu got up, extending a hand over to angie, pausing first in confusion. He was having trouble deciding which hand would need shaking "uh..." He shook it off. "I'll make a contract. In exchange for your assistance, I promise to free you from valentino grasp. In addition, I promise that I will not harm a single soul in the process"

Angie was sold. That was enough a reason to think this guy wasn't fucking around. "As you already know, I've already sold a part of my soul. no need for the deal. I'll help you"

"wonderful. I'll be discussing the plan with you two weeks before the next extermination"

Vox stared at Huskers, his crimson eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, had broken another of Vox's employees watches. His anger was palpable and causing static to appear between his antennas. "That fucking bastard?!"

Husk shifted uncomfortably under Vox's gaze. The pitch shift in Vox's voice was stupid but a little intimidating. "I'm sorry. I didn't get to talk to him, I went to this hotel after Angie offered, and I just stumbled upon him there"

Vox looked like he was about to blow a fuse but for a moment Vox's anger got replaced with a smirk. He paced back and forth across his office, his sharp claws clicking against the marble floor. The gears in his mind (literally) spun rapidly, taking into account every single opportunity he had now that husk was attending the hotel.

"Hmm," Vox muttered, his screen displaying a smirk worthy of the sexiest man on twitter. "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. Someone to gather intel on my dear Alastor-I mean, that asshole!" He turned his attention back to Huskers, his gaze piercing. "It has failed once, but to be fair, that Pentious was a complete idiot." Vox paused, putting a finger up to his face. "Do they trust you?"

Husker hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Uh... not particularly," they admitted. Sure, they were in hell, but they were almost killed on the first day, that can't be a sign of trust.

Vox waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Unimportant. From now on, you are free from all other duties," He declared, his voice full of pure adulterated joy, one only a horny man like vox could make. "Your primary job will be to gather intel on that radio prick. I want to know his every move, his every plan. What he eats. Where he sleeps. What his favorite color is. What time he goes to sleep. What his hooves look like-"

"But sir—" Husker began, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Vox's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not even try to negotiate with me on this," he warned, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "I own your soul" He reminded.

Husker's shoulders slumped, defeated. "Okay," he muttered, his voice barely audible. It would be fine. He saw Alastor once the entire day anyway and that was when he needed to break his tech. He wouldn't even get the opportunities to gather intel anyway.

"good" Vox turned away, his mind already racing with schemes and plots. He had been blindsided by Alastor once, but this time would be different. He would have his dear Alastor tied up and begging for mercy!

"and that concludes today's exercises! you're free to go about your days as usual now!" Charlie clapped, signaling everyone's dismissal. She turned to huskers and called out before they could leave "Huskers, may I have a moment?"

"yes, your... highness?"

Charlie chuckled, shaking her head. "Just Charlie," she corrected, her warm smile putting Huskers slightly at ease. "You know we have rooms at the hotel for you to stay at, right? I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you were available as soon as we started, and if it's something you'd like?"

Huskers' shoulders slumped and they sighed. "I mean, it's not entirely up to me, Princess. I'd have to consult with my boss first," They explained. It wouldn't be everyday that Vox showed mercy.

Charlie's expression turned thoughtful, and she nodded understandingly. "Alright, we'll let you talk it out with him and hopefully we can get you here!"

Charlie's excitement died down quickly though, realizing that due to short staff (literally), they were out of rooms where people could actually survive. "Unfortunately, we only have one empty and clean room at the hotel right now, and it's up with our marketing staff."

Huskers eyes lit up. The marketing staff? That's Nunalastor!

"And they tend to get messy at nigh-"

"I'll do it!" they far too quickly accepted, not wanting to miss the opportunity. "I don't mind at all. I'd love to take the room! I'm sure nu-the marketing staff are lovely!" they chuckled nervously, making it way too obvious what their intentions were.

Charlie, bless her heart, either didn't notice or didn't mention it. Her eyes sparkled with joy. "Wow, such enthusiasm! See, I knew I was right about you!"

Alastor hummed to himself as he traveled up the stairs. He couldn't help but overhear huskers little interaction with charlie and he just couldn't let the opportunity for some chaos and fun pass. He approached the door to Dickmasters and Nuns room and knocked thrice. Some thumping could be heard on the other side before the door opened in front of him.

Dickmaster answered "yes?"

"greetings, cohorts" Alastor greeted with that charming smile of his. Both Nun and Dickmaster collectively rolled their eyes.

"do you mind? we're in the middle of a fucking..." Dickmaster trailed off.

"we are not fucking, they're just too dumb to finish that sentence" Nun shouted from behind the room. The fact that they were sprawled across the bed in nothing but a shirt on wasn't helping the situation.

Alastor chose to not comment on it. He didn't care. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he began to speak "I have a favor. you see this new resident of ours is here to make my life miserable. I can hear vox's pathetic begging almost from across the pentagram, and they're a spy of his. I'm sure of it, however I don't view them as a threat"

Dickmaster raised a brow, unamused. "uhm, congrats? what's that gotta do with us?"

Alastor chuckled, leaning in font of them, hands resting on his cane. "oh, nothing much. I simply ask that you make their life miserable with your charming little quirks"

Nun and Dickmaster exchanged glances, contemplating Alastor's request. It wouldn't be hard and could prove to be quite entertaining. Plus, Nun wanted to stick it to that guy for some reason. After a brief silence, they smirked and nodded. "oh, will do at some point. What's in it for us though?"

"Entertainment"

"that's hardly a fair deal"

"By the looks of things, that isn't going to stop you." Alastor doesn't wait for a response and starts to melt away into his shadow. "they'll be staying in the room across from you." is the words he left with.

"fuck that guy with his own cane, seriously"

#lulu is delulu #nunwhiskers #lulu is feral #lulu fed you twice this week #don't expect a new one anytime soon #huskers-bar x nunalastor #this is a nunalastor simp blog #now if you'll excuse me I have probably a 100+ nunalastor posts to read through <3

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