#and I haven’t even actually listened to the whole musical from the start

[saixria]

Forget Polites haunting the narrative those last 90 seconds of ICHBW are haunting the narrative. Relistening to epic songs with ICHBW in mind gives so many songs a completely new context I swear

[carmenized-onions]

Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him. 

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck. 

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all.  “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

 You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee. 

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink. 

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups. 

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where. 

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy. 

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off. 

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence. 

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed. 

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

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

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

[idontego]

Kaji Conceals His Relationship With You From His Friends

Summary: well, the title explains it, but do you think he can keep it a secret for much longer?

Warnings: swearing and suggestive violent behavior

A/n: I hope the ending didn’t disappoint! I thought it was a unique twist, pls.

As much and Kaji loves you, it was a mutual decision that your relationship be kept a secret from his friends because he didn’t want you to become a distraction because of how his friends would act towards him.

His friends knew who you were and looked at you as a mutual. They had no idea that you had a particular love interest and it was better kept that way. Kaji and you have been in a relationship for less than 6 months so far, but the more you stuck around him and his friends, the more they gained interest in you. Some of them even considered you a love interest and in fact had crushes on you. It wasn’t until recently that all of this unfolded.

Kaji was getting lunch with some of the second years, along with the first years. Kaji wasn’t too fond of most of the first years and would normally tune them out, that was until at Pothos you were brought up to the table. He immediately paused his music, but kept his headphones on.

Taiga was waving around his phone and said “Should i text y/n? I have her number and I’ve been thinking about asking her out on a date or somethin’.” Taiga said with his feet propped up on the table. “not if i beat you do it first, buddy.” Mitsuki said, leaning over the table grabbing Taiga’s phone from him. “There’s no way you haven’t even texted her yet. I’ve been knocking on that door for a few weeks. It’ll work soon, trust me.” Mitsuki proceeded.

“HEY GIVE ME THAT BACK!” Taiga said now also reaching over the table to get his phone back. Mitsuki was now typing something on his phone.

“I’m just gonna see if she at least responds to you! Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. You know how i am with the ladies.” Mitsuki reassured him.

Kaji sent over a piercing gaze to the both of them, crushing his lollipop between his teeth, making a loud cracking sound. He bit right through, all the way to the stick and he then realized he was gritting his teeth pretty hard and needed to keep listening to see if things got more out of hand. Would you actually respond to them? He wouldn’t expect you to say anything back to them, or at least he still hoped. He was now full of regret. Why did he not tell them sooner. It was for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t tell them because he felt he couldn’t genuinely handle them picking on him for being with you and making gushy jokes. Don’t even get me started on his phone. He just knows that if it was left unsupervised, they would try to send you some silly text or even worse, go through your messages.

Kaji began to mumble under his breath, completely consumed by the idea of their scheme and the reality of it happening right In front of his face. He ripped open another lollipop placing it in his mouth and put his headphones around his neck.

“You morons really think she’d say something back to ya’?” Kaji said with a straight face.

“What’s it to ya, Kaji? You like her or something? You’ve been pouting in the corner the whole time we’ve been here.” Taiga said.

Kaji’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood up and walked over to them stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. His fists were clenched so tight in this very moment he was breaking the skin in his palms from his nails.

“What’s it t’me?! Pick up the Goddamn phone, and send it, i dare you. Unless you wanna find out the hard way, ‘what it is to me’. ” He said. He closed his lips back around his lollipop and stood there, waiting for a response. His chest was heaving up and down, fast. The blood rushing to his face at a faster pace. Did he just give himself away?

“That’s it.” Sakura was now tuned into the conversation and started making his way to their table. He didn’t like all of this girl talk and was about to say something to all three of them until Nirei pulled Sakura’s arm, turning him around and saying “S-Sakura that is not a good idea! Please trust me! For starters, you know you don’t want to get Kaji fired up and second, it’s rumored that y/n is his girlfriend.” The room went silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Nirei’s face was unexplainable.

Kaji turned around to Nirei, spitting out his lollipop and lunging towards him, but Kaji was swiftly restrained.

“Of course you would be the one… TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP AND NOT LET ME HANDLE IT!” Kaji barked, his nose was scrunched and yelling at this point, showing his canines.

“I-i didn’t m-mean to, Kaji, please. Please forgive me.” Nirei pleaded.

Kaji took a deep breath and realized the two forces holding him back and relaxed his body, ripping open another lollipop, tossing it in his mouth. He knows you wouldn’t want him to be acting this way right now and concluded to own up to it. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you by any means, he just wants to protect you so bad, even if that means from his own friends, but he truly doesn’t need to worry now that they all know.

“Secret’s out.” Kaji responded as he smoothed back down his hoodie and put his headphones back on. He walked out the door of Pothos by himself and the only thing that made a sound was the chimes of the bell on the door as he exited.

[danisdistant]

sunday x emanator of voracity reader? perchance

chat... am i cooking...

sunday - uncontrollable desire

a/n: as far as i know, oroboros is some hungry and desperate aeon who went missing eating the swarm. so as an emanator of voracity, you carry some of the hunger too. i love the interesting idea though, i wanna see some characters that follow missing aeons like argenti with the goddess of beauty…

[intro blog] | [taglist] | [masterlist]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

not much is known about oroboros, much less about any existing followers or even emanators. but when the express stumbled across you in an unknown area of the universe, the first impression you left on everyone was your insatiable hunger.

as far as you could remember, you’ve always been hungry for your whole existence. no food, person, thing, or even planet could fully quench your hunger. however, you couldn't remember when you've become the emanator of voracity. the aeon of oroboros has long been missing, but you don't even remember a voice from THEM.

oh well. when the astral express first encountered you, they immediately considered you as a threat. what if you ate one of the crew members?? what if you ate several?? hell, the entire express?? despite your increasing appetite, you didn't feel a need to indulge yourself in a full course meal in front of you. after all, the express is the first couple of people you've seen after being stuck on this planet for how long?

they were hesitant letting you on the express. pom-pom especially was concerned about letting an emanator on their train. welt, himeko, dan heng, and even sunday were wary about your presence. march 7th and stelle felt like you gave off a weird aura. you were the outcast of the nameless, but you didn't really care that much.

maybe you joined the astral express after the boring and excruciating time you’ve spent hungry (almost starving) on that desolate planet. after all, you’ve been devouring rocks to fulfill the desire for just a brief moment. or maybe you joined because you wish to resume your devouring spree, using the express to travel to different worlds to completely ingulf them. or maybe you’ve joined for the hell of it.

after some time of not trying to eat your fellow crewmates, some started to become fascinated with you, since they haven’t seen a follower of THEM ever. on the other hand you’ve become more interested in a fellow bird boy.

you’ve been noticing that on some late nights on the express when everyone is supposed to be asleep, piano melodies have been echoing in the halls for minutes to hours before stopping.

when you asked sunday who he thought it came from, it surprised you to hear that it was actually him to played the melody. though, he was somewhat embarrassed given his attempt to subtly hide his face with his wings. he plays the piano at night to not disturb anyone after all.

but what interests you isn’t just his skill with the piano, or the way his fingers press each key with passion, no. for some reason, the melody eases your hunger and desire to indulge in anything you see. almost as if you were eating the music that actually filled you up.

so, you sometimes join sunday late at night to watch him play the piano, listening to his stories about each song he’s played for his sister. penacony, land of dreams, you wondered if you’d still be hungry when you go there.

but right now, you’re content with staying on the express and helping pom-pom around with cleaning (you basically just eat the trash to pom-pom’s horror). and as a bonus, you’re spending time with sunday at late nights, easing your own hunger as you devour his melodies and stories with a single bite.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

It’s both exciting and terrifying to be in Chicago when they arrive Thursday afternoon. This is, unfortunately, very often as close to hometown shows as the band gets to these days. They have the night off, before the show tomorrow, when the band will find out if Steve and his friends actually show up to the gig or not. Despite not having a show, the band doesn’t get the whole day off; Paige had booked a few radio interviews before the gig to drum up attention.

He should have seen it coming when the radio host brought up the TikTok exchange. “So, be honest, have you guys coordinated with Harrington and his friends to get him to your show tomorrow?” 

“Not really. Our manager sent info and Steve gave it a thumbs up, but that’s really been it? But we’ve been busy with shows almost every night, and he’s had a lot of travel games the last few days, so we’ll have to wait and see if he’s able to make it out.” Jeff takes over the answer with ease, probably having predicted the attention.

“Did you really not recognize him, Eddie?” The host goads and Eddie lets himself chuckle.

“It may sound kind of ridiculous, but the genuine answer is yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, 6 years. And, believe it or not, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds. We knew of one another, I think, but there were hundreds of kids in our school.” Eddie always defaults to the truth in interviews; it’s the simplest route and leaves less room for people to poke holes in the narrative if he’s just honest.

“Will you guys be going to the Blackhawks game on Saturday?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Gareth laughs, and just as quickly as the segment started, it’s over with their own latest hit playing them out of the studio.

A Thursday night off in the city wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the band collectively made a trip to the bar closest to their hotel for wings and a few drinks. One of the guys must have posted something on social media about being out because as Eddie’s walking into his hotel, he happens to check his TikTok to find a message waiting for him.

harrington94 should I take it personally that you guys went out in my town and didn’t ask for recs or anything? 

eddiecc I honestly figured you’d be too busy and didn’t want to bother you.

harrington94 never too busy to show a friend around town. But I do appreciate having a down day, so thanks. 

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as he processed Steve’s message. Friends? Is that what they were? Could they even really consider one another that? He ultimately decided not to think too much of it, in favor of keeping the conversation going. Maybe the more they talked, the less awkward the next two nights would be.

eddiecc I totally get it if you want to skip the show in favor of another down day.

harrington94 no backing out on me now, Munson. I’ve finally got the cool card with the Party. We’ll be there, no doubt.

Eddie feels a little smile creep over his face and his ears feel a little warm, but before he can answer that, text bubbles pop up again. He waits to see what else Steve is going to say before he does something embarrassing.

harrington94 now feels like a safe time to confess that I haven’t really listened to much of your music, though, so don’t think I’m rude if I’m not headbanging along with the boys.

That was more like the interaction Eddie had expected from their TikTok exchange. He never expected Steve to know their music and was shocked he even knew their band name when his response had been posted on TikTok.

eddiecc I honestly cannot exactly say I’m surprised to hear this. You never exactly struck me as a headbanger, anyway.

harrington94 i feel like that’s some kind of thinly veiled insult that I’m missing, but you’re not wrong.

The text bubbles appear again, and Eddie waits for him to finish the thought rather than respond.

harrington94 why don’t you text me instead? It feels easier than paying attention to this app I don’t really know how to use.

Eddie was quick to copy the number Steve sent and shoot off a text, weirdly enjoying the exchange the two were having and not ready to call it a night just yet.

__________

A particularly ridiculous meme from Eddie had Steve snorting from his spot lounging across the sofa. The next thing he knew, a pillow was flying at his face. He was able to react quickly enough to block it with his arm, dropping the phone to his chest, before glaring at Robin. She was watching him from the recliner across the living room.

“What the fuck?” He asks, tossing the pillow back in her general direction, more gently than she’d tossed it his way.

“You’re grinning at your phone like you’re setting up a hot date. Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Heidi again.” Robin pleads dramatically, twisting her body in the chair to face him. 

“I’m not grinning at my phone, shut up.” He grumbles, ignoring how hot his neck feels as he blushes. Instead, he picks his phone back up to finish the thought he’d been typing before he’d been interrupted. “I’m just texting with Eddie, that’s all.”

Robin’s eyes widened immediately, and she sprung from the recliner toward the sofa. “Give me your phone!” She demands, grunting as she fell face first into the sofa, missing Steve by an inch. He manuveres away from her without looking up from his phone, making his way down the hall to his room. “Steve, come on!”

“It’s not a big deal! We’re just talking! It’s fine!” He insists, tucking the phone into his back pocket as he turns into his bedroom.

But maybe it was a big deal? Steve couldn’t tell; this was the part he was never really good at. He had a tendency to miss signs everyone else thought were obvious, and he didn’t want to risk making things weird with Eddie if Robin thought he was missing something that wasn’t actually there. The texts with Eddie had shifted from Steve confessing his knowledge of Corroded Coffin was strictly limited to whatever the Party played in the car when he drove them places, to Eddie confessing he knew next to nothing about hockey. It seemed to level the playing field between the two of them, and at least made Steve feel more at ease about the time they’d be spending together between the concert and the game. 

When Steve had asked how the tour was going so far, Eddie had shared a link to an instagram, where fans were finding something to meme from each night of the shows. To which Jeff and Gareth were making memes in response, picking on one another in a way that felt like with some of his teammates. The message that had prompted the most reaction from Steve was the last thing Eddie had sent before Robin threw the pillow; a meme of Eddie looking confused, which Jeff had edited “So he’s not Joe Jonas?” over his head.

In his room, Steve leans over to pick up his charger, but he feels his phone lift free from his pocket. “Hey!” He calls after Robin, who’s sprinting down the hallway, laughing like the menace she is.

“I just want to see what you’re talking about!” Robin says, unlocking his phone. He’s just about to catch up to her, as she slides on her socks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, right in his face. 

“You’re being a child, Robs, c’mon. Give me my phone back.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door. He jiggles the handle, but as he’d guessed, she’d locked it behind her.

“Do you like him?” She asks through the door, and he sighs again.

“I don’t know,” He answers, honestly and exhaustedly. “I don’t even know him, you know? We weren’t friends, it’s not like I could tell you anything about him other than Tommy used to buy weed from him and he would stand on tables and yell in the cafeteria.”

There’s a long silence before Robin opens the door, meeting Steve with a little smile. She shoves the phone back into his chest and pats his hand when he takes it from her. “I think this could be good for you. That this could be good for you.”

“I’m trying not to read too hard into it.” Steve mumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He glances back down at the screen, to see what while Robin had taken the phone, Eddie had sent another text.

Eddie: How were your games? Are you doing anything special for your day off?

It makes something twist in his chest, that Eddie even cares, and he doesn’t quite know why. It must show on his face, some part of how he’s feeling, because Robin just smiles and nods. Maybe she knows how he feels, part of their weird unspoken telepathy, because she walks further into her room and pats the edge of her bed as she goes.

“Are you going to let me paint your nails for the concert?” She asks. Everything inside of Steve appreciates how she always knows when to give him space to try and figure his shit out on his own.

“Obviously.” He laughs softly, following her into the bedroom to sit on her bed and watch her move around collecting things to paint his nails.

~~~

The following day, Steve spends more time than he would like to admit picking out an outfit to wear to the concert. He can hear the Party starting to get antsy in the living room, even though they’d still be plenty early if they left right now, so he decides to just roll with the white shirt and fitted khakis he’d dressed himself in several hours ago before he started overthinking his choices. He finished the outfit off with a black zip-up fleece and black and white Nikes. 

A final check of his hair had him walking out of his room and into the living room, where chaos erupted.

“It’s about time!” Dustin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with excitement on the sofa.

“It took you that long to come out looking like that?” Mike asks, but Max just snorts and shoves his shoulder.

“Let’s just go.” Steve rolls his eyes, glancing over at Robin who jingles car keys she’s already holding, before leading the way out of the apartment.

In the car, he shoots Eddie a quick text to let him know they’re on the way. Eddie’s quick to reply, giving the message a thumbs-up reaction. Unbelievably, the Party somehow manages to get even louder than usual once they were inside, and it doesn’t take long for a security guard to find them. They’re led through the back tunnels of Wintrust Arena, and Steve gets a little nostalgic for playing hockey in college. He’s snapped out of it when a girl passes out their pass lanyards and gives each of the Party a voucher for free drinks and snacks. 

“This is too much, really,” Steve protests as she hands him the voucher, but Paige insists with a kind smile. 

“We get this kind of stuff from every venue and rarely get to use it to its full extent. The guys want to do this for you and your friends, just enjoy it.”

The Party loads up on treats at the nearest food station, while Steve and Robin grab beers with Paige. As she collects her drink, Paige hands Steve a palm-sized bag of earplugs. He frowns at them, which makes her laugh. 

“Eddie said this isn't really your usual kind of scene, and these shows can get loud,” she taps her own ears to show she has similar earplugs in. “Should also help prevent headaches or anything else that might keep you off the ice tomorrow.”

“Please, he’s too stubborn to stay off the ice. The amount of migraines he’s played through is outrageous,” Dustin bounds back into the conversation, earning a chuckle from Robin. Steve throws his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him just a little too close and too tight. Dustin exaggerates choking noises, flailing around and making a scene, but Steve refuses to let up.

_____

There’s more anxiety than usual thrumming through Eddie as he and Jeff make their way through the arena, to where Paige had said she’d take Steve and his friends for snacks. As they walk up on the group, however, Steve quickly pulls a younger boy with a head full of curls into a headlock. He lets the scene continue for a moment before he nudges Jeff.

“At what point fo you think we should intervene?” He asks with a smile, making Jeff chuckle. Steve, however, freezes, then shoves Dustin away. He turns to give Eddie a sheepish smile, and Eddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow. 

Steve lets out a huff of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair, shrugging and tipping his head in the boy’s direction. “This is Dustin. He’s like my little brother. I’m allowed to pick on him when he’s being a shithead.” Dustin nudges his elbow into Steve’s gut, who’s quick to smack his arm in response. Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s twisting a curl around his finger and biting back a grin. He does, however, make a conscious effort to not chew on his hair. He knows he’d never hear the end of it, fawning over Steve Harrington after a whole 10 seconds.

Eddie offers a hand out to Dustin, hoping Jeff and Paige would let his little tells fly under the radar. Just this once, they seem to, as he greets the Party. “Hey man, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are, holy shit, man.” Dustin eventually fumbles through, shaking Eddie’s hand and grinning up at him. 

Steve rattles off the introductions for each kid, like a proud mom, and Eddie greets each of them politely, but his eyes keep falling back on Steve. He catches his little smiles and the way he nudges different members of the Party, squeezes their shoulders, ruffles their hair. It’s gentle and sweet and it sends a warm feeling through Eddie’s chest. His smile softens as he watches their interactions. All too soon, Freak leans into the area they’ve gathered in and whistles.

“Shit, guys, we gotta go.” Jeff sighs, and Eddie pats his shoulder before he turns back to the group with a grin. 

“Just hang with Paige and try not to get into too much trouble, we’ll get drinks after?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve, who smiles back and gives a little nod.

As Eddie runs to catch up with Jeff and Freak, he wonders exactly what he’s gotten himself into here.

____

It’s more fun than Steve expects, the concert. The excitement of watching the show from the suite quickly bores the Party, as they realize it’s the same as watching hockey games from a guest box. They eat their snacks and drink some through the openers, but during the break before Corroded Coffin, Lucas and Dustin drag Steve around to the side stage. Robin promises to stay with the others, and reminds Steve to wear the earplugs. 

He’s grateful Paige had slipped them to him as they get beside the stage and he realizes just how loud the crowd is when the lights go down. From where they’re standing sidestage, he can see Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Freak in a little huddle. They bounce around with their arms around each others backs, before yelling something Steve can’t quite make out. They’re handed their instruments by the crew. As they’re taking the stage, Eddie walks up in their direction and pokes his tongue out at them, before ripping into a guitar riff to make his entrance. 

Despite himself, Steve finds his head bobbing along to the drum beat, and even sings along to the songs he recognizes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Eddie through the whole production. He’s a little ball of energy, bounding around from one end of the stage to the other, bantering with the other guys in the band and drawing the fans into his chaos during talking breaks. During a drum solo, Eddie climbs onto the front of the kit and holds his guitar up in the air over his head. Steve watches, mesmerized, as Eddie holds his gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds. Eddie winks at Steve, then, before he leaps back into yet another riff. It shouldn’t have had so much of an impact, but Steve finds it kind of takes his breath away.

It’s over before long, and Paige is quick to guide Steve and the boys back to the club box. He smiles as they walk behind Dustin and Lucas, gushing over how great the show was. Back in the box, Steve and Paige agree to meet across the street at Fatpour. He charms his way into using the upstairs as a private room with a signature to the manager and flashes a smile and wave to the few people downstairs who seem to have recognized him. 

The band makes a loud entrance as the Party works their way through appetizers, and Eddie is quick to find his way to Steve. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself, was it more fun than you expected?” He asks around a grin.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have a good time,” Steve defended through a smile, making Eddie laugh and Steve thinks that might be the best sound he’d heard all night, despite having just seen the concert. Eddie glances around then, locking eyes with a bartender to get their attention.

“What’s your poison?” Eddie asks in the most cliche way, wiggling his eyebrows a little, but Steve shakes his head.

“Strictly on water tonight. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says, and Eddie softens and nods. Once their drinks are in front of them, he holds his glass up to Steve in a mock toast.

“To making it the fuck out of Hawkins?”

“Cheers to that.” Steve laughs, clanking their glasses together and taking a sip.

“Any reason you stayed in the Midwest?” Eddie asks, before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t have to… you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Nah, it’s… a few reasons. Couldn’t go too far without them, and most of ‘em followed me here, anyway. And then the chips fell and I ended up on the Blackhawks and there’s kind of no other team I’d rather play for.” Steve explains, leaning a little closer to Eddie with a smile. “Speaking of; are you ready for the game?”

Eddie can’t help but grin back at Steve and laugh a little. “You know, I honestly have no idea what I’m getting in to here. All I remember from watching games on TV is that it’s violent.”

“Not always.” Steve defends quickly, before showing a slight mercy. “It’s cold in there, because of the ice. You’ll want to wear layers.”

“Layers. Noted.” Eddie stores the information away for tomorrow, suddenly concerned he hadn’t even thought about an outfit for the game before the conversation.

As they talk, Robin appears with a basket of cheese curds but pulls it away as Eddie reaches to take one. 

“What’s your favorite movie?” She asks, and Steve laughs and shakes his head at her.

“Is this a quiz? I’m not good at tests, I flunked out of senior year.” Eddie whines before he stops to think about it. “Uh, well. The answer you’d probably expect from me is Almost Famous, but it’s actually a close second to Dead Poets Society.” 

She narrows her eyes at him but slides the basket in his direction. “I can’t tell if you picked either of those because you thought it was the answer I wanted, or because they’re actually your favorite, so I have to give you curds.”

“They’re actually my favorites!” Eddie laughs around a mouthful of cheese curds.

“Dead Poets is one of Robin’s favorites, too.” Steve offers, and Robin nods.

“Steve will tell you his favorite movie is Risky Business, because he thinks Tom Cruise is hot, but it’s actually Go Figure. You know, the Disney movie about the ice skater who joins her school’s hockey—” Robin is grinning until Steve clasps a hand over her mouth.

“Robin is incredibly annoying when she wants to be,” He grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Well, now you’ve got my attention. If Go Figure isn’t your favorite movie, what is?” Eddie asks.

Steve thinks for a moment. “I think Back to the Future feels like a safe answer.” He shrugs, and Eddie glances at Robin to gauge her reaction. She seems to approve, as she gives Steve a soft smile, pats his back, then stands from their table.

“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose.” She says, leaning close to both of them. “Behave, got it? No funny business before the game.”

Steve flushes and flounders a little, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he just huffs and takes a sip from his water. While Eddie feels his whole face get hot in a blush, he can’t help but laugh a little.

“Is there funny business we could have gotten up to?” He dares to ask, and it’s worth it just to watch the way Steve blushes and bites at his lip. 

“Maybe. But I guess you’ve got to wait until after tomorrow’s game to find out.”

________________________________________________________

Wow! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support you’ve shown this little idea I had! I might just keep this going as a series, with updates on Mondays (Tuesdays at the latest). This is also double the word count of part 1, oops, lol.

I'm going to try to tag everyone in the replies because I hit the character limit! Tumblr wouldn't take them all, so sorry to everyone I missed, I still love you and appreciate the support!

[paperstorm]

Musician AU. Country singer!Carlos and Rockstar!TK. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. 15 chapters. First chapter posting tomorrow.

A snippet for WIP Wednesday:

TK sniffs and takes another sip, swallowing again before he looks back up and says, “Did Billy talk to you guys?”

“We said we’d talk to you first,” Nancy says. “If heading out on the road right now is too much, we won’t do it.”

TK wants to point out that it doesn’t seem like they have much choice in the matter. He wants to repeat some of the things he’d read in headlines on Billy’s computer. He wants to tell his band – his family – that he’ll never let them down again as long as he lives, and this rescheduled tour is his first step in proving it to them, whether he’s emotionally ready for it or not.

He doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, he grins at them and says, “Two hometown shows to start? Maybe a European leg if our fans haven’t completely ditched us? Sounds fun.”

“Are you sure?” Marjan asks.

“Hell yeah,” TK tells her. He’s not completely positive he means it, but he wants to mean it, and he figures that’s almost the same thing.

“Did Billy tell you about – ” Paul begins, and TK interrupts as he remembers.

“Oh my God, the country bumpkin that’s gonna open for us?”

“I don’t think he’s a bumpkin,” Marjan laughs. “I listened to a bunch of his songs, they’re good.”

“Not exactly similar to our sound.” Nancy smirks. “He’s hot, though. I went down a YouTube rabbit hole and it’s possible I’m in love. With him and his bass player, she’s hot, too.”

“They’re family friendly,” TK says, sinking back against the cushions. “Apparently that’s what the label wants, since I’m a liability, now.”

“Maybe it’ll be good, his fans will come and maybe like our music, too.”

“Are we gonna have to like … tone it down, though?” Nancy asks with her nose wrinkled. “Did Billy give you more info on what the label said?”

Rolling his eyes, TK asserts, “If he thinks we’re gonna stop being us on stage, he’s got another thing coming.”

“I know the two of you are not going to throw a wrench in this whole thing just because you won’t get to grind all nasty on stage anymore,” Paul tells them, eyes travelling back and forth between TK and Nancy and shaking his head fondly.

“Nobody even said anything about that, did they?” Marjan asks, and TK shakes his head. “Okay, so stop freaking out. Nobody’s saying we can’t be us. The fans are gonna show up to see our show, like they always do. Reyes and his band will just also attract a bunch of new faces. I don’t really see any downsides.”

“I guess,” TK concedes, understanding that on paper, she isn’t wrong. He still shares a look with Nancy overtop of Paul’s head, and can’t say he’s feeling any more certain about this than he was the other day when Billy informed him of it.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @ladytessa74

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[ajortga]

in what way?

pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader

summary: your ex girlfriend begins to regret leaving you when all she wanted to do was protect you. maybe she broke you more than she thought.

word count: 900+

based off request! i came across a reblog that said that i needed to make more tara fluff.. maybe next story?..

-

hello my love, I would like to know if you could do a one shot based on the song shut up my moms calling by hotel ugly, Tara x fem reader pls🙏

-

I just wanna rewind, I haven’t seen you in a long time

Ever since the ghostface incidents that fortunately, Tara has survived, she’s been avoiding you.

I mean, she knew you would never be ghostface, but whenever she was near you now she just felt like she shouldn’t. 

She shouldn’t be spending time with you when she was always a pain in the ass over ghostface. She still had that trauma that she knew a band-aid wouldn’t fix, her inner and outer scars may never heal. 

But she also knew she shouldn’t be avoiding you when you took a stab in your arm for her, you protected her, but you weren’t one of the core 4. What if you ended up like Anika? What if she failed to catch you when you fell? She was scared because she knew that if you ever died or even got a scratch on you, she wouldn’t be able to see the end of it. Nightmares haunted her every time she closed her eyes. It’s like she can’t even have a good option. Well except when she was hurled up to your neck as you snored softly on her chest.

Letting you go meant no cuddles and kisses at night, where she would actually be able to sleep peacefully without having any nightmares. There would be no more Friday nights with you. She wouldn’t be able to see you glance at her with these loving eyes you always did. She couldn’t bear seeing you look at her like you did at Chad or Mindy or Sam. You looked at her like she was Tara. Your Tara, your eyes go soft when you see her. She didn’t want to lose that. She loves you more than a heart's love. But if she keeps you with her, you’re at risk of being killed. You’re at risk of losing your life and Tara could never forgive herself. But you’ll be with her. You’ll be able to make her heart feel whole. What was more important? Keeping herself loved, or keeping you safe? Keeping your heart whole?.. Or breaking it?

“Gosh,” she groaned, she didn’t know. But she did know she was going to have to begin to stop seeing you so often.

A week in and she could feel it.

That isn’t you, so baby bring it in closely.

She felt your eyes trace her whenever she was in the room. She felt those soft eyes slowly grow dark, she knew you felt sad. Like you were waiting for her, silently knowing she might never come back to you. Tara doesn’t notice how you would blink your tears away that you had to cover your face and cry against your sleeves. She doesn’t know how if she only got a few hours of sleep because she slept without you, that you got none.

You got me feeling so lonely. 

Even with the hurt that has held in your heart, you didn’t want to go back to her because she broke up with you, it wasn’t the other way around. It would never be the other way around. You felt alone.

You’ve been acting like you hardly know me.

You didn’t know why, you still didn’t know why she began to fade from your life, but you didn’t want to make her life so hard. Maybe she dropped you because that’s what you did in the first place, make her days a mess. When really it’s the other way around, you made it whole. Tara felt the way your figure turned away from her whenever she was near, a simple switch of your heel when she was there and walked away as quickly as you could. You talked to everyone but her. 

You began to finally find back the solace that music brought. You used to wear them when Tara didn’t know you, you wore them over your neck all the time. But when you started dating her, music felt like it wasn’t necessary anymore. Why would you need it to listen to music when you could hear your girlfriend's sweet laughter and voice? It was better than a sweet melody. She brought you harmony.

You both missed each other. Your room was filled with her, polaroids in every picture hung up above your bed, three boxes filled with books you once read together, a cooking book you used to bake on free Sundays, jewelry. You never took it down, because you still loved her. You can’t stop loving someone. You just find someone else to love more. 

Tara regrets it, she thought it would be so easy, she thought it would’ve been better to know that you were going to be okay. But ghostface wasn’t here right now. She felt so numb. Ghostface was gone and it would take time before the next legacy would be sparked to life once again.

But she ignored you to protect you. 

And the thing was, she knew that she broke you more than she protected you. She wanted to take it back. Tara wished she could feel your warm body laying in the same sheets. Knowing that you were hurting more than she was. 

You and Tara made eye contact, you two looked at each other for a long moment, before brushing past each other like strangers in another life, tears falling gently down each other's faces. 

She could’ve taken you back, but what was there to fix if the heart was broken beyond repair?

Your heart raced whenever you saw her, but she felt it begin to slow, losing your hope.

She wanted you to heal, she didn't want to come back just to be told that you didn't want to see her face.

She didn't know.

Maybe she shouldn't come back.

Maybe she shouldn't come back home in your arms at all.

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (7)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 6 // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 7) — FROM DETROIT TO ST. PAUL

liked by yourinstagram, bestfriend, gemmastyles and 4,105 others 

thesecretfangirl “I have this dream to build my career surrounded by people who see me as a whole person and are actually interested in what I have to offer, so I’m trying my best to make it come true.”

I am beyond excited to announce that this week we’ll be joined by ＠yourinstagram to chat all about her journey to become a filmmaker, the repercussions of her latest youtube video, and the ups and downs of social media! 

If for any reason you still don’t know who I’m talking about, please check her youtube channel and get fascinated by her talent. Then join us tomorrow on Spotify for a new episode of “The Secret Fangirl Life” and fall in love with the incredible woman she is. 

I promise you won’t regret it!

view all 1,009 comments 

user27 omg what??  user19 SHUT UP  user17 the collab i never knew i needed  yourinstagram thank you so much for having me! i had the best time and you’re amazing ❤️ harryfan56 🤔 bestfriend i’m sooooo excited!! 

Sep 19, 2021. •

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liked by annetwist, lookitsnyoh, paulithepsm and 93,015 others 

yourinstagram just got back to the hotel after having the best time with the best people and i just wanna say thank you for allowing me to live this dream :) i dont take one single second for granted and i know wouldnt be here without you guys. so yeah, thanks.

view all 10,461 comments

user1 omg i cant wait to listen to ＠thesecretfangirl tomorrow 💗

↳ yourinstagram omg yes im so nervous about it i even forgot to mention that lol

harryfan3 you deserve every second <3

↳ yourinstagram thats so sweet of you to say thank you <3

bestfriend i miss hanging out with you cant wait to see you

↳ yourinstagram me neither ily i miss you

harryfan24 WAS HARRY WITH YOU?  harryfan48 When are you going to post another video??? user19 yn being equally casual and sexy on my feed 🔥 harryfan9 teach me how to be you pls 

↳ harryfan17 no bc i was thinking the exact same thing. i could’ve never pulled off a pic like this 😂 ↳ harryfan52 I still don’t get what’s the big deal tbh

loveynrry having the best time with the best people means having the best time with harry? 🥺

↳ harryfan13 probably :’) they’re always together ↳ harryfan56 actually they haven’t been seen together in a while. She only keeps being vague about it so people like you think she’s with him. You’re welcome. 

user6 Love to see that you’re having fun!  harryfan70 deuxmoi just posted a picture of harry having dinner with a blond girl so i think we can all laugh at your dumb attempts to mislead people

Sep 19, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan26, harryfan34 and 183 others

harryupdates Harry out for dinner tonight in Detroit (via deuxmoi) 

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harryfan6 he took off the mask, took off the jacket… What’s coming off next? lol harryfan11 okay ngl i’m confused guys harryfan19 tbh i dont know how i feel about the idea of harry going out for dinner with a girl thats not yn  harryfan35 this means yn wasn’t hanging out with him? 🥺 harryfan21 Unbelievable. So he was obsessing over Yn up until last week and now he’s fully invested in this other girl? C’mon. harryfan58 😂 Let’s wait and see how this “mystery girl” is connected to the industry and watch her get famous just like Yn did  harryfan27 I don’t like deuxmoi blinds about this :(

↳ harryfan29 yeah i dont trust deuxmoi but idk they really made it seem like he was on a date and i honestly don’t get it ↳ harryfan31 not only that but they also hinted that yn and him broke up? :(  ↳ harryfan32 I mean they were never dating in the first place so idk how they could’ve had broken up lol but okay i guess ↳ harryfan38 deuxmoi didn’t say they broke up. she said “Harry and Yn started realizing they weren’t on the same page about the way she’s handling things so they took a step back from each other”.  ↳ harryfan15 there’s absolutely nothing that will make me believe any of this.

Sep 19, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan, user1 and 39 others

ynupdates Hello! 

We created this account because we think ＠yourinstagram deserves to have a place where her achievements are celebrated. So from now on we’ll be posting updates on her career and also sharing information about her projects. 

👉 We will respect Yn’s privacy and keep her face out of any pictures/videos. 

👉 Hate won’t be tolerated and people with disrespectful comments will be blocked. 

🌸 Also, Yn was a guest on ＠thesecretfangirl podcast and the episode is out NOW! We’re working on writing down some parts of the interview, but the entire thing is incredible and worth the listen, so head out to Spotify if you haven’t yet! 

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harryfan I love this!  user17 😍😍 where is this picture from? I haven’t seen it before! 

↳ ynupdates it’s an old ig post of hers :) 

ynrryfan omg yesssss the interview was so cute :’) the way she talks about harry <3 

↳ user7 what does she say about him? Can’t listen to the whole thing right now 😔 ↳ ynrryfan she mentions they clicked since the moment they met and how much she admires him! 

user9 Yn being the sweetest talking about being on tour while he’s out there with some other girl. Classic man behavior. 

↳ harryfan5 we don’t know who that girl is. Could be a friend, could be work related.  ↳ user9 Either way, I just want my girl to be left alone 🤷‍♀️

Sep 19, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan3, user9 and 103 others

ynupdates Here it is! ＠yourinstagram on ＠thesecretfangirl podcast talking about Harry Styles’ team reaching out to her, working with Molly Hawkins, and being invited to join the LOT! (1/3)

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harryfan harry watching her videos and then having his team reach out <3 user5 i love how she praises molly and then keeps bringing her up here and then during the interview. it shows how little we know about the people she hangs out with!  user17 omg you’re doing the lords work with this posts I LOVE YOU

Sep 20, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan9, user13 and 91 others

ynupdates ＠yourinstagram on ＠thesecretfangirl podcast talking about the Love on Tour project and Youtube. (2/3)

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user3 when she said she doesn’t know if she’ll post on youtube again my heart lowkey shattered ngl 😭

↳ iloveyn Right? Like I get what she meant especially when she mentioned she’s trying to step into something bigger and doesn’t want to overwork herself but I miss her content :( ↳ user11 I mean it makes sense… she never wanted to be a youtuber, she wants to be a filmmaker 

harryfan19 so what are we thinking? LOT movie? 🤔

Sep 20, 2021. •

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liked by bestfriend, user1 and 123 others

ynupdates ＠yourinstagram on ＠thesecretfangirl podcast talking about tabloids, rumors, and how she’s trying to protect herself and her career. (3/3)

To listen to the entire thing, head over to spotify. We’ll be posting more parts through the week, but the 43 minutes of interview is definitely worth the listen. 

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harryfan19 thank you so much for posting this user11 i love how happy she was during the whole thing and yet when it got to this part you could tell things changed and even her voice changed ynrryfan harry hired me bc he believed in my work HAS ME ON THE FLOOR harryfan MY BABY GOT ALL PROTECTIVE OVER MY OTHER BABY  harryfan5 this woman is EVERYTHING

↳ user25 for real tho. ＠harrystyles don’t be a fool n stop messing around CMON

Sep 20, 2021. •

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liked by harryfan23, harryfan37 and 1,245 others

lotflorals Harry posing for a picture tonight #lotdetroit (via fanattheshow)

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harryfan he’s so adorable stoppppp ynrryfan pls ＠yourinstagram i beg you release that footage PLEASE harryfan26 Why is everyone saying he was posing for Yn?

↳ harryfan19 bc we were there and we saw it happening  ↳ harryfan26 Oh, okay. 

Sep 20, 2021. •

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liked by bestfriend, harrystyles, mollyjane_x and 107,574 others 

yourinstagram a few days ago i had the pleasure to sit in front of ＠thesecretfangirl for the most comfortable and easy interview thats ever been done (not that ive been interviewed more than three times, but you get what i mean) (i hope). it was nerve-wracking to take this step and talk about some of those things, but im glad i did so. as someone who loves to tell stories, it hasnt been easy to see other people trying to tell mine so carelessly and disrespectfully. for days, ive been torn between saying something or shutting my mouth. ive been also sad. confused. angry. ive argued. ive cried. ive rolled my eyes. ive asked for advice. ive taken some time to myself to think. and even after all that, i still dont know what the best thing to do would be, but what i know is that i have never — EVER — told a story without consent. ive never talked about a person without making sure i wouldnt twist the facts, or that i wouldnt hurt their feelings by adding my own perspective as a storyteller. and yet the things that have been told about me werent told with my consent. truths and lies were intentionally intertwined without worry about what the consequences could be. and trust was broken in order to make temporary profit over something that was nothing but cheap gossip. so, in the end, i decided i wouldnt correct the narrative, because i dont want THAT to be my story. i want my story to be the one i decide to share about myself. which is why i said yes and sat down for a chat with such a lovely, fun and respectful girl. the episode is available on spotify. i hope you enjoy it (and that i didnt embarrass myself) <3 

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user1 you’re so sweet i wish i could give you a hug <3 mollyjane_x You are one of my favorite people, too 🥰 lookitsnyoh ❤️ bestfriend ❤️ harryfan21 you’re so polite and kind when you could just say fuck off to everyone lol  harryfan im forever happy i found your youtube channel  user34 girl why so long i cant read that much without falling asleep lol harryfan68 if you didn’t want people talking about you you shouldn’t have joined the biggest tour in the world :D  harryfan26 release harrys picture please we beg you user45 okay but… do you have a bf or not? 😭 WHY DONT YOU JUST SAY IT

↳ iloveyn3 You didn’t listen to the podcast, did you? Lol go listen and you’ll find out the answer

ynrryfan HARRY LIKED THE POST ynrryfan sorry i got excited but ily <3 annetwist Sweet girl ❤️  user17 your laughter is sooo contagious! Listened to the whole thing with a smile on my face :))))

Sep 21, 2021. •

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liked by lookitsnyoh, bestfriend, annetwist and 103,514 others 

yourinstagram love on tour takes over st paul

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harryfan LETS GOOOOOOOO harryfan15 the love band :’) THEY ARE ALL FRIENDS I LOVE IT user3 sightseeing post ✔️  bestfriend feel like you should be wearing a matching outfit too

↳ harryfan58 she’s not in the band tho ↳ bestfriend thank you but i didnt ask 😙 ↳ user7 lol you tell them

harryfan23 why isnt harry in the pic :(((((( harryfan31 did harry get you those flowers????

↳ yourinstagram i got them myself for myself <3 ↳ ynrrylover 👀 ↳ ynrryfan not her shutting down the rumors bf they even started lol ↳ harryfan17 why so quick to deny tho? 😭 ↳ harryfan38 trouble in paradise……. 

Sep 22, 2021. •

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— — — — — 

PART 8 — CHICAGO (soon)

— — — — —

Tag list: @gem1712 @metanoiablxxm @namelesssreaderrr @ameerakane20 @cuddlyklaus @violacavs520 @hannah9921 — PLEASE READ: I’ll only add to the next tag list those who interact with this post. I hope you understand, thank you for your excitement.

[randomestdweller]

A/N: i think I’ve fallen victim to the A03 writers curse as I dropped my beautiful computer down the stairs early this week. Anyways I hope yall enjoy a nice slow burn because I was 3500 words in like “I STILL HAVEN’T ADDED THE SMUT.” I think I did dumbification justice here but lmk ofc. Anyways this will be on A03 soon enough.

Office hours

Warnings: Dumbification, DubCon, Power Imbalances, cruel Zhongli lowkey, Spanking, Degradation. Lmk if I missed anything ❤️

Make sure to study chapters 9-10, 13, and 14 in your Geography Book and come prepared to discuss your findings next class.

Yeah right, if only the reading was comprehensible! The paragraphs about climatology jumbled together before flying off the pages, toward different corners of your room.

You’d studied so hard that when you squinted your eyes, it didn’t provide you with a clearer look, but instead blurred further. Only when you blink rapidly would the fog temporarily dissipate from view. At this point, you were one eye rub away from convincing yourself that this was a visual impairment, not a school related mental breakdown.

And that wasn’t the worst of it, your hands had begun to cramp from gripping your highlighter or pen while you frantically tried to write to retain some of the knowledge. That’s when you knew things were going downhill.

And to the surprise of no one, that didn’t work.

What was once a well organized notebook was now filled with scribbles or yellow streaks— and occasionally tears— as you continued to hunch over your desk.

You were— are a good student. B average, nice scholarship, advanced placement, everything had been going nicely but a stupid geography had been your downfall.

You didn’t intend on doing anything related to the subject when you took the class, and you surely weren’t now that you had a taste of the stress, but you had signed up for the class with a bit of peer pressure from your friends.

It was easy they said, we’d see each other more they claimed. If you could go back in time, you would warn yourself that only the latter was true, and only for a while anyway.

The first day of class in the crowded auditorium, you’d secured a plush seat with your group of friends. You’d figure the class would be easy enough, you’d taken a handle full of history classes through high school and now college.It didn’t hurt that Professor Zhongli was easy on the eyes—and the ears. His deep, rumbling voice paired with sharp hazel eyes was enough to distract you. And then there was that long ponytail, somehow managing to look both professional and a little magical when it caught the light. Oh, and an empty ring finger.

Honestly, if the whole teaching thing didn’t work out for him, envisioning Zhongli as a model wasn’t hard.

Everything started out fine. The first quiz had been easy enough, based on the contents of the syllabus Mr Zhongli passed out on the first day of classes.

After that, the harder stuff started. Climatology, Geomorphology, Hydrology, every single horrific

topic, that you couldn’t comprehend. The first couple class days, you would joke around with your friends, listen to music, anything else but study in the designated time. Your teacher however, never said anything, never called on you to answer a question, read aloud, nothing. If you doubted before he knew your name, you were sure he didn’t know it now.

When the second test came around, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, not only by not taking the class seriously but actually signing up for the class in the first place. A fat F, circled in red ink, rested at the top of your paper. When your friends sports low to mid A’s and B’s, you knew something had to give. And apparently the solution was simpler than you’d thought, as written in neat handwriting below the F was a note.

Perhaps you should try sitting up front, away from potential distractions.

Maybe instead of blindly signing up for the class you should have looked his name up on ratemyprofessor, even now you wanted to leave a scathing review on his surprisingly perfect record.

The paper was promptly balled up and thrown into a small corner of your room, probably next to your syllabus.

How utterly ridiculous. If he could notice you getting distracted during his lecture, he could also realize that you had stopped talking to your friends in class a long time ago.

But that wasn’t the real problem anyways, and you knew it. His class was too hard. It was deadline after deadline after deadline, whether it be of assigned reading, essays, peer review, and God forbid you attempted the extra credit.

There was bonus work to boost your grade so

of course you didn’t expect the work to be easy but hard was a true gross understatement.

The directions were simple enough, do this, this, this, a little more of that, and this again. As expected of a college course, but how could you manage to do all of that if you couldn’t finish— let alone understand the work you were actually required to do.

Soon enough though, you tossed your pride aside and moved to the front of the class. And true to his advice, you had been able to comprehend more, not a lot more, but something was better than nothing.

And it seemed he noticed too, his eyes began to actually find yours in class and his smile seemed genuine too. A polite, encouraging grin that never ceased to make your efforts seem worth it.

The next test, however, reminded you of your standing in the class. A cursive D+ sat like a black hole on the front of your quiz packet. Progress like that was truly no progress at all.

If you hadn’t already wasted water crying during the test itself, you would have broken down when he returned the paper to you. Face down.

With the actual exam coming up, you knew you needed to see Mr Zhongli in person. Under no circumstances could you fail this class, even if it didn’t help you further your career you still couldn’t flunk it. Lest you want to lose your scholarship.

The bag crossed over your chest, felt extra heavy as you trekked to Zhongli’s office. Maybe it was the computer, or the spiral notebook, but most likely it was the 319 page Geography book buried somewhere inside it. The physical copy was paid for by your scholarship but the online copy was not and being the broke College student you were, it definitely was not affordable.

Your knuckles brushed against the oak door, below the golden name plate that read Dr Morax. The name seriously fit him, it sounded just as professional as he was.

After a firm come in you found yourself inside his medium sized office.

He gave you time to take in your surroundings, multiple diplomas of varying degrees and schools hung on the cream walls. The wooden desk that separated you two was an organized mess, numerous stacks of papers, some graded, some not. Other nicks nacks were neatly placed on the desk, the school mascot bobblehead, newton's cradle, a small wooden globe, the things usually expected to see on a teacher's desk. This room was definitely bigger than most professors work spaces than you had seen.

“Please take a seat,” Mr Zhongli motioned to one of the plush seats in front of his desk. His own position was relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, hands folded neatly on his lap, one of his long legs sat draped over another. His slim ponytail was draped over his white button down, so long that it almost reached down to the black slacks he wore.

“Nice of you to finally stop by.”

Now that felt underhanded. Your eyes snapped up to him ready to say something back, but the words died in your throat at his look. HIs gaze was half lidded while he sported a lopsided smile that bordered on a smirk.

“Finally?” You sank into the seat, dropping your satchel onto the hardwood floor beside you with a sigh.

“Oh yes, your grade in my class is far from satisfactory.” Zhongli’s grin became tight while he spoke. The once playful glint in his eyes was taken over by a serious demeanor. Professor Zhongli.

You shifted forward, crossing your own legs to mimic his attitude.

“Yes sir, I’m sure you figured that’s why I’m here,” your voice sounded a lot more pathetic than you expected it to. It reminded you of the one time in high school when you begged your PE teacher to let you skip the FitnessGram Pacer test.

Let’s just say the second worst grade you’ve ever gotten was gym.

“I do,” Zhongli drawled, he now placed his arms on the desk, one hand remaining still while another gripped a pencil, “but truly, I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you.”

That was not what you had wanted nor expected to hear and your face reflected that. The whole wide-eyed mouth open shabang.

Zhongli released a breathy laugh at your expression, "there's nothing I can do for you but I believe you could help yourself.”

The anger you felt at his first dig was now bubbling back up, with more force. How many times could someone slyly insult you in one sitting?

¨And how could I do that sir?” Zhongli matched your attitude, pushing himself fully under the desk. His expression remained pleasant though, a nice albeit thin smile stretched across his face.

¨You could start by actually paying attention in class.”

Really? Like you hadn't just moved your seat to sit in the front of the class, mind you, BY YOURSELF. And all he had to offer is that your focus was still waning, it was though, only because you had the sexiest teacher ever though. Not from lack of effort on your part, so it’s not like it was truly your fault to start with.

Zhongli patiently waited for you to begin a retort before cutting you off with a demeaning wave of his hand, ¨Yes, yes, you moved. Like you should have from the start, you don't get a high five for doing what is expected of you. What I’d like to know is why you still struggle in my class, it’s definitely not from lack of opportunity.”

¨I assign plenty of extra credit, so I’m assuming it's not that.” Zhongli’s eyes flickered down, no not to your hidden bust, but to an open planner on his desk, before they met yours again. ¨Perhaps you should consider dropping my class.”

That finally made you bristle, visibly too, your eyes widened again as you recoiled. His words might as well have physically struck you. Being a good student meant that most teachers never had to criticize you, let alone act so sharp. His Zhongli’s blunt statements hurt in a way only a prideful student like you could feel.

You needed to act unbothered and hopefully, get under his skin too. Fixing your face into something a bit more stoic you started again.

“Doesn’t it reflect badly on a Professor if they have failing students?” You found your nails to be more interesting than meeting Zhongli’s intense gaze, his eyes seemed alight from the fierce way he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was a throaty laugh from him, that pulled you from your nail inspection.

“Students, yes. One singular student, not so much.”

Negotiations had definitely fallen through.

Outwitting people was something you were good at. One thing that hurts more than having your ego bruised is having it body slammed when you find out you're not as good at something as you believed yourself to be.

Reading your reaction Zhongli chuckled again, “oh dear, not the answer you wanted was it?”

Your eyes couldn’t lift from the floor now, but even that served as a constant reminder of the stage you were hoping to walk on. Before any of this happened.

Zhongli’s voice pierced the silence, “Well, I have some time to help you study now, is that fine with you?”

Really there was only one choice, but you contemplated both regardless. You needed his help to bring up your grade and hopefully pass the upcoming exam but also, you didn’t want him to belittle you any further.

Maybe you could study on your own. In high school you reviewed for biology tests using the Amoeba Sisters. Did they even have anything like that for geography though?

When you found the courage to meet Zhongli’s eyes again, now lounging in his chair with his hands braced behind his head. Your ears tinted pink when you saw his lips, still in a smirk but not as wide.

Maybe you could deal with his taunting for an hour or two. For your grade of course! Not because he was gorgeous or anything. Although it helped.

“Fine,” decided to lighten the mood a bit you added, “hopefully you’re better at this than in class.”

Zhongli let out a breathy laugh while he leaned further back in his chair to glance at the clock. “Perhaps, though you may find my teaching methods unconventional.”

“Oh?” You dug into your satchel to find your textbook, “how so?”

Zhongli crossed his arms in front of himself before releasing a thoughtful groan, one that had your pupils blow open a fraction wider. “How about I quiz you, and for each question you get wrong..”

His gaze flickered from the sky of contemplation to you, “I could use a more… tactical approach. Like consequence and reward.”

As his smirk seemed to stretch, the air in the office became heavier. You blinked, believing you were imagining his suggestive voice.

“Consequence?” It’s not like your grade could get much lower so what could he do to harm you?

The pause that followed was thick with unspoken meaning, you didn’t dare move either. You were frozen in the plush chair, pinned by Zhongli’s half lidded stare.

“For each wrong answer, I could bend you over my knee and spank you.”

You blinked, then blinked again. Did he really just say that so calmly? Like he asked you to make a batch of flashcards. Heat rose to your already rosey cheeks, and you quickly looked away, feeling your heartbeat just a bit faster.

“You can’t be serious!”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a straightforward form of discipline, it may even work on you.” The way he said the word you sent a chill down your spine. The word felt heavier, like he was implying that even someone of your caliber could understand.

You swallowed, hard. But you didn’t stand up from the chair, nor did you threaten to report him. Instead you stayed seated and actually considered his suggestion.

“What if I get the answers right?”

You seemed to be endless entertainment to Zhongli as he laughed again before retorting, “as unlikely as that maybe, we can come up with a suitable reward if that happened.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you completely ignored the ruder side of this comment.

Zhongli leaned in slightly as he gestured to the study materials laid out on his desk, “shall we begin? Or are you not going to be attentive enough again?”

He was challenging you, skillfully he goaded you

into playing his game, to participate in something where you both knew you were likely to lose. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused you to act so desperate. If you told on him now, you could probably drop the class without it being on your record, but a deeper desire helped guide your answer.

“I can focus,” you said, a little sharper than you had intended, “what’s the first question?”

Zhongli reached for the discarded textbook on his desk, flipping to a random page towards the middle. His smirk deepened as he read over the line.

“This is something we went over in class rather recently. Describe the process of orographic precipitation.”

Before you could catch yourself, your face fell. Your mind had blanked on you. And given the cruel grin Zhongli bore, he knew you wouldn’t know the answer.

Even though you vaguely remembered the name written on the board in class, the words didn’t arrange themselves in your head for you to create a clear answer with.

“I don’t remember,” you quickly added before Zhongli could speak, “this isn’t fair, you knew I wouldn’t know this.”

“I just opened the book, I didn’t choose the page at all.” His smug tone was nothing to match the satisfacted grin proudly stretched across his face.

“I also just mentioned we went over this in class so maybe it’s not any fault of mine anyway.”

No use in arguing with him especially because you did somewhat recall him going over it.

“Next question.”

For five whole minutes, Zhongli asked you question after question. Each of which you got pitifully wrong. As time went on you itched for Zhongli to end this sadistic game, which he was no doubt dragging out. Maybe to humiliate you, or maybe to tally up each incorrect answer and actually hit you for each of them.

Your face began to blush at the possibility of him actually spanking you. He probably only said it to get under your skin and hopefully get better results. If that was the case, you’d be very disappointed but also relieved, you didn’t want to get hit that much.

“—paying attention.”

“Latitude!” You exclaimed before shrinking in on yourself. You knew for a fact that the answer to whatever question he asked that ended in paying attention was definitely not latitude and nor would an answer be so simple with him.

Suddenly Zhongli stood up, dropping the textbook closed back onto his desk. His expression was somewhat pleased but also very annoyed. Once he reached your side of the desk, he grasped your wrist, pulling you to your feet. And with a gentle yet steady hold, he guided you to his side where he once again sat down, only to look up at you expectantly.

Zhongli’s black trousers made it hard to see any depth in his pants, but from the visible bulge you could make an educated guess on how he was feeling.

“Must I spell everything out for you? Lower your pants and bend knees over my legs.”

Face falling again, you tried to ask why that was necessary before Zhongli cut in with a sigh.

“How will I know it truly hurts if I’m not hitting your skin?”

That was almost a logical explanation if it wasn’t so sadistic. Your face must have been bright red with embarrassment as you unbuttoned your slacks. His honey eyes tracked your every move, as you lowered the fabric down your legs, then stepped out of them all together.

Feeling a bit relieved at your choice of black underwear, and not your hot pink ones, you slowly draped yourself across Zhongli’s lap.

Only a few seconds ago, you were speculating on if Zhongli was actually hard or not but now you could tell he was as his erection poked your waist.

You could feel his heat from his palm warming your plush flesh as he rubbed small circles on your ass above your underwear.

Then came the first hit. A sharp pain stretched across both mounds of soft tissue, the ache rippled down your legs and to your toes. Rebelliously, you bit your lip to hide any noises of discomfort or the subtle pleasure.

“Oh? After being shown just how pathetic you are, you refuse to even take your punishment correctly?”

The hand Zhongli had used to hold you flush against his lap, slipped to your face and squeezed your nose shut. In shock, you opened your mouth to protest but before you could, a much harder slap landed against your ass. A loud cry of pain— definitely not pleasure, tumbled from your lips.

Heavy tears traveled down your face and wet Zhongli’s pants.

“Two hits and you’re already crying?” He softly kneaded the skin before slapping it again, “no matter, I assumed if you weren’t good at school you’d be good at this.”

“But I am good at school! It’s just your stupid class—.”

A slap rang out in the room as Zhongli delivered the harshest slap yet. This time he didn’t rub the skin, instead he lifted you off his lap and placed you on the cold hardwood floor of his office. The coolness soothed your burning bottom.

“You may surprise me yet with some skill.”

You took only a second to wipe your tears before you heard the sound of Zhongli removing his belt. Instinctively, self preservation won because you scrambled back, hitting your head on the edge of Zhongli’s desk in the process. But shockingly enough, he didn’t wrap it around his hand to hit you harder.

Instead he placed it on the desk as he worked on undoing his slacks button and zipper. Once he finished that, Zhongli reached into his pants to pull out his penis.

Truth be told, you weren’t a prude, you’d had sexual encounters before, none that went past giving or receiving oral sex but still. Zhongli’s dick was pretty too though, a thick underside vein ran from the scrotum to his tip. The head itself was flushed, apparently the blush he lacked on his face his cock made up for.

Still, the size itself was impressive, you couldn’t tell how long it was but at least your fist and a half.

From the angle you sat on the floor at, you couldn’t tell if he had any hair but you doubted a man as well kept as Zhongli would be anyways.

Suddenly his hands shot out and grabbed you under your arms, turning you around and placing him on his lap. In this position his thighs rested between yours.

“I had considered making you suck me off when you eventually did come to see me about your grade but to think you were such an… abysmal student, we’ll just do this for now.”

Zhongli lifted your ass before sliding your panties to the side and thumbing your clit.

“You couldn’t even take your punishment honorably, not that I expected you too anyways..”

Zhongli droned on as he rubbed same circles on your pearl. Though you hadn’t heard a single word he said, not that you had the capacity to do so anyhow, his fingers skillfully manipulated you to putty in the man’s hands. His middle finger slipped to your entrance as he began to lethargically massage your g-spot.

You had heard of that area but, you nor your previous partners had been able to stimulate it the same way Zhongli was now.

Reached a new height as he introduced another finger, further pressing into the velvety zone.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been touched in so long that you came so quickly but it happened regardless. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave as Zhongli allowed you to ride it out. The pleasure was kin to a hot shower (that you would definitely be taking once this was over with) after a long day. One of those showers that you sit in the tub and let the water trickle down from your hair to your toes.

Once the pleasure was over though, it was done completely. Zhongli removed his hands before pushing you down into the desk, half of your face buried into a stack of ungraded papers. His hand pressed down between your shoulder blades effectively pinning you to the wood.

You heard the chair roll behind you as Zhongli stood up, his penis slipping in between your folds.

“Now that you’ve had your pleasure, I will be taking mine.”

Without further warning, Zhongli began to pierce you, inch by inch he sunk deeper in your quim. He wasn’t rough, nor was he forceful as he pressed on. His hand still remained placed on your back but his other trailed down your side before grabbing your hip and pulling you back onto him. So now not only was he entering you, he was pulling you back to meet him halfway.

Your lower body ached at the intrusion, as low moans of pain and contentment left you. It felt weird to be filled up like this but also so natural. Now you hated not going further than oral sex with anyone else.

When Zhongli was completely inside you, he stopped moving to sigh, “truly made for this. If all were to fail, you could always sell yourself. I’m sure you’d make a nice sum of mora.”

Words of protest were turned into lewd moans as Zhongli began to grind into you, not not thrusting but slowly rolling his hips. Remembering your setting you bit your lip again, in hopes of not drawing unwanted attention.

“Don’t,” Zhongli began to pick up the pace, no longer rocking but instead coming all the way out before pounding back into you, hitting that special sponge inside you. “Everyone has already left for the day.”

Your gasp was turned into a high pitched moan as Zhongli rammed into you particularly hard. Him knowing that no one was there let you know just how in control of the situation Zhongli was, with that came a shocking revelation. He probably planned this all along.

You weren’t given anymore time to think about that possibility as Zhongli slightly lifted your chest from the desk. Now that one of his hands no longer had to hold you down, it wrapped around to toy with your nipple.

The harsh pulling on the soft nub brought out more yells from you as he didn’t relent of his intent to bully his way into your womb.

“Look at you,” Zhongli cooed, “drooling on yourself.”

Although his words were embarrassing, they didn’t register in your mind as you tried to bounce in tandem with his thrusts. At least you attempted to before his grip on your hip tightened in warning.

That hand also slipped to the front and sloppily rubbed your clit, leaving you to support your rocking weight on unsteady arms. The sound of his hips meeting your sore ass sent resounding sharp claps into different corners of the room.

It felt like hours upon hours of Zhongli’s grunting in your ear, the sudden sharp pain shooting up your spine from your butt, him pinching your sensitive nipple.

Now his movements were a bit choppy as, you assumed, Zhongli was close to reaching his orgasm. As opposed to traveling faster, his cock was going deeper, looking to bury its head in your cushiony womb. Merely seconds before him, you came. A second mind numbing euphoria, almost as rich as the last one covered you like a heated blanket. Your eyes squeezed closed as you were captured in bliss.

Just as sudden as it had started, it ended, as Zhongli emptied himself inside you. After a few seconds of his warm seed spurting inside you. The room was still hot with both of your gasps as Zhongli’s musky cologne permeated your senses from behind you.

Following your shared daze, he pulled out of you, allowing his semen to also drip onto the floor. You collapsed face first onto your geography textbook. Behind you, Zhongli’s leather seat creaked as he fell onto the chair. The sound of a draw opening made you aware enough to open your eye a little bit.

Zhongli's fingers came into view as he held a small tablet, “It’s a plan b.”

Opening your mouth to allow him to place the pill on your tongue you shut your eye again. You wanted the moment to never end, the nerve damaging pleasure you experienced tonight was truly life changing, but your momentary reprieve was ruined by the sound of Zhongli redoing his pants. In the midst of cleaning himself up, he rubbed up and down your back gently.

“You’re earned an A for the quarter by the way.”

~

Quick end note. Do you think Zhongli have a plan b implies that he’s done this before or that he prepared for you really well?

[geotjwrs]

Could you maybe do one where Jenna and Reader are working on Wednesday season 1 (They’re just friends but both like each other and haven’t told the other yet) and Percy (or literally anyone else) flirts with Jenna a bit, which makes Reader jealous. Jenna doesn’t notice at all how jealous Reader gets but their friends notice and eventually when Jenna is talking about Reader saying she wishes Reader felt the same way she feels about her the friends just straight up tell her about how jealous Reader gets, calling Jenna just blind cause it was very very obvious.

Jenna realises and confronts reader about it, not sure what could happen from there but yeah

Anyways I love your work you’re like one of my fave writers on here!! ❤️❤️

can't you see me

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The set of "Wednesday" was buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle of filming. Jenna and Y/N had become close friends since the start of production. They shared jokes, late-night talks, and a deep connection that neither dared to label as more than friendship.

During a break, Percy Hynes White strolled over to Jenna, exuding his usual charm. Y/N watched from a distance, his stomach twisting as Percy leaned in closer, his body language oozing flirtation.

"Hey, Jenna," Percy said with a grin, his eyes locked on hers. "After this, how about dinner? I know a great place."

Jenna giggled, twirling a strand of her hair. "That sounds nice, Percy. Maybe we can invite the whole cast."

Percy's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Sure, the more, the merrier."

Jenna and Percy continued to chat, their conversation filled with laughter and playful touches. Y/N clenched his fists, trying to appear unaffected. Emma, who was nearby, gave him a knowing look.

"Dude, you're like an open book," Emma whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N muttered, eyes still fixed on Jenna and Percy.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You're jealous. It's obvious. Why don't you just tell Jenna how you feel?"

Y/N sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "It's not that simple, Emma. We're just friends. She doesn't feel that way about me."

Emma smirked. "If you say so. But I think you're the one who's blind here."

Over the next few days, Y/N started to distance himself from Jenna. He avoided long conversations, kept his interactions professional, and immersed himself in his work. Jenna noticed the change and felt a pang of hurt and confusion.

"Y/N, do you want to run lines?" Jenna asked one afternoon, approaching him with her usual bright smile.

Y/N glanced up, forcing a smile. "Actually, I need to go over my scene with the director. Maybe later?"

Jenna's smile faded slightly, but she nodded. "Sure, later then."

As the days passed, Y/N's distance became more pronounced. He spent more time alone, listening to music in his trailer, and avoiding any situation where he might see Jenna with Percy.

One evening, after filming wrapped, Jenna decided she couldn't take it anymore. She headed to Y/N's trailer, determined to find out what was going on. She found him inside, earphones in, listening to Clairo's "Bags."

"Y/N," Jenna said, knocking softly before entering.

Y/N looked up, quickly pulling out his earphones. "Hey, Jenna. What's up?"

Jenna took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk."

Y/N's smile faded, concern flickering in his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Jenna nodded, stepping closer. "No, it's not. You've been so distant lately. Did I do something wrong?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not you, Jenna. It's just... complicated."

Jenna frowned, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Complicated? You've been avoiding me, Y/N. We used to be so close, and now you barely talk to me."

Y/N looked away, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I just needed some space."

"Space?" Jenna echoed, her voice rising. "From what? From me?"

Y/N clenched his fists, feeling the anger and frustration boiling over. "From seeing you with Percy, okay? I can't stand watching you two together."

Jenna blinked, taken aback. "Percy? We're just friends, Y/N. Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because I like you, Jenna!" Y/N shouted, his voice cracking. "I've liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him... it hurts. Can't you see me, Jenna? I'm right here."

The room fell silent, the weight of Y/N's confession hanging in the air. Jenna stared at him, her mind racing as she processed his words.

"Y/N," she said softly, stepping closer. "I had no idea. I've been so blind. I thought... I thought you only saw me as a friend."

Y/N looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair. "I didn't want to ruin what we had. I thought it was better to stay silent."

Jenna reached out, taking his hand in hers. "You didn't ruin anything, Y/N. I feel the same way. I've been too scared to say anything, but... I really like you too."

Y/N's eyes lit up with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. "Really?"

Jenna nodded, her smile bright and genuine. "Really."

From that day forward, the dynamic between Y/N and Jenna shifted. They were still the same playful friends, but now, there was an added layer of affection and understanding. During scenes, their chemistry was undeniable, drawing admiration from the cast and crew.

One day, while filming a particularly intense scene, Jenna and Y/N found themselves holding hands longer than necessary. The director noticed but didn't say anything, smiling to himself. During breaks, they would steal moments together, sharing quiet conversations and secret smiles.

As the final scenes of "Wednesday" wrapped up, the cast and crew gathered for a small celebration. Jenna and Y/N found a quiet corner, away from the noise.

"I can't believe it's over," Jenna said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Y/N smiled softly. "It's just the beginning for us, Jenna."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Yeah, it is."

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part four

Felix has a lot on his mind.

MASTERPOST word count: 3.2k

“Hey, Felix, are you even listening?”

A hand waved in front of Felix’s face, jerking him back to reality. 

His three friends stared at him, the four of them seated in a booth of a local restaurant. Felix blinked several times, momentarily shoving away the uncomfortable memory of a tiny heartbeat thudding against his finger.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just zoned out for a sec.” He forced himself to laugh, beginning to pick absentmindedly at his food. The cozy setting of the restaurant helped to ease his stress somewhat, but his stomach still continued to squirm.

His friend that had addressed him— Alice— just snickered and said, “Honestly, Felix, you’ve been acting so weird lately.” Her dark eyelashes fluttered in amusement, peering at him from across the booth.

To Felix’s left, Breanna nodded, a finger twirling one of her long dark braids. “Yeah. What’s going on with you?”

As three pairs of eyes stared at him, Felix chewed his lip. “Um…”

He hadn’t told anyone about Pepper, aside from his soulmate, who had seemed to be just as shocked as he was to learn about the existence of tiny men living in the walls. His soulmate was actually the one to suggest that Felix keep his discovery a secret. 

As much as he longed to tell his friends about that crazy incident three days ago, he didn’t want to sound completely insane. Honestly, he was wondering if he had imagined the whole thing.

“He’s probably just worried about The Little Mermaid auditions,” Owen suggested, giving Felix a toothy smile from across the table. “He really wants to be Prince Eric.” He raised his voice in a mocking royal tone, lifting a finger.

(Owen didn’t do theater, unlike Felix, Alice, and Breanna. He just liked hanging out with them.) 

Felix exhaled. “Yeah, that’s exactly it,” he lied, grateful to have an excuse for his distant behavior. “I’m super nervous. I’d really like to get a lead.”

“Same,” Breanna and Alice said in unison. 

“I’ve been practicing, like, every day,” Breanna admitted, resting her chin in her palm. “I think I’m gonna go for Ursula.”

The three others voiced their approval. Alice then began to rant about “that bitch in Music II that just wants to be Ariel so bad” and Felix took the opportunity to zone out again, thinking about a tiny man sprinting across his counter, holding a piece of spinach. 

He frowned suddenly. Had Pepper been stealing the spinach for food? Had Felix interrupted him and forced him to go hungry? Was he okay?

“Felix,” Alice said, turning towards him so quickly that her silky black hair audibly whipped. “You are literally staring at the wall.”

“Oh, uh—“ Felix blinked several times, face going pink. “Sorry. Ugh. Just thinking.”

His friends laughed, and Felix ran his hands anxiously through his blonde hair, trying to ground himself in reality. 

“Hey— what audition song are you using?” Breanna asked, her brown eyes dark and kind as they searched Felix’s face. Felix appreciated her immensely; she never made fun of him and always seemed to notice when he was uneasy.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Felix murmured, glancing at her. “Something from Beauty and the Beast, maybe. I dunno.”

“I’m using Beauty and the Beast, too,” Alice chirped. “My soulmate actually suggested it.”

That caught Felix’s attention. “Wait— you’re talking to your soulmate, now, too?”

Alice’s eyebrows raised, and she sighed dramatically. “Dude, I just said that, like, ten minutes ago. Have you really not been listening this whole time?” Breanna and Owen nodded.

He flushed. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Um— when did you start talking? Tell me again.”

Alice, of course, was thrilled to tell the same story twice. She immediately leaned closer, as if she was telling the three of them a secret. “He turned twenty-one yesterday,” she explained, lips twitching into a smile, “and we literally talked all night. He’s so sweet, and smart, and funny. Like, it was love at first sight.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just how soulmates work,” Owen teased. Alice gently punched him.

“Shut up. Anyways, I just knew he was the one for me the second I heard his voice.”

Felix offered a smile, but her words sent an uncomfortable feeling into his stomach.

“You’ve been talking to your soulmate too— right, Felix?” Alice continued, tilting her head. “How’s that going?”

Ugh. Felix stalled by taking a sip of his water, then cleared his throat. “He seems a little shy,” he admitted. “I… I don’t really understand him yet, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” Breanna asked curiously.

Felix chewed his lip, thinking. “Um… I mean, I like him. He seems nice. But sometimes he’ll just cut our conversations off without any warning. And he never really talks about himself? He just asks me questions, mainly.”

He rested his chin on his hands, dropping his gaze. “We also haven’t really talked in a few days,” he mumbled. “We just… had a weird conversation, and he stopped reaching out.”

“I’ve heard of this happening,” Owen said thoughtfully, running his fingers through his red hair. “It’s actually pretty common to not get along with your soulmate right away. My older brother hated his soulmate for a few months before they actually got to know each other.”

“That’s comforting,” Felix said darkly.

“I’m sure you’ll work things out,” Breanna offered, and Alice nodded supportingly. “It just takes time.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, although his mind was starting to drift again. “I’m sure.”

—

Felix felt self-conscious.

His gaze wandered around the walls of his apartment. He was currently sitting on the floor, legs crossed underneath him, and quietly singing along to a song playing from his laptop. This was normal for him, typically. When an audition or a performance was coming around, he spent a lot of his time sitting in his apartment, practicing. 

However— the knowledge that someone could be sitting in the walls, watching him right now, made him incredibly uneasy.

He hadn’t seen any sign of Pepper in the last three days, and he hoped that he hadn’t scared the little guy off permanently. Pepper had seemed absolutely terrified after their encounter.

His stomach twisted in regret, and his voice wobbled. If he could go back in time, he would change how he had treated Pepper in a heartbeat. Thinking of that tear-filled gray gaze staring up at him from beneath a cup just made him want to throw up.

God, I was such an asshole. He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing for a moment. When he held Pepper, he could feel his kicks and punches and struggles, but he had barely even acknowledged it. He had an entire person in his hand and he had completely ignored their fear.

Felix felt sick.

The song ended, but he had stopped singing along a few minutes ago. He leaned back dejectedly against the seat of the couch.

“You sound pretty.”

Felix nearly jumped out of his skin. He sat up straight, immediately freezing.

There, at the base of a bookshelf, was Pepper. Down on the floor, only a few feet away from Felix, Pepper seemed smaller than ever. He wore a tiny blue jacket that somehow seemed baggy on him, his sleeved arms folded in front of his small chest. A pair of tiny gray eyes were locked on Felix.

Felix was immediately hit with an onslaught of emotions; he was relieved to see Pepper again, but his heart was already thudding with guilt, remembering how easily he had trapped such a tiny being against his will. He felt incredibly uncomfortable to see Pepper standing on the floor, his neck craning to look up at Felix, who was also sitting on the floor. 

“I said you sound pretty,” Pepper repeated. Despite his casual demeanor, there was a significant caution in the way he lingered by the wall, as if he was ready to bolt at any moment.

Felix blinked, muscles tense. “Oh– thank you. I, um… I didn’t know you were listening.” He held his breath, as if Pepper might bolt at the drop of a pin. 

Those tiny shoulders shrugged. “I just overheard you, and I figured I’d stop by.” After a moment, he added, “Besides, I wanted to come and thank you.”

Felix did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“For letting me go,” Pepper explained, as if this was a normal Tuesday for him. “And you didn’t kill me or keep me, which is pretty typical for humans. And you didn’t go searching for me afterwards, even though it’s been three days. So… thanks for all that.”

Felix’s heart sank, while an uneasy feeling itched at his skin. Is that really what Pepper had expected from him? Being killed, or tormented? The thought of hurting Pepper any more than he already did made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t explain why, but he needed Pepper to understand that he wasn’t any of those things he had described. 

“Pepper…” His voice was hollow. He leaned forward, heart twisting at the sight of Pepper taking a small step back. “Pepper, you don’t need to thank me. I should be apologizing. You didn’t deserve to be grabbed, or– or trapped like that. I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

The borrower frowned for a moment, inquisitive. Then, quietly, “You just did what any human would do.”

Felix’s stomach turned. “That doesn’t make it okay. I still could have hurt you.”

Pepper remained suspiciously quiet, and Felix’s heart pounded. “Did… Did I hurt you?”

“Just a couple bruises,” Pepper said with a shrug, picking at the hem of his blue jacket. “It wasn’t that bad though. Nothing broken, or anything.”

Fuck.

Felix’s stomach was suddenly filled with ice. “Shit… I’m so fucking sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear.” His blue gaze worriedly scanned Pepper’s small form, as if he could magically see the finger-shaped bruises underneath his clothes. “Can— can I make it up to you, somehow? Please?”

Standing on the floor, Pepper seemed even smaller. He was barely over three inches tall, and Felix had acted so carelessly that he had bruised him. What had he been thinking?

“It’s okay, really,” Pepper said, seeming a little wary. “I get bruised all the time. It’s not new to me.”

“No, no. Can I make you something to eat, maybe? As an apology?”

The small man hesitated, wide gray eyes darting around the room. “You don’t have to do that.” As if on cue, the rumbling of his tiny stomach filled the air. Pepper’s tan face immediately flushed, and Felix tilted his head sympathetically.

“Here… let me go make a quick salad. It’ll take five minutes. Wait here.” Pepper had tried to take a piece of spinach a few days ago, so Felix figured a salad would be a good peace offering for all the trouble he had caused. 

Before Pepper could refuse, Felix swiftly pulled himself to his feet. He immediately felt uneasy, looking down at the three-inch-tall boy from his height of nearly six feet, and took a calculated step back.

Pepper hadn’t moved, but his posture was significantly more rigid than it was before, staring up at the human. Considering the circumstances, Felix was grateful that he hadn’t instantly scurried off into the walls, and he murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

As he crossed the room into the kitchen, he tried to imagine that he was three inches tall, looking up at a man the size of a skyscraper. He shuddered, uneasy at the thought, and decided that Pepper must be a lot braver than he gave him credit for. The small man had actually approached Felix willingly, after all.

He stood aimlessly in the kitchen for a few seconds before rummaging through his fridge. He hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a week, and a lot of his produce was getting old. He’ll have to make do with what he had.

After a minute or two of dicing a cucumber into microscopic pieces, Felix spared a glance to his right, and stiffened.

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. A small silver hook was latched onto the edge of the counter, and climbing up the thread it was attached to was Pepper. 

The small man was about three quarters of the way up, not even looking in Felix’s direction. The human blinked several times, entranced by Pepper’s quick movements. Pepper had pulled his sleeves up to cover his hands as he climbed, a clever way to avoid ropeburn. 

Deciding not to say anything, Felix turned back to the cutting board in front of him, carefully sectioning off an ounce of diced cucumber. He was halfway through chopping up some spinach when he glanced over again, only to see Pepper seated patiently on the countertop, raveling up his thread into small circles.

Felix gently cleared his throat. “That was impressive.”

Pepper tilted his head in Felix’s direction. It wasn’t any easier to read his expressions, even now that he was higher up. “Thanks.”

“Where’d you get that hook from?” Felix asked politely, absentmindedly searching for some sort of small plate or bowl he could give to a person the size of his finger.

“My sister,” Pepper explained hesitantly. “It’s an old fishing hook, I think. She got it for me when we were kids.”

Felix’s eyebrow raised, and he immediately had a thousand more questions. Pepper had a family, then? What was his childhood like? Did Pepper’s sister live here, too? 

“What’s her name?” Felix finally asked, figuring that was a safe enough question to not frighten him off.

To his surprise, Pepper actually frowned, tightening his tiny grip on his hook. “It’s not really my place to say,” he said finally, voice cautious but firm. “Humans aren’t supposed to know anything about us, even our names.”

You told me your name, Felix wanted to say, but he decided against it. He glanced over as Pepper spoke up again.

“Have you… told anyone about me?” Pepper spoke as if he was trying to be casual, but Felix could sense a tenseness in the small man’s shoulders. The human blinked.

“No… not really,” Felix said softly. “I only told my soulmate. I’m sorry. But to be fair, I don’t think he believed me.”

Pepper’s face was unreadable, so Felix added, “Um, do you know what soulmates are?”

After a long moment, the borrower finally said, “I’ve… heard of them.”

Felix nodded, scraping a blend of diced veggies onto the corner of a napkin. “Humans have a telepathic connection with their soulmate,” he explained. “So I was able to tell my soulmate that I met you. But he acted kind of weird about it, and we haven’t really talked since, so… he probably just thinks I’m crazy now, I guess. You’re in the clear.”

“Huh,” Pepper said. “That’s interesting.”

Felix turned towards Pepper, the napkin laying flat in his hand. As he approached, it was hard not to stare at Pepper, in awe of just how small he was. The counter looked gigantic compared to him. 

He set the napkin down a few inches away, hyper aware that this is the closest he’s been to Pepper since their last encounter. The small man visibly flinched as his hand approached, and Felix desperately wanted him to understand that he would never grab him like that again.

“Here,” Felix offered. “It’s spinach, cucumber, lettuce and some carrots. I didn’t add any dressing, cause I wasn’t sure what you like. And— I’m sorry— I don’t have any silverware that you could use. Um, but I hope you like it.”

Pepper, for the first time, actually sent him a small smile. “Thank you.” He swiftly approached the napkin, peering down at it momentarily with his small hands planted on his hips. After a moment of examination, Pepper picked up a piece of cucumber and tentatively nibbled at it. 

Felix hovered nearby, his mind racing with a thousand questions. He still had no idea what Pepper even was, or why he had been lingering around his apartment. Did he live nearby?

“So…” Felix avoided looking at Pepper, busying himself by scraping the rest of his salad mix into a tupperware container. “I know you said humans aren’t supposed to know about you, but… I can’t lie, I’m really curious about you.”

Gray eyes peered up at him, hesitant. 

Felix met his gaze briefly. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he assured. “But… but what exactly are you? Why can’t humans know about you?”

He tried to keep his voice light, respectful. In the corner of his eye, Pepper sat down, crossing his legs underneath him. Felix hoped that meant he was comfortable.

“Uh…” Pepper placed the cucumber piece back down on the napkin. “Well, we try to stay out of sight, for our safety. The world just… isn’t built for us.” He gestured vaguely to the kitchen, and Felix agreed that he looked very out of place on the massive counter. “If humans knew about us, we would probably be seen as— as pests, or something, so that’s why we try not to bother anyone.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised. “That’s messed up,” he said worriedly. “You all live in hiding because of humans? That’s… awful.”

He hated the idea that Pepper had at one point believed that Felix would hurt him, just because he was smaller. Did he still believe that? 

“It’s not so bad,” Pepper reasoned, shrugging. “I mean, I’ve lived like this my whole life. And it’s not like we want to be interacting with humans, anyways. Humans are dangerous, whether they try to be or not.”

Felix stayed quiet, uneasy. Pepper continued hesitantly. “So… thank you, for keeping our secret. It means a lot more than you’d think.”

The human blinked, glancing over at the small man. Earnestly shone behind Pepper’s gray eyes.

“Of course,” Felix assured. “I’ll never tell anyone about you, I promise.”

Pepper opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Felix glanced over, watching as the small man leaned over the remains of his little salad and began to rip the napkin into a smaller piece.

After a minute, Pepper straightened up, and Felix realized what he had done. The napkin had been tied up into a little bundle, the salad nestled securely inside. “I’ll take this home with me,” Pepper said, genuinely grateful. “Thank you so much.”

He really did seem to have a lot of experience with this kind of life. Crafty, clever, and resourceful. Felix nodded, heart lifting at the positive response from the small man. “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

Pepper nodded respectfully, beginning to walk towards the toaster, where Felix recalled there was a hidden exit. Then, the small man paused, peering up at Felix again.

“Also— I’m sure your soulmate doesn’t think you’re crazy,” Pepper said. “I think he’d be glad to hear from you again.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He had forgotten he had even mentioned his soulmate to Pepper. “Oh! Well, I’ll… I’ll reach out to him soon.”

“Good. And thanks again, for the salad. Maybe I’ll see you around, Felix.”

Hearing his name on Pepper’s tongue made Felix’s heart jump, not unpleasantly. “Right. No problem. See you around.”

—

Hours later, Pepper sat in his hammock, nibbling on a piece of carrot, thinking of massive hands and blonde hair. He sat up straighter as a voice entered his mind.

“Hey, soulmate, how have you been?”

“Hey, Felix,” Pepper murmured, setting his carrot down. Heart skipping a beat, he pressed his hands to his chest.

“Hey. It’s good to hear from you,” he responded, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile.

____

that awkward moment when ur soulmate turns out to be a literal giant that shouldn't even know u exist ... poor pepper

thanks smmm for reading! :]

[leejeongz]

🫧 enhypen reaction to you wearing their hoodie 🫧

pairing: bf!enha x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

an: pls be nice to me i haven’t written anything in like… a year🫶🏼

⋆ heeseung

“sorry we are a bit early,” one of your not so secret boyfriend’s friends shouted up. you greeted them and scurried to change into your comfy clothes in a different room. “we didn’t realise heeseung knew the way. maybe we can help you set up?”

“oh it’s no problem, really,” you looked at the ground as you left your bedroom, your socks a little slippy across the floor of your apartment. ”can you make some space on that table for me, please?” you grabbed a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen counter and headed towards the couch, where the three boys sat. heeseung’s jaw dropped as he watched you parade around in his oversized sweater, the other two boys turning to look at him as they noticed too. you looked at them and picked up on three very different expressions. “what?”

“y/n,” heeseung started, standing up from his seat and guiding you towards your bedroom with a hand hovering over the small of your back. “that’s my hoodie,” he whispered “and you look so adorable in it,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face before his hands fell to your waist, “but i’m not gonna be able to concentrate on the movie while you’re wearing it.”

“too bad,” you slipped from his grasp and rushed back, grabbed the fruit platter you’d prepared and placed it onto the coffee table too, as if nothing even happened.

heeseung rolled his eyes and but his lip in annoyance as he returned to his place on the couch. you can bet he was planning his revenge for the whole evening, when he wasn’t staring at you, that is.

(other members below the cut)

⋆ jay

“where” you scrambled through the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor wearing nothing but a towel “where is my hoodie?” you accepted that it wasn’t in the pile and so your eyes scanned the rest of the room, maybe you’d put it elsewhere, when your eyes landed on jay’s hoodie on the hook on the door. you pulled it from the hook and held it against your body, nodding at the fit. “that’ll have to do.”

you slipped the hoodie on, along with the rest of your clothes that you’d actually remembered to bring for after your shower. given that you hadn’t been dating jay for that long, you tried to sort out your appearance in the steamed up mirror, but laughed it off dismissively, if he didn’t love you like this too, then that’s his problem, you thought, heading out of the bathroom.

you found jay listening to music, playing something on his phone, which is exactly why you didn’t manage to catch his attention at first. “you’re done? didn’t take long.” he raised his brows, reasonably impressed. “what did you think of the shower gel? i thought you’d like the…” he rested his phone against his stomach as he watched you walk to the window to open it “are you wearing my hoodie?”

“scent? loved it, smells like marshmallows! and yeah, i hope you don’t mind, i think i forgot to take mine.” you laughed and he laughed along with you, shaking his head.

“silly,” he joined you by the window, pulling his hood onto your head and resting his hand on your crown. “but you look adorable, so no,” he nudged you to turn and face him, planting a tender peck on your lips “i don’t mind at all.”

⋆ jake

“well, i didnt know we’d be out this late!” you protested, teeth chattering together awkwardly as you spoke.

you’d spent the past few hours by the lake nearby, people watching, creating mundane stories about the ducks, watching the sunset behind the slightly overgrown trees, and it was getting dark quicker than you’d anticipated.

“well, neither did i,” jake responded with a playful mimicking tone to his voice, “and yet i managed to pick up a hoodie.”

jake stood and you followed, assuming that you’d start walking back to your place now, but jake didn’t move. you eyed jake’s hoodie that he held over his arm in front of him, a dark navy blue, oversized, hoodie that could definitely stop you from shivering so much. “did you pick one up for me? you know i suck at remembering things like that. or did my boyfriend forget that vital fact about me?” you asked, hoping to elicit guilt, feigning a pout for extra points.

“wear it!” he extended the hoodie towards you and eye rolled you in the process, the guilt trip worked, you guessed. “i’m not that cold anyway.”

you pulled the hoodie over your head and over your torso. the hood had stayed on your head and so you pulled it down and fixed the “potato hood” you’d accidentally created on your back. jake’s hands came to fix your hair before dropping to your shoulders, positioning you square on to him.

“perfect.” he nodded his head and bit his lip with a cheeky smile, then grabbed your hand and finally began walking.

before reaching your home, jake pulled out his phone and turned the camera on selfie mode. he raised the phone up with his free hand, but also made sure that your interlocked hands were clearly visible in the picture, as well as you in his hoodie. he snapped a few pictures, some of which capturing you going to playfully hit his arm.

“you’re so cute, you know that, right?” he says, planting a sweet little peck against your temple.

⋆ sunghoon

“can’t you wear your own?” sunghoon laughed, his cheeks puffing out as he pointed to the hoodie folded into your tote.

“no, and anyway, it would save you from having to carry it anymore.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes, debating on whether or not to hand over the black hoodie that had been weighing down his right arm for hours. he knew you’d look cute in it, there was no doubt about it, but he didn’t want everyone else in the city to see you buried in it, that was for his eyes only!

“fine, but only because i don’t wanna hold it anymore.” you grabbed to hoodie and slipped it over your head, your hair getting slightly messed up in the process.

sunghoon chuckled as he scanned the outfit head to toe, “cute,” he muttered, before taking your hand and leading the way to the nearest bus stop. “we should probably head home if you’re cold.”

“it’s okay, i’m not that cold anymore!” you reassured, slowing down behind him and tugging on his hand. “didn’t you want to go back and get that jacket you saw earlier?”

“it will be there tomorrow.” sunghoon winced as the harsh coldness of the bus stop’s bench reached his skin through his jeans, you took a seat next to him and felt his face close to yours, “but right now, i want to kiss you more than anything.”

⋆ sunoo

“but your house is like, miles away, why don’t you just pick one from my closet?” sunoo suggested, pointing in the direction of his bedroom.

“are you sure? i don’t want to get any of your hoodies dirty.”

“now why would you be getting them dirty? we’re literally just going to grab some groceries.” sunoo shot you a sarcastic dirty look before making his way to his room, you following behind. “you’d look so good in that peach one i wore this weekend, but it’s in the dryer right now,” he sulked as he opened the closet door, revealing a number of hoodies, most of which you’d never seen before. after he’d stopped sulking, he glances at you, catching you in awe of his collection. “should i pick for you?”

you nod, knowing that whatever he chooses will look best.

“this one,” he hands you a pretty basic white hoodie with the tiniest pink hello kitty outline on the pocket on the front. you carefully slip it over your head and sunoo pulls it down the rest of the way, looking very content with his choice. “oh this is so cute on you!” he claps his hands before grabbing your arm and leading you to a mirror. “see, you look adorable, i think you should keep that in fact.”

you squint as your eyes focus on sunoo’s hoodie, a white hoodie with a tiny purple hello kitty outline. “you have matching hoodies… with yourself?” you asked, side eyeing your boyfriend through the mirror.

“no,” he started, “well, yeah, for a bit, but it’s yours now.” he smiled, “i got them for us, but i completely forgot because it was when you went on vacation, put them both in the closet, and wore them both, quite a few times.” his smile became a little awkward as his hand came to stroke down the slightly bally, worn hoodie that you were wearing. “but, at least it smells like me, i guess.”

⋆ jungwon

jungwon picked up your facetime call almost immediately and spoke, “hey baby, one sec, i just need to reply to jake about tomorrow,” the bleakness ‘paused’ screen showing only a reflection of yourself. only then did you realise that you hadn’t changed your hoodie before you called. you looked down and panic set in, you thought about changing it, but thought it would be worse if jungwon caught you changing anyway, so instead you just braced yourself for his reaction.

“sorry about that, he just wondered if i was coming to his game tomorrow so i had to lie and say-” the silence filled the air as you noticed him scanning the screen in front of him. “who’s is that?” he asked, seriously.

“i think it’s mine,” you lied, knowing very well that it was jungwon’s.

“hmm no, but it does look familiar.” he said, pondering for a moment before continuing his story about missing jake’s football match. “are you sure that hoodie isn’t jay’s?” jungwon asks, cutting himself off once again.

“jungwon, it’s your hoodie, do you even know what you’ve brought?” you laugh, showing the logo to the camera so he can get a closer look. “i was with you when you got it like three months ago.”

then it clicked, his mouth opened wide and snapped shut again in an instance. “why are you wearing my hoodie? did you steal it from me?”

you shook your head, regretting ever wearing it, “you left it here last night and i’ve been wearing it all day, it’s actually quite comfy.”

“well yeah, that’s why i bought it,” he explained, “don’t go out, i’m coming over to get it back, you thief.”

⋆ niki

“is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the black hoodie with a sports logo on the front that’s been dangling off of your desk chair for days.

“hey, that’s mine,” niki responds, sitting up on your bed, “i’ve been looking for sooo long.”

you let out a sigh of relief, you didn’t accidentally steal someone’s hoodie, it was just your forgetful boyfriend’s. “it’s been haunting me,” you chuck it back to him.

he studies the hoodie for a moment. he looks at every detail, the lettering, the strings, even the label inside, before, for whatever reason, sniffing it. he nods with an impressed downward smile.

“have you tried it on?” he asks curiously, “just to, you know, see if it maybe was yours.” you shook your head. “oh,” niki’s response was laced with disappointment. “will you now that you know it’s mine?”

“hmm sure, why though?” niki tossed the hoodie back at you and your caught it sloppily, too focused on whatever he was going to say. instead, he just excitedly waited until you’d put it on, his smile getting wider and wider with every centimetre of black fabric covering your torso. he pointed to the mirror, “that’s why.”

you laughed at the reflection, his hoodie was certainly not the right size for you.

“actually, i’m glad you didn’t try it on when i wasn’t here to see it,” he confessed, laying back down on your bed, “the sight of you in it was too good to miss.” he interlocked his fingers on his stomach and closed his eyes, “i’ll probably dream about that, now, thanks y/n.”

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 12 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: The dinner with Lena doesn’t exactly go as planned. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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A permanent smile is etched on my face as I hurry to the convenience store. Not even the rain, or the cold can dampen my mood right now.

A gust of wind whips some rain in my face, so I pull my hood even further over my head and look down, focusing on not stepping into puddles.

I’ve always liked the rain, especially the sound of it against the pavement or a window, but I don’t like the cold that is starting to set in.

It’s the beginning of October and as I keep walking I think of everything that’s going to happen from now on.

Will Lena and I spend Halloween together? Is she one for dressing up?

What about Thanksgiving? Would she be up to celebrate with me, Sam, and Ruby, or does she want to keep what we have between just the two of us for a while?

And what about Christmas? And New Year’s?

What about my contract? When do I sign my resignation letter? When will I officially no longer be Lena’s bodyguard?

All those questions fill my head as I keep walking with my head down.

When I get to the store, I make quick work of getting everything we need before heading back out with a spring in my step.

I can’t wait to get back and see where the rest of the night goes. We’ll probably cook together, listening to music, then eat on the couch, watching a movie.

I’m not so sure about our sleeping arrangements from now on, but I’ll just wait and see how the night goes.

I grin like an idiot and think of Lena and how her lips tasted on mine. They were warm and soft and the kiss was more than I could have ever dreamed of.

She is incredible and I can’t believe she actually likes me even after I told her about Noah.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice a figure stepping out of a dark alley to my left until it’s already too late.

With a sickening thud, a baseball bat makes contact with my back and I yelp, dropping to the ground. The groceries I just bought spill out of the paper bag and the bottle of Lena’s favorite wine I had enough afterthought to buy breaks on the curb. My whole back stings and my arms and legs tingle as a numb feeling spreads through them.

I writhe in pain and gasp for air like a fish out of water as the rain pelts down on me.

The guy that attacked me, bends down beside me. He has his hood pulled over his head and I can’t make out his face, but I do see the sickening smile that pulls at his lips.

“Tell Ms. Luthor her brother sends his regards.”

That’s all the he says before stalking off, his long coat billowing behind him as he vanishes around a corner.

I continue to try and catch my breath, whimpering every time I move because a blinding pain shoots up my spine and into my head.

I close my eyes and focus on breathing, partly aware of my now wet sweatpants sticking to my skin.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Who was that guy? And what does Lex want from Lena? Have they been in contact? If so, why hasn’t she told me about it?

Minutes go by and I continue to stay on the ground, shaking. I haven’t been in this much pain since being shot in the shoulder.

A tear trickles down my cheek, mixing with the rain on my skin and I let out an involuntary sob.

Just a few minutes ago everything was perfect and the prospect of cooking dinner with Lena made me feel warm all over.

Now, I’m just cold.

After what feels like forever the sharp pain in my back finally subsides, leaving behind a dull ache.

It hurts when I breathe and I assume it’s because my spine and ribs are injured, but I have to get home somehow and because there’s not a single soul around to help me, I drag myself to my feet with a groan after gathering all the groceries off the ground.

The paper bag they were in is wet and falling apart, so I leave it along with the broken bottle of wine and carry everything else scooped up against my stomach.

I stumble back home, my back throbbing painfully in time with my racing heart and my uneven breaths and open the door to the apartment with trembling hands.

The warmth from inside does little to comfort me in my soaked clothes and I shudder, putting the groceries down by the door before slipping off my shoes.

Just then, Lena comes walking out of the bedroom, running a brush through her damp hair. She looks cozy in my shirt and sweatpants and for a split second I forget about what just happened.

“You sure did take your time,” she jokes, not really looking at me as she heads to her phone on the kitchen island.

I chuckle softly and slump back against the door. My eyes flutter shut and I lift a shaky hand to unzip my drenched jacket.

“You know, I was thinking we could watch that movie you told me about last week. What was it again? The Imitation Game?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, wincing when I peel my jacket off my body. It lands on the ground with a wet thud and I slump back against the door to catch my breath.

“Great. Now, did you get everything we need or— Oh my God ?!” I feel hands on my face within the next few seconds and I revel in the way the simple touch makes my skin tingle.

My eyes open slowly to find Lena watching me with wide and worry-filled eyes. Her hands rund down my neck and over my shoulders and I wince when the light pressure makes my back sting.

She immediately moves her hands back up and cups my cheeks again. “What happened? Where does it hurt?”

“M-my back. . .” Is all I manage to get out and Lena is quick to grab the hem of my hoodie.

Her eyes meet mine in silent question and I just nod, letting her guide the fabric up and over my head. I choke back a whimper when my arms drop back down to my side and don’t object when Lena’s hands land on my hips to turn me around.

Under different circumstances I’d be swooning, feeling her hands on me like this, but right now I just feel miserable.

“Oh my God, Y/N. . . Who did this to you?” she asks quietly, her voice breaking. Her warm hands travel up the side of my waist, but stop below where the bat struck.

She doesn’t dare to touch what I’m assuming is an already angry looking bruise and I’m thankful for it.

“We have to get you to a hospital,” she says. “Your spleen could have ruptured, or your lungs could be bruised. I’ll call Alfred to come and pick us up. Just wait here.”

“No, Lena we can’t. It’s too public,” I object, turning back around to face her.

Her eyebrows are pulled together in disbelief and she takes my hand, squeezing it. “It doesn’t matter. You’re hurt and—“

“No,” I say sternly. “We can’t.”

She pulls her hand back and clenches her jaw. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?! This isn’t about me! This is about you. You’re hurt and I’m not just going to stand here and do nothing about it. You need to see a doctor, Y/N!”

“It is about you!” I snap. “The guy who did this told me to tell you that Lex sends his regards!”

Lena’s whole face drops and she pales visibly. “What?”

I nod and hang my head shamefully, feeling bad for having snapped at her. I made it sound like she’s the reason this happened, so I step forward and take her hand, lacing our fingers together.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” I say softly. “It’s not your fault this happened.”

Lena shakes her head with watery eyes and her chin begins to wobble. “No, no it is. I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop, this is not your fault,” I say, closing the distance between us to wrap my arms around her in a hug. My back protests when she reciprocates the embrace, but I do my best to ignore it and focus on her. “Your brother is a grade A asshole and you have nothing to apologize for. Got it?”

Lena stays silent and I lean back to meet her eyes with raised eyebrows. “Got it?”

She sighs and blinks back her tears before nodding. I hum, satisfied, and press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“You should still get your back looked at,” she argues weakly, one of her hands moving to lay flat against the small of my back.

“Lena, I can’t—“

“Yes you can,” she interrupts, her eyes widening when an idea comes to her. She pulls away completely and grabs her phone from the kitchen island. “Kara’s sister, Alex, is a doctor at a nearby government research facility. I’m sure she’ll be able help.”

I want to object but Lena’s already on the phone with Alex, explaining the situation and nodding along to whatever the woman on the other end is saying.

I shiver, still soaking wet, and head to the bedroom to change into a new set of comfortable clothes.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get a sweatshirt over my head, so I opt for a zip-up hoodie, sighing when the soft fabric makes contact with my tender back.

I sit on the edge of my bed and rub my eyes with a tired sigh.

“You ready?” Lena asks a few minutes later, appearing in the doorway with her phone in her hand.

“I guess,” I say quietly. “But what about dinner?”

Her eyes soften. “Let’s postpone it until you’re feeling better.”

I pout and hang my head. I was really looking forward to cooking with her but she’s right. I really need to get checked out to make sure I don’t have any internal bleeding.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, getting up and following Lena out of the apartment after we both put on some shoes and a jacket.

Alfred’s already waiting for us and ushers us into the car before driving off.

The radio is turned off and the only sound I can focus on is the rain against the windshield and Lena’s soft breathing next to me.

I can feel her watching me, especially when we drive over a bump in the road and I wince, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m still trying to process what happened and I’m not in the mood to talk right now.

So, instead, I move my hand to the space between us and turn it so my palm is facing up.

Lena’s eyes drop down and she gets what I want immediately, sliding her hand into mine and intertwining our fingers with a soft squeeze.

I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.

I must have drifted off for a few minutes because when Lena squeezes my hand and I open my eyes, I notice that we’re parked outside a huge glass skyscraper with two towers.

Lena gives me an encouraging nod and disconnects our hands so we can get out after Alfred opens the door from outside.

It’s still raining, so we hurry toward the dimly-lit lobby where I noticed a dark figure already waiting for us.

As we come closer I recognize her as Kara’s sister and she wordlessly leads us inside, past two security guards who eye us with some curiosity.

We take a glass elevator up a couple of floors and when we step out, I’m blinded by fluorescent lights.

The lobby was mostly dark and deserted, but up here the place is bustling with people. We get a few weird looks here and there, but no one actually seems to mind our presence.

Alex leads us down a hallway before turning right and entering a spacious room. Theres an examination table right in the middle of it and it’s surrounded by a heart rate monitor and other medical equipment I can’t put a name to.

“So, Lena told me what happened and I think it’s best if we do an ultrasound first,” Alex says, gesturing for me to get on the examination table.

I nod wordlessly and get on the table, looking up to find Lena standing by the door, anxiously chewing on her thumb. She hasn’t said a word since we left the apartment and I have the feeling it’s because she feels guilty for what happened.

“Could you maybe take off your hoodie?” Alex asks, pulling my attention away from the young CEO and I nod, taking it off with a wince.

I don’t know her all that well, but I have met her a couple of times because she sometimes joins Kara and Lena’s lunch get-togethers.

“Alright, now just lie back and try to relax,” she says, smiling softly when she senses my ever growing anxiety.

What if I’m actually seriously injured? Will I need surgery? Where will I stay? More importantly, where will Lena stay?

I swallow thickly and do as I’m told, lying down with a poorly suppressed whimper. It seems to snap Lena out of her trance and she wordlessly joins my side, tentatively placing her hand on my shoulder.

Alex glances between the two of us with an unreadable expression before squirting some ultrasound gel onto the transducer.

She turns off the light and takes a seat next to the examination table before getting to work.

The gel is cold on my skin and I suck in a breath, feeling Lena tense beside me.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

I nod sheepishly and ball my hands into fists. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just a little cold.”

She smiles softly and gets back to doing whatever it is she’s doing, running the transducer all over my abdomen.

I look at the screen of the ultrasound machine even though I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for. Everything looks blurry, a mix of grays, blacks and whites, but it must mean something to Alex because after a while she stops and hands me some paper towels to wipe off the excess gel.

“Well, you don’t have any internal bleeding as far as I can tell. You’re kidneys and your spleen are both in tact,” she says, getting up to turn the lights back on.

Lena lets out a barely audible breath of relief and helps me sit up.

“Thank you, Alex.” I say. “For doing this, I mean.”

“Of course,” she says softly, gesturing for me to stand up and turn around so she can examine my back and ribs.

Her hands carefully run down the length of my spine and I gasp, biting my tongue to stop myself from crying out in pain. Then, she moves her hands to press on either side of my ribcage and again I squeeze my eyes shut to will away the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes.

When she finally stops touching me, I start shaking and I stumble sideways. Lena is quick to put her hands on my shoulders and guides me to lean against the examination table.

Her eyes are filled with worry, raking up and down my body before they meet mine. Her eyebrows are furrowed and the look she’s giving me is heartbreaking, so I try to reassure her with a small smile.

It has the exact opposite effect though because it’s more of a grimace than a smile, and Lena bites the inside of her cheek and averts her eyes.

“Alright, as far as I can tell nothing is broken, but we should get an x-Ray of your back just to make sure,” Alex says, scribbling something down on a notepad.

I nod and let her lead me into a small, adjacent room, leaving Lena behind.

The room is equipped with an x-ray machine and Alex makes quick work of getting all the shots she needs before taking me back to the other room.

“You can put your clothes back on,” she says, taking a seat by one of the computers.

Lena grabs my hoodie and holds it up so I can slip it on without straining my back too much. I thank her quietly and go to stand next to Alex who while I got dressed, pulled up the images of my x-rays on the computer.

She zooms in on my spine and ribs, looking for fractures while explaining what exactly she’s looking for.

Lena joins my side, her shoulder brushing against my arms as she leans forward to get a better look herself.

Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and her eyes shine with interest as Alex goes on talking and I can’t help but watch her rather than listen to what Alex is saying.

Only when she sighs in relief do I direct my attention back to Alex who’s smiling softly, having obviously noticed my distraction.

“So?” I asks, feeling slightly embarrassed that I didn’t hear what she ultimately said.

“You’re going to be okay,” she says. “Just take it easy for a couple of days and put ice on your back if necessary.”

I smile, relieved, and thank her with a heartfelt handshake.

“No problem,” she says, turning off all the lights and leading us back to the elevator.

When we get to the lobby, Lena hugs her tightly, something I didn’t dare to do because I don’t know her that well.

They exchange a few hushed pleasantries and after Alex assures her she’ll say hi to Kara from her, we part ways.

Alfred, who hasn’t moved the car, gets out of it and opens the door for us with a polite nod.

The drive home is silent just like the way over and I close my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

I noticed Lena keeping somewhat of a distance between the two of us while Alex was around, probably because this thing between us, whatever it is, is still brand new, but now she’s basically glued to my side.

She’s sitting in the middle seat, one of her hands in mine while the other is curled around my arm.

She looks at our intertwined hands, lost in thought, but I don’t ask her about it until we’re back at the apartment.

“Are you alright?” I ask when we settle down on the couch after ordering some takeout. “You’re awfully quiet. . .”

Lena cuddles into my side, mindful of my back, and takes my hand to run her fingers over my knuckles. “I just. . . I’m scared, Y/N. I knew Lex wanted to get back at me for testifying against him during his trial, but I never thought he’d target you.”

“I get it,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You have a right to be scared, but you need to know that it’s not your fault. This scares me, too, I’m not going to lie, but my number one priority— no matter what happens between us— is to keep you safe.”

Lena hums and rests her head against my chest, her eyes focused on the black screen of the turned-off TV.

I know I’m not getting through to her, but I don’t want to push her, so I close my eyes and rest my cheek against the top of her head.

Tomorrow’s a new day and we can talk more then. For now I just want to eat dinner and go to bed.

________________________________________________

Hi! Sorry for the delay, but like I said I’m super busy at the moment, so updates will be a little slow.

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha

[linghxr]

My 2023 in Mandopop/Chinese music (update & recs)

It’s been too long since I last shared some music recommendations/updates on what I’m listening to! Admittedly, I haven’t been discovering as many new artists because I’m busy listening to 薛之谦 on repeat. But we'll focus on the new.

You can check out my Spotify playlist featuring these songs (plus bonus ones). In addition, I’ve included YouTube links below.

五月天 / Mayday 五月天 is a legendary band, so of course I knew of them and had heard a few of their songs over the years. But I never proactively sought out their music until recently. I still haven’t had time to dive into their back catalog, but I’ve already found some songs I really love.

《我又初恋了》 I actually really didn’t like this song the first time I heard it, but it wormed its way into my brain. It’s just a lot of fun! Non-serious songs can be good too.

《转眼》 My favorite 五月天 song <3. I’m probably too young to fully appreciate the lyrics, but they make me feel so nostalgic and bittersweet, like transitioning to a new chapter of life and leaving the old behind.

《因为你 所以我》 This song didn’t stand out to me at first, but it grew on me! I caught myself humming it a lot. It‘s kind of corny, but it sounds so full of hope.

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan I first started listening to 陈奕迅 a couple years ago after my Album a Day August challenge, but I’ve found that his music has grown on me over time. I believe I’ve only mentioned him once before, so I thought now was a good time to highlight my favorite of his songs.

《之外》 This is probably my favorite 陈奕迅 song. The lyrics convey a sense of hopelessness, but the overall song has a smooth, light sound.

《娱乐天空》 You know a song is good when it’s over 6 minutes long but feels like it flies by! It makes me want to get up, get moving, and be productive.

《烟味》 This song is dramatic, and I love it for that. Also has a hint of orchestral flavor.

《淘汰》 One of 陈奕迅’s most well-known songs—for a good reason. It has big Cpop ballad vibes but is definitely livelier.

白举纲 / Bai Jugang You’re going to notice several mentions of 披荆斩棘 in this post. That’s where I “met” 白举纲. I instantly liked his voice and loved seeing him with his “brother” 高瀚宇 and “dad” 张晋! You may also see his music under his English name, Pax Congo.

《被动失控》 This is the only song on the list you could headbang to.

《Shy Boy》 I love this song because it’s cute and includes a children’s rhyme that I learned as a kid: 找啊找啊找朋友 找到一个好朋友.

苏诗丁 / Su Shiding At some point last year I did a one-month free trial of Apple Music. It was an interesting experience because the recommendations were very different from what Spotify tends to show me. I’m glad Apple Music led me to 苏诗丁!

《LUCIFER（傲慢宗罪）》 All I can say is that this song exudes coolness and confidence. It also has a fair bit of English, but honestly I had to look up the lyrics to tell what some of it was.

《梦幻病》 This song is from the same album. It’s dreamlike but gets more frantic as it builds. Overall, it’s just a bit…unsettling.

队长 / Young Captain I learned about 队长 from a random post on Instagram about his concert in Malaysia. I think these songs might have gone viral on 抖音 or something. I was surprised I liked them so much because they both have some rap (I’m not a rap fan), but it was love at first listen.

《11》 I love how this song builds towards the end. I spend the whole song waiting for the crescendo, and it’s great payoff.

《楼顶上的小斑鸠》 This song is like the slightly mellower sibling of the one above. But I ended up liking this one even more.

金志文 / Jin Zhiwen 金志文 was another artist who Apple Music recommended to me. I definitely need to explore his discography more but haven’t had the chance to do so yet. But he has some good stuff so far!

《自娱自乐》 Smooth and relaxing but in a fun way. Simple and no-frills but will put a smile on your face!

《远走高飞》 This one feels like enjoying the breeze on a beautiful sunny day. I also enjoy the duet with 徐佳莹 version.

163braces 163braces started out as a YouTuber posting song covers. I have watched a couple of her covers, but they didn’t leave much of an impression on me. I was pleasantly surprised by her foray into original music. I look forward to hearing what she does next!

《控制》 The song I would want as my “soundtrack” if I were a video game character. It’s energetic and loud.

《murmur》 Honestly this song is pretty similar to the first one. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing them. But hey, if ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

小鬼 / Lil Ghost 小鬼 did what I can best describe as “pulling an MGK” by going from more rap to kinda pop-punk? That MGK album was my guilty pleasure when in came out, so I’m all for 小鬼’s new direction.

《Last Day》 This song really gave me MGK vibes. It’s about half in English, but I often don't even notice when he switches between languages.

《不良少年》 I just know I would have loved this song so much in high school. It’s an angsty teen anthem. 

《为明天写封信》 I can totally imagine this song playing at the end of a 2000s teen movie! Maybe while showing a montage of the main characters graduating.

《无所求必满载而归》 by 陈粒 / Chen Li This is technically cheating because I have recommended 陈粒 songs before, but it was at least a couple years ago. I heard this song covered on 披荆斩棘的哥哥 and immediately looked up the original. Honestly I should have known it was a 陈粒 song because you can totally tell it’s her style.

《轻红》 by 曹杨 / Young I keep coming back to this song! It’s from a drama soundtrack. I was super surprised the first time I listened to it because I thought it was going to be a typical ballad based on the first ~45 seconds or so—it wasn’t. There is also another version by 陈雪燃 (the king of cdrama OSTs). But I actually prefer the 曹杨 version.

《时光机》 by 吴克群 / Kenji Wu I was introduced to 吴克群 via 披荆斩棘2. He was instantly one of my favorite contestants after his team’s amazing 《新地球》 performance (check it out). This song is bouncy and a little dreamy. I kinda want to hear a remix with Harry Styles’ As It Was. I just wish it were longer than 3 minutes!

My Spotify Wrapped

I have a tradition of sharing my Spotify Wrapped, and I wanted to continue the streak in some form. So here's a quick rundown.

Top genre: 华语流行音乐 Representative city: Taipei Minutes: 21,750

Top artists

薛之谦 / Xue Zhiqian

林宥嘉 / Yoga Lin

五月天 / Mayday

李荣浩 / Li Ronghao

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan 

Top songs

《木偶人》 - 薛之谦

《狐狸》 - 薛之谦

《骆驼》 - 薛之谦

《转眼》 - 五月天

《后来的我们》 - 五月天

Also, fellow Mandopop fans should check out the Mando Gap newsletter. I stumbled upon it this year, and I know it’s going to be a great resource for discovering new artists in 2024!

[sailorscout93]

I’m watching Ariana and Cynthia’s commentary version of Wicked for the first time (I have to split it up because I have to go to work and don’t have enough time to watch the whole movie before I leave) and here’s a few little random commentary notes I’ve made so far just after ‘The Wizard and I’. none of this is in order, just as I’m thinking I’m writing things down lol

1. I LOVE how much they are both fangirling over each other and the musical and their co-stars and the teams and the sets and just…. EVERYTHING.

2. Ari literally telling Cynthia “shut up, you’re singing” when The Wizard and I starts and Cynthia is talking, but Ariana wanted to listen was adorable

3. Pointing out Easter eggs but also being sneaky about not spoiling things (Re: The hooded figure on the horse at Kiamo Ko at the very beginning that they specifically *DIDN’T* point out but mentioned that if you pay attention, you’d see something important)

4. I CACKLED at their discussions about the baby actor who played “baby baby Elphaba” and “baby agents”

5. Ariana talking about how hard it was to film the part about burning Elphaba’s effigy in No One Mourns the Wicked and how grief can manifest in different ways

6. Both of them already seeing shots of themselves and saying “I don’t remember doing that!” And a testament to Jon’s magic behind the camera and catching little things on camera that they didn’t even realize he’d gotten

7. Ari arguing (respectfully) to have certain lines of Galinda’s from the musical that were almost cut out back into the script (She really is a Wicked fan girl and I love it)

8. Ari “crying” over Elphaba’s line “I’d be so happy I could…. MELT!” In The Wizard and I…. Again her fan girling knows no bounds!

9. Last one for now…. I DIDN’T KNOW THAT ELPHABA HAVING VISIONS WASN’T A PART OF THE MUSICAL AND WAS AN ADDED DIMENSION TO HER MAGIC FOR THE MOVIE!!!(Sorry guys, I haven’t seen it yet, I’m hoping to go to an actual production of it this summer when the tour comes near me)

I’ll probably give another update on my thoughts in the next hour before I go to work, then the rest of the movie tonight after I get off hopefully.

[uusercatt367]

Your opinion on the Sakamaki brothers??

they all need to go see a therapist ASAP

That’s a good question cuz I hate all of them, as a Yui Stan it feels illegal for me to love them lol /Jk but I’ll have to say that they’re so funny when they act like actual siblings and some times they can be nice to her plus the reason I first got to watch the Anime is because I thought they looked hot 👹👹, but I’ll rank them from favorite to least favorite.

Ayato -

1. I know it’s pretty basic but I just can’t betray my 13 year old self cuz when I first saw him I instantly got a crush on him and he’ll always have a special place in my heart lol, Every time he speaks it instantly makes me crack up laughing, He’s such a narcissist I live for it, And yet sometimes he just annoys me Like bro stop making fun of Yui’s chest like he got bigger than hers 😟😟😟

Subaru -

2. Another favorite of mine is Subaru and it’s just because he’s actually so nice despite him having major anger issues, he’s game routes are my favorite out of everyone, I swear if he wasn’t a vampire he would be even nicer to Yui, And yes of course there were times that he was so cruel to her and it’s no excuse, but cut him some slack he got mommy and daddy issues 😾

Shu / Reiji -

3. It’s a tie between Shu and Reiji, I’m sorry I just can’t choose in my opinion they’re the prettiest along side Ayato, I’m just rlly into smart characters with mommy issues ( here referring to Reiji 👹 ) Also let’s talk about how much Shu describes my whole personality lol I also sleep and listen to music the whole time but I’m not cold like him and he’s actually really funny, their interaction together is really interesting / funny, I always love when they interact.

Laito -

4. I don’t have any major opinion about him, I’m not really into pervert characters but he is hilarious, I know he has some severe trauma ( well like the rest of them ) yet again there’s no excuse to anything that they did to Yui. If I’m being honest my first reaction to him was “ who is this Chuuya looking dude 💀💀 “

Kanato -

5. Now let me be honest and don’t come after me for this cuz I know a lot of people like Kanato but I hate him sm 💀, He is so annoying and my anger issues could never handle him, that one coffee scene with Yui in the Anime still pisses me off to this day, I swear if I was Yui I would start slapping the shit out of him, he acts like he either bullies or gets bullied by kids on Roblox. But I do like his aesthetic and his whole creepy vibe overall and maybe if he was taller I would’ve liked him more ^^ // Jk

Kino -

6. Can’t say much about him I just haven’t finished his route in LE yet but from what I’ve learned till now he’s an IPad kid and really into guava juice…

!!And just for the record if I said something that pissed you off I’m sorry but this is just an opinion.!!