#i can't think about it too much or i'll cry honestly

[kurosagi-h8r]

Hii love your little headcanons so I wanted to ask if you can do "what happens when mc asks the ghouls for dating advice"

I don't think mc would ever realistically ask them that but the reactions would be funny💀

WWWWWW SURE DO~~ But i'm gonna make this into parts because i don't think i'm strong enough i'm too frail to write for all of 'em in one go (no joke my shoulder pain has been killing me). so sorryyy ╯︿╰

Jin

Bold of you to assume he's gonna give you relationship advice when he can't fix his relationship with his papa

tbf he's probably gonna look at you weirdly and uhh remind you that you're his slave and nothing more and that any thought of being in a relationship with other people is forbidden

or ask you a bunch of question that will make you feel ashamed that you don't marry rich (with him as the standard) idk

Tohma

Will actually be a pretty decent guy to go for when it comes to dating advice... I think...

"blablablabla who's the guy? is it someone i know? blablabla I suggest you do this and that blablabla why not use me as an example? It won't do you any harm, no?"

"Will you update me on the progress? I don't want to be nosy, I'm simply looking out for you. Too many potential danger lurking in this place and I want nothing less than to sleep at night knowing that you're safe."

Very much biased but he can manipulate me all he wants and i will give in i won't even think twice about it

Kaito

This loser will start crying on the spot thinking that you found someone else already

"I-I never said I found someone..." and a lightbulb will come out of his head thinking that you were asking him SPECIFICALLY because HE is the one you're crushing on. "I've read somewhere that this is one of the things people do to find out more about their crush... THIS IS IT! THIS IS MY CHANCE!"

And all the advice he's giving you are the things that he wants you do to him

Not even gonna be ashamed about it go for it kaito

Luca

Most earnest in giving dating advice. He genuinely wants to help. He's even honored to be the one you go to for such important decision making.

Even if you do it to find out more about him, he's gonna be oblivious 😭 good luck

Honestly i don't have much words to back him up but personally, deep in my heart, i would go to this guy because i don't believe in myself when it comes to this kind of thing. i will trust you to set me in the right path luca ❤ i'll even trust you to beat up the shitty guy in my stead (lol)

Alan

Look me in the eye and tell me he has any dating experience

Not good with words but will stand behind you few steps away as you do what you want to do. Be it confessing your feelings or setting boundaries with your partner. For support 👍

Whether your partner finds it scary or not it's their problem

Surprisingly good at comforting maybe? If your partner breaks your heart and you don't feel like talking it out he will drive you around to clear your head.

Leo

"You're asking me? Oh my God you must be THAT desperate huh."

GIRL JUST ABORT MISSION ATP WHATEVER YOU'RE STRESSING OUT ABOUT IT'S GONNA GET WORSE IF YOU'RE SEEKING THIS GUY'S ADVI-- *got dragged away*

"Not gonna listen to all that. Why don't we just try making them jealous? You have me and I'm always down for a challenge~"

Ask yourself, which one is worse, making a deal with the devil or Leo?

Sho

Alright listen, depending on how dire the situation is i would want him to pretend to be my bf to make my partner jealous. HE'S PROBABLY GONNA HATE IT but i'm not one to pass up such opportunity /j

biker boyfriend to make your partner jealous??? why the hell not

I can feel him looking at me weirdly "you seriously coming to me for a relationship advice...?"

"How the hell would I know? Get them back with their favorite food? A way to someone's heart is to their stomach or whatever the saying goes." If it's cooking skill you're lacking maybe he can help a little.

[blueblossomrose]

hi, I hope you are well!

i have a askk

what about Genshin Impact characters with a fem!reader who has powers similar to Gojo Satoru?

Hey! Sorry for the late delivery 😭

You didn't specify which characters you wanted so I just put the ones I thought fit on my proposal 👁

Characters: Wanderer (Scaramouche), Lisa, Diluc, Xiao, Thoma, Lumine/Aether (both travelers).

Content: It can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, some swear words perhaps, mention of violence typical of the Jujutsu Kaisen canon, reader is gn but more like male because Gojo is a man.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

[Name] was a complex individual. He/She came to Teyvat along with the traveler, apparently being from a noble family from his/her and the traveler's original world. Yet, his/her incredibly strong strength and abilities coupled with his/her arrogant personality make the residents of Teyvat confused.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" Wanderer, or Scara, as you call him against his will, while you two were on a mission, looking for mint for the traveler.

"Can't you see? Water fall! Hehe~" you laughed foolishly as your technique prevented the water from reaching you, making a small waterfall above your head.

Scara let out a sound similar to a grunt mixed with a deep sigh.

"Why in the world traveler just have to put me with you?"

“Oh, stop complaining. I bet you’re secretly having fun.”

“Having fun? What in Teyvat makes you think that’s fun?” Scara narrowed his eyes at [Name], clearly exasperated.

“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you? If you really wanted to leave, you would have found a way by now.”

For a moment, the Wanderer was silent, his prepared response dying in his throat. He stared at the waterfall, and as much as he wanted to deny it, there was something... comforting about the scene. Something so simple, yet so absurdly peaceful that he couldn't help but let his guard down a little. He looked away, sulking.

"You're insufferable." he finally muttered, though his voice sounded less sharp.

"That sounds like a compliment coming from you!" [Name] replied with a wink.

Scara gave him a long, sharp look. "If you don't find the mint in ten minutes, I'll throw you under the waterfall for real."

The traveler was worried that you would end up killing each other. Surprisingly, you are always cursing each other but you have never gotten physical.

Perhaps it helped that the traveler made it clear to the Wanderer that you were the strongest in your world. Scara is not stupid, he doesn't pick fights with the stronger ones. Yet, he learned a lot about the kind of person you are.

"I'd like to find those artifact books before the traveler gets mad at me. I mean, Lumine/Aether can even cry!" [Name] said with an overly dramatic air, leaning forward slightly as she stared at Jean.

Jean just shook her head and sighed. Despite everything, a slight smile played at the corners of her lips, evidence that she did, in fact, find [Name]'s antics amusing.

"You never miss a chance to put on a show, do you?" Jean commented.

At the top of the stairs, Lisa watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Leaning against the banister, she looks at [Name]. “Hmm, if I were crying, would you comfort me? Honestly, I would love that.”

[Name] looked up at Lisa, eyes shining with provocation. “Ah, Lisa, but you never cry! You’re too strong for that.”

“Aha, really?” Lisa smiled and laughed softly.

When Traveler asked if you really thought Lisa was that strong or were joking, you just shrugged.

Honestly, Lisa could be really strong!... or it could be pure flattery too, who knows?

“What kind of bartender doesn’t like alcohol?” [Name] asked, arching an eyebrow as watched Diluc with a wry smile, fiddling with the dessert glass you had just finished devouring.

Diluc paused for a moment, the cloth falling onto the counter with a restrained sigh. He stared at [Name] with an expression that was on the edge of patience, his eyes narrowed. "I don't think you're the ideal person to judge me," Diluc retorted, his fingers touching the glass gently. "Being the psychotic for sweets that you are, I mean."

You made a dramatic movement of placing your hand over your chest, simulating an expression of exaggerated offense.

"Aaah, but that has nothing to do with it! I don't own a wine cellar!" You replied, turning your face away.

"If I work as a gravedigger, do I need to be buried?" Diluc said dryly, placing the glass back on the shelf with precision.

"That doesn't even make sense!" [Name] exclaimed, shrugging. "You're just making things up because you have no arguments." the sarcasm was clear in your voice, but there was also a subtle glint in your eyes that suggested you was enjoying the exchange.

Diluc let out a sigh, looking more tired than irritated.

"Tell me, [Name], why exactly is someone who clearly doesn't enjoy alcohol here in my wine cellar, filling my counter with candy crumbs?" he asked, taking a step towards the counter to organize the bottles with meticulous precision.

[Name] made a dramatic gesture with the hands, smiling teasingly. "Oh, it's nothing. I just like looking at your face and your red hair~"

Diluc huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at [Name] with a mixture of irritation and resignation. “[Name], don’t you have anything better to do than break into my wine cellar and distract me while I work?” he asked, his tone exasperated but low enough not to draw the attention of his employees.

“No, actually, I don’t,” [Name] replied, with a mischievous smile that contrasted with Diluc’s scowl. “Besides, you have to admit that company does lighten the mood of this place. It’s so… melancholy. It seems like someone here is carrying a lot of grief.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t bite at the provocation. He slung the cloth over his shoulder and grabbed a fresh bottle of wine to organize the shelves, turning his attention back to his work. “If you think this place is gloomy, maybe you shouldn’t be here. I’m sure Jean or Albedo would love to hear your unnecessary comments elsewhere.”

“But neither of them have that hair,” [Name] replied, plucking an imaginary strand out of the air and twirling his fingers theatrically. “You know, you could use a little more lightheartedness. Maybe I should bring you some sweets next time. Something that matches your hidden charm.”

“I don’t need a lightheartedness, and certainly not your sweets scattered all over the counter,” Diluc retorted, finally turning to face him. “Why are you really here, [Name]? It can’t be just to tease me.”

[Name]’s expression changed for a moment, the playful smile softening. “Maybe I enjoy your company, Diluc. It’s refreshing to see someone so… genuine. No matter how grumpy they are.”

Diluc was silent for a few seconds, his red eyes fixed on the you. He sighed, as if admitting a silent defeat, and went back to work. "Do whatever you want. Just don't leave any more crumbs on my counter."

[Name] laughed, leaning forward to support him with her elbows. "I knew that deep down you like me, redhead. You just don't know how to admit it."

"In your dreams..." Diluc replied, but the corner of his mouth almost threatened to form a smile.

You're honestly annoying. But he likes you. But he doesn't admit it.

"You really don't talk much, do you?" [Name] commented, leaning forward a little. "But that's okay, I'm good enough for two." Your voice was filled with a confidence that didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm also the type who doesn't have the patience for a long silence. In my world, being the strongest is something that comes naturally. No one dares to doubt that, and I can assure you that my power is something... unquestionable."

“You talk too much.” Xiao finally replied, his voice low and somewhat harsh, as natural of his voice. “And yet… you have no idea what it means to truly carry the weight of eternity.” He pause. “I am a Yaksha, you know. We are more than just strength.”

"You have this aura of mystery, this... silence one. I'm very good at noticing details. And you, my friend, are full of them." You say, your tone naturally laden with arrogance, but Xiao sharpens his eyes.

"Very presumptuous for someone young." Xiao says, but shakes his head in the end.

It may not seem like it, but he is not bothered by your presence.

You tend to talk a lot, he honestly doesn't mind. It may seem like he's not listening, but he is.

He cares about you. Even though you keep saying that you are the strongest in your world. He wasn't around to see your displays of power, so he doesn't believe it.

He knows your arrogance will get you into trouble. That's why he's always around.

“Thoma, it’s been a while!” [Name] exclaimed with a wide smile, your eyes shining with amusement as you saw Thoma’s blond head in the distance at the shop where the Kamisato Clan’s caretaker was buying some items for the day.

Your voice echoed through the street, carrying an unmistakable confidence, as if you had just met an old friend after a long period of absence.

Thoma, who had been distracted by picking out some ingredients for dinner, looked up quickly, immediately recognizing [Name]’s presence. He smiled back, his expression friendly and relaxed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of humor.

“Oh, ah! [Name]!” he exclaimed, raising one of his hands in greeting. He took a step towards [Name], with his usual welcoming smile.

"How have you been, Thoma?" [Name] asked with a mischievous smile. "Continuing your mission to solve all the problems in Inazuma, as always?"

Thoma, for his part, chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, his eyes shining with amusement. “I try. But what about you? How’s life in Teyvat? Still enjoying your… ‘games’?” Thoma’s tone was friendly, in no rush to get serious about any conversation, but it was also a bit teasing. He knew [Name] had a tendency to make fun of situations and people, though he could also tell that behind that arrogance was something else, something more human.

“Ah, you know… Life is much more interesting when you can joke around with others. I can’t help but be amused by the situations you and your Kamisato Clan get yourselves into.”

Thoma laughed, his smile now wider, he had grown accustomed to this dynamic of teasing and teasing between them. "I know, I know. But if you need help with any problems, you know where to find me."

"I know," [Name] replied, smile turning into a more relaxed expression, but still with a glint of mischief in the eyes. "I just hope you don't get into too much trouble with your duties. I don't want you to be too busy to help me when I need it."

You two act like you've known each other for ages. It honestly surprises everyone around.

Thoma cares about you just like Xiao does, but he personally believes that you are capable of handling yourself even without ever seeing your displays of power.

You've known each other for a long time. A really long time. Like, since birth.

Aether knows you like the back of his hand. Your family has always been rich and famous in the world you came from, your clan being the largest. Yet, you know the twins by literally sneaking them into your house.

"Come on, come up!" A child [Name] insists at the small window of your room. Aether was crouched on the lawn and whimpered.

"I can’t do it! It's too high!" Aether says.

"Ugh, you crybaby!" [Name] grumbles.

You then start to rummage through your room looking for something. You grab a stool, quickly climbing onto it and leaning against the window. "Give me your hand."

"U-Uhh, but what if I fall??" Aether says hesitantly.

"Hurry up!"

Even though he was scared, Aether closed his eyes tightly and grabbed [Name]'s hand.

"I won't let go. I'll never let go." [Name]'s words made Aether open his eyes, seeing those deep vibrant blue eyes, and a smile. Not malicious like usual, but honest. "See? You don't have to be afraid of anything."

You didn't really let go of him. You never let go of him.

And he couldn't be happier about it.

You two will find Lumine. And you all will go home, together.

“Tsk, this is ridiculous.” [Name]’s voice was cold, but filled with a quiet anger that made even Lumine feel uncomfortable.

You had always been the type of person to keep himself in control, but when your emotions boiled over, it was clear how unpredictable you could be. Lumine watched as your made impatient gestures, she can count on one hand the times she's seen you so upset.

“That fatui trash thinks he can mess with you? Good news, he CANNOT,” [Name] continued, voice a bit louder than usual, revealing a fierce anger that rarely displayed.

You was referring to Tartaglia, who had tried to approach Lumine with a sly smile, his intentions veiled, as always. Lumine didn’t respond right away.

She leaned forward a little, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked.

“Because no one has the right to treat you that way,” you said, still carrying an inner strength that could not be ignored. “I will not allow some piece of weak trash to think he can do whatever he wants.”

“You really need to stop getting so angry over that small thing.” Lumine says, but quickly shakes her head. "I can take care of myself, you know."

“I know you can defend yourself, Lumine, but sometimes the world needs to remember who’s really in control.” [Nome] spoke with renewed confidence, but this time it was more of a statement than a threat.

"You don't have to worry, [Name]. I can take care of myself." Lumine said in a soft but firm tone.

[Name] watched her for a moment, and for a brief second, the gaze softened. "I know, Lumine. I know." You finally murmured.

Like, yeah. No one messes with the ones you care about.

[danthropologie]

Daniel for GQ Australia (x)

[moe-broey]

Does anybody wanna grab me by the hair and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the walland . I could use a little help hwre.

[denkies]

🐈 clan-confessions  Follow

i'll never say this publicly but honestly i think tigerstar had some valid ideas about having one big clan. obviously he was super wrong with all the violence and force, but one big clan could solve a lot of issues. No more border patrol fighting, more food for everyone during leaf-bare season, no drama involving cross-clan mates, etc etc. a lot of deaths could be avoided if we all took care of one another instead of fighting all the time

🌠 fishluvr76  Follow

ok are we all going to ignore that anon is siding with a literal DICTATOR??? :/

🌸 sweet-tooth  Follow

That's not what they meant and you KNOW it. They brought up some valid points about preserving lives, and denounced Tigerstar's actions as much too violent. Starclan above, no cat can have an opinion these days...

🌒 singlequeen7  Follow

Honestly I don't know how I feel about this... each Clan is beautifully unique and has their own traditions, which would fade away if Clans were desolved altogether. But OP makes a valid point about less violence and food scarcity. I hate the idea of sending my kits off to become Warriors, only for them to die during a stupid argument about Sunningrocks. A pile of rocks is NEVER worth a cat's life, whether they are in your Clan or not. And we have lost lives like that before.

🍄 medicinepawz  Follow

I agree! Traditions are important, but every medicine cat knows that working together saves lives. Sharing herbs can stop the spread of greencough, and sharing prey stops kits from crying from hunger. We really need a better system, because I can't cry myself to sleep another night, blaming myself for not having enough cobwebs to stop a kit from bleeding out in front of me.

🐅 lonelywarrior5346-deactivated

leave it to a woman and a medicine cat to emotionally manipulate proud warriors into giving up our PURECLAN bloodlines and Clan patriotism lolol

🍄 medicinepawz   Follow

HELLO?????

🐛 bug-enjoyer  Follow

> complains about "emotional manipulation" (it wasn't?)

> proceeds to be misogynystic AND racist in the same sentence???

> we get it babygirl, you want to fuck Tigerstar. weird ass mf.

🐈‍⬛ moondrops  Follow

"Lonelywarrior5346" is Flintstep from Riverclan btw

🌸 sweet-tooth  Follow

LMFAOOOOWAGWHQAKDHOA

🫐 berrycloud  Follow

GET HIS ASS

🌌 dorkstar  Follow

nah bc which one of you killed this dude yesterday lmfao 😭💀

🌸 sweet-tooth  follow

NO ARE YOU FR

🐛 bug-enjoyer  Follow

@ dorkstar say sike right now 😭😭

🌌 dorkstar  Follow

border patrol found him dead in a ravine 😭 yall play too much

🫐 berrycloud  Follow

when i said get his ass i did not mean like this

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[quantum1mmortality]

Im so glad you're writing for Curly bc I'm so obsessed with him rn!! May I suggest (if you haven't done them already) some soft/fluffy post burn hcs? Like finally seing him again after a long drive to the hospital, mentally preparing yourself for what he might look like. Curly being so afraid about how you'd react, and just breaking down when you let out an "oh, Curly :(" and softly place a hand on his cheek, so worried that you might hurt him by accident that it's hardly even a touch at all. Curly leaning his cheek into your palm, having been so scared to see you and now so desperate for your touch.

Life returning to a new normal after a while, prosthetics and PT, skin grafts, so on. Lying in bed with him and being so relived and happy when he gets a spark of mischief like he used to and tries to tickle or play wrestle with you. Him quietly asking questions when the laughter dies down. if you missed his lips, or the blond hair you loved so much that now hardly grew at all. Reassuring him that it didn't matter what he looked like, or what he could and could not do anymore. He's still your curly.

Sorry this turned out so long 😭 I can't get him out of my head!

I LOVE what you wrote 🙏🙏 I'll be going off of these, taking bits and pieces of your hcs and then putting them in here. Overall just gonna be fluffy post crash Curly hcs :)

Of topic, but the way some people in this fandom treat post crash curly makes me nauseous. Finding out that some of you wouldn't treat him like I would makes me wanna cry. Maybe I'm too empathetic or maybe I'm a baby back bitch, either way, I'd care for this man so much. Y'all don't understand how much I love him.

Tw/cw; none!! One curse word but that's literally it (I think)

Not proofread

Extremely sensitive to touch for the first few weeks. I feel as though curly would be in incredible pain, but would try his best to keep your hands touching his cheeks, face, body in general. He'd even go as far as to whimper at how bad it hurt, yet still enduring it because he needed to know you still loved him.

He'd be so happy to see you anytime you were around. Just like pre crash, but it was more special. It got to the point where you would take off work for weeks at a time just to be with him, just so you could see him happy.

After the first two months of agonizing pain, you'd start touching him more. Not sexual, obviously, but just getting more physically affectionate. You'd be able to hug and kiss him goodbye, and hold on to his arm as you talked with him.

Speaking of talking, he wouldn't be able to, so you would talk for him. Basically telling him something, then answering any questions he may or may not have. You've known him long enough, you know how he'd react and question things, so it was practically a no brainer for you.

Now that he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to from your touches, you'd begin sleeping with him. NOT SEXUAL!!! Just cuddling up next to him in the hospital bed, laying your head on his shoulders and kissing him goodnight. Just like how you used to.

Eventually he'd start getting prosthetics, and aside from the physical therapy he's usually getting, you'd bring board games and playing cards so he could learn to use his new hands while still spending time with you.

Curly used to kick your ass in uno and honestly he still does. The trembling in his hands would slowly go away over time, and you were helping him with that much more than his physical therapist was; because at least he wanted to actually be around you.

After months and months, he'd finally be ready to take home. New prosthetics and a bunch of skin graft surgeries later, he's in good condition again. Not perfect in his eyes, but it is in yours.

He wouldn't be able to work, but Pony Express sends him checks as if he was. He gets enough from them, you could quit your job, but you don't want to be dependent on them. So you keep working.

Getting home from work is your favorite part of the day, having Curly be so happy to see you makes everything so worth it.

Your home life goes back to normal with a few exceptions, but nothing too drastic. Curly being in a wheelchair and still not being able to speak, but it's nothing you can't handle. You love him, you're willing to make sacrifices. He'd do the same for you, and you know that.

Bonus content; if you guys were married before the crash, once he got his prosthetic hands, he'd have you help him make a little beaded necklace for his ring to go on; that way he could still wear it :) he'd never take the necklace off once it's done

A/N; I've been pretty busy recently so sorry for the delay on requests; I have a lot of ideas for them though so hopefully they'll be out soon

[barcaatthemoon]

bent || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia finds you at one of your lowest points.

"(y/n), hold on, i'm coming!" alexia's voice carried throughout your apartment. she had burst through the door in a panic, nearly breaking it off of its hinges as she raced through. she was normally so reserved and careful. you froze from where you stood in your bathroom, previously having been staring at yourself trying to muster the energy to finish getting ready.

it hadn't always been so difficult for you. sure, you had your days where the weight of the world was too much for you to bear, but it had been a long time. things hadn't been bad for you since you came back. barcelona was your home again, and alexia was finally yours in all of the ways that you had once dreamed of.

everything was perfect, and yet, you still had a slip up. you woke up with years of progress undone in a single night. it hadn't been anybody's fault except for your own. alexia had offered to stay with you, as had others, and yet, you declined. you felt like you deserved to be alone, and you woke up in the morning to empty bottles scattered around your living room.

"ale, what are you doing here?" you tilted your head as you looked at your girlfriend curiously. alexia was panting as she leaned against the doorframe. you turned your body around to actually face her instead of staring at her reflection. "d-did you see them? i'm really sorry, i thought i was better. it had been years, all flushed down the drain."

"it's not your fault, mi carina. you had a bad night, it's a setback. i'm just glad that i got here before something bad happened," alexia said. she slowly moved towards you, and it wasn't until her hands clasped around yours and pulled something from your grasp that you realized you had been holding a razor. "i'll take care of you until you learn to take care of yourself."

"i don't deserve that. i'm broken, defective, a fucking mistake. i'll just do it again, and you can't answer every time i'm in hysterics," you tried to tell her. alexia wasn't having any of it, not that you were surprised. she loved you and was stubborn enough to stay with you until you started getting better.

"i will always answer when you call. it might always be immediately, but know that i'll be there for talk to you. sometimes you just have to be patient with me. please, remember to be patient." alexia looked like she wanted to cry, and you felt awful about upsetting her. you knew that wasn't what you were supposed to focus on, but it was all that you could. "you're not broken, and if you are, then i'll sit with you and help you put the pieces back together."

"what did i do to deserve you?"

"you gave me a second chance," alexia told you.

…

"you know, this place is really not big enough for the both of us." you were nervous about where alexia could go with this. you were happy with her around, and the last thing you wanted was for alexia to have realized that you were really too much for her to handle. all of her reassurance that she loved over the past week could have been for show as she waited for the right moment to drop a bomb on you. "i think we should stay at my place for a bit."

"you're leaving?" you asked with an absolutely heartbroken expression. alexia didn't live with you, so you should have seen this coming. silently, you berated yourself for being so stupid.

"only if you're coming with me. i just thought we could stay at my house for a little while. it's closer to the beach, and the tourists are finally starting to leave. oh, and no offense, but my bed is a lot more comfortable than yours. my back kind of hurts, but i didn't want to sound like i was complaining," alexia rambled.

"alexia, you're old," you laughed. alexia scoffed as she turned away from you with her arms crossed over her chest. "it's okay though, your sheets are nicer than mine. i'm honestly surprised you haven't tried replacing my bedding again yet."

"the package hasn't arrived yet. there was a delay in shipping," alexia admitted. you rolled your eyes as you got up from the couch to pack a bag to go to alexia's. "does this mean we're leaving?"

"i heard you stretch this morning. another night here, and you'd need a walker," you teased. alexia huffed and grumbled as you continued making jokes. she could pretend all she wanted that you were annoying her, but you knew how happy she was that you were joking around with her again instead of beating yourself up over the smallest of mistakes. it was a far cry from the woman who had deemed herself as a complete waste of space that alexia had seen just a few weeks ago.

[bandgie]

What Sub? - SKZ OT8

just me thinking about what kind of sub skz would like :p

MDNI 18+ | gen!reader

chan!

likes an obedient sub! chan is such a good dom and loves pleasing his sub, so he expects you to be on your best behavior. that saying, he doesn't mind if you get a little shy or pout a little. maybe even give him a little bit of a hard time, but it can't be often. chan overall needs a good sub that he can pump his load into

minho!

he likes a teasing sub or a slight playful masochist. one that can put up with his antics and a little bit of back n forth. not a full on brat because he would get sick of that attitude real quick, but a few ass slaps and hair pulling never hurt no one. i do think he would want his sub to be more on the obedient side, but it's okay to have a little fun with him too

changbin!

power bottom!! he needs a power bottom!! he's a pleasure dom 100% and can't say no to his baby. you can take take take and he'll give give give!! you can be a little mean to him too, but he needs lots of kisses after. doesn't care what position you put him in as long as he gets to see you cum your brains out. however, there is fine line with him. it's rare, but sometimes you cross it and bin has to put you in your place, and he hatesss making you cry but when you're being a bad sub he needs to show you.

hyunjin!

he loves a devoted sub. basically someone who completely submits and does everything he says. like chan? but way more emotional and no room for disobedience at all. he loves seeing how happy and relaxed you are when he's doing his thing. hyunjin is also a pleasure dom, but he still likes to be in control. if you do break a rule, it's honestly a turn off. accidents happen and yeah maybe you get into it a little too much, but it's when it's purposeful and results in him feeling bad. Hyunjin's a good boy, and it's only fair he has a good sub

han!

is it possible for both of you to be subs...because hannie goes crazy for that. desperate sex is so in his field, so I think a sexual submissive sub is really his thing. basically someone who would do anything and everything sexual for their dom. he wants to do an icky role play? his sub will gladly agree. he wants to be treated poorly? like a god? yes and yes, a sexual submissive will do anything for him. he loves that so much and just telling you what he wants to do and you happily agreeing has him leaking

felix!

this one is hard because I think Felix likes anybody, but imma have to say a service sub might be his fav. he gets to lay back n relax and he gets to cum?? sounds like a great night. it's not like he won't do anything for you, but the thought of having someone to make sure to milk his cock dry is so hot. if you do well, he'll reward you after. but right now, making sure you can see his chest turn pink and little tears build in his eyes is all you need to worry about.

seungmin!

i know it's gonna sound so basic, but a bratty sub. the resisting, the fight for power, the inventible submission...yeah he likes that. this type of play can't happen all the time. it's very draining and takes a mental/physical toll, but it's so damn fun. he loves when he pretends that you won, letting you pin his arms above his head and grinding on his cock to your liking until he's had enough and flips you over. gripping a fist full of your hair and shoving your face in the sheets as he fucks into you. muffling your cries and whimpers and - sorry I'll stop (aftercare goes crazy btw)

jeongin!

jeongin needs someone who listens really good, so a bedroom submissive is the way to go. they're really similar to a service sub, but it usually involves a little bit of pain and being submissive only takes place in the bedroom whereas a service sub is usually someone who likes being a good sub outside of the sheets. jeongin likes seeing you turn into a different person during sex. getting to flip you in different positions, spitting in your mouth, making you please him, making you take how much he pleases you. possibilities are endless and he thinks it's a healthy balance between personal and social life

[ithebookhoarder]

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests for criminal minds but if you are could you do the BAU react to their so being a paramedic/firefighter? :))

If you decide to write this thank you in advance

(BAU Headcanons) If their S.O. was a paramedic/firefighter 🚨

A/N: You're very welcome! Here you are my angel. I'm always taking requests but I can't promise how long I'll take to reply and finish them 😅 Hope this is worth the wait. Also - major shout out to any first responders out there. You are literal superheroes! 💕

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, mentions of mental health, alcohol references, sexual references, references to death. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

Aaron would be honestly so in awe of you and what you do for a living. He’d also appreciate having a partner who understands what it’s like to have a job with unpredictable hours, such high stakes, and requires risking yourself to save people. 

As such, he would know how important it is to prioritise time together for the two of you. It’s why he is so active with forming a family calendar as he knows that, if it isn’t written in ink, you may never find an opportunity to do something. 

He is all about creating concrete plans for you both, so you have something to look forward to and actually have a chance of being able to arrange it, even if it’s months in advance. It doesn’t matter if it’s Jack’s soccer game, going for a jog in the park together, or a week-long vacation. 

However, he’s learned to be far more flexible if plans don’t work out the way you’d hoped. He’s had virtual Thanksgivings with you over the phone, a boxing-day Christmas, and even turned running errands on a day off into a date-day. 

We know Aaron would honestly hate knowing how much danger you’re in sometimes at work but he also knows he has no leg to stand on given his job and what he does every day. So, you both agree to let the other one know at least once a day that you’re ok, even if only by text. 

You’d have to agree to a ‘no work at home’ policy for you both to even stand a chance of relaxing at home and focusing on Jack (who thinks he has the coolest parents ever! Like, two superheroes for parents? He’s the luckiest kid in the world). 

Aaron would be such a proud partner too, even if he doesn’t always say it out loud. He shows it in his face every time he and Jack come to visit you at work, or when he displays a picture of you receiving an award on his desk for everyone to see. 

He even helps Jack when he asks to go as you for Halloween one year - the sight of which made you cry so hard you couldn’t even speak for a good hour after. Instead, you snap a picture and carry it with you everywhere when you leave the house, and even stick a copy in your locker. 

He’d have notifications set too, tracking incidents in your area so he knows when you may be working or out on a job. He’s also not above pulling the ‘FBI’ card if he even hears of someone making your life hard at work. 

He’d also be the biggest hypocrite, always worried you’re not getting enough sleep or eating enough, despite him running on no sleep and three expressos. 

He’d also be the first to rip into you if he found out you’d taken some unnecessary risk whilst out on a call. 

“I have enough worrying about my own idiots over here without worrying about you doing something stupid too. Please, you need to be more careful, ok? I can’t and won’t lose you. Not like that.”

David Rossi 

Rossi has lost many people over the years so he would definitely be terrified of losing you, and getting hurt. However, he knows what it’s like to have a passion for helping people and he’d never stop you from doing what you love and making a difference.

Besides with his crazy schedule he doesn’t mind having a partner who is mostly out working, or also operates on a crazy schedule. It’s almost complimentary, and allows you both not to miss each other too badly when you’re busy. 

Rossi strikes me as a supportive partner in his own ways. For instance, he would make massive donations to fundraisers for your department and for causes supported by your work. He wouldn’t even tell you most of the time, leaving you to work out where the mystery million dollars came from overnight after you just so happened to mention it to him over dinner. 

Speaking of dinner, he’d be keen to invite your colleagues over to his place for social functions, offering to hosts BBQs and family dinners. He’d also invite his BAU family too, knowing how nice it is for your worlds to mix and for people to relax amongst people who get what it’s like to deal with difficult issues. 

He also makes homemade dinners at least once a week, cooking enough so that you both have leftovers to take to work for the next few days. 

He’s also keen to share any recipes he can with you, so you know how to make them when you’re on shift for hours on end. 

“Just because you’re busy saving lives doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t take care of you too!”

This man would also make sure to call you whenever he gets a chance, especially if he is away on a case. He likes hearing your voice and makes sure to ask all about your day so far, knowing its good for both of you to touch base. 

Derek Morgan

This man would be the biggest supporter and cheerleader. Like, you know your pictures are all over his desk and he’s always bragging about how you saved someone’s life whenever he gets a chance. 

“Oh yeah, that’s my baby. They’re a literal superhero. They’re badass.”

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you when you’re away working or if he sees some major incident on the news. He’ll be refreshing his phone over and over until he sees a text from you telling him you’re ok. 

You know he will also be begging Penelope to see what she can find out too, through any means necessary (Hotch doesn’t exactly have to know about it…)

You bet your ass that if he does hear you’re hurt or if something is wrong then he will be bolting his way down to the ER or wherever you are the minute he is able to. Penelope would likely be one step ahead of him if he was unable to be there right away taking care of you until he can.

Morgan is such a good care giver too. He knows how hard it is to take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself so is King of supporting healthy habits. I’m talking meal plans so you eat right, proper sleeping habits when you can make them work, and getting out of your apartment on your days off.

He’s all for vegging on the sofa sometimes but he’s keen to support you where he can and remind you there’s a world outside of work and your home. 

He would be the kind of partner who would suggest doing things together as a couple, whether it’s a daily jog in the park or even training for some kind of race. This gives the two of you a shared goal and also shared time together - including in the shower once you get home. 

“What? It’s twice as fast this way and costs half the water bill, sweetheart.”

Also, you know this man gives the world’s best massages and he would be only too willing to give you one when you get home. He’d even try and wait up for you if he could, although you’ve come home more than once to find him passed out on the sofa. 

Emily Prentiss

With her track record of trusting and being betrayed by people I think Emily would be extremely anxious about having a first responder for a partner, even if she would also be totally amazed by you and thinks you’re so badass. 

Like, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t be beaming ear to ear if you ever came to visit the BAU. She would be showing you off to everyone and anyone, giving them all a face to put to the name she’s been talking about for weeks. 

“Babe, you’re amazing. You’re literally saving lives every day. All I did yesterday was fill out a stack of paperwork as big as my arm.” (She ignores the disapproving look Hotch shoots her for that comment…)

It’s just that she’s scared about losing you and it would take you both a while to work out how to make your relationship work and communicate effectively with one another about your fears. I mean, it’s not like you aren’t as equally worried about her but it takes a while for you both to accept that it’s a part of your relationship and that neither of you are willing to give your jobs or each other up. 

When she’s away on a case, or if you’re working overnight, then she won’t be able to sleep unless she sees she has a text from you telling her you’re ok and still in one piece. Of course, she prefers to be able to call if she can but knows it isn’t always possible for both of you if you’re in the middle of a shift. 

She’s a safe space so wouldn’t take it personally when you get home and have fatigue, adrenaline dumps, or just lack any potential excitement or energy for plans you made in advance. 

She’ll meet you where you are, whether it’s cancelling plans and staying in, or going out anyway because you need a distraction. As long as she’s with you then she’s happy and it isn’t like she doesn’t do the same thing after a really bad case. 

Also, we know that you’re the only one she trusts to look after Sergio when she isn’t there, knowing you will be better having someone to cuddle, feed, and look after when you’re not on shift. You become Penelope’s version of Sergio too, as Emily instructs their tech analyst to keep an eye on you both when she can’t. 

She’d be keen to spoil you from time to time and indulges on takeout, trips to the movies, and wants to take you to as many amazing places on holiday as she possibly can. She knows it’s good to travel and to have a complete break from your daily routine. Plus, she knows so many people and so many languages that you’re spoilt on choices of where to stay next. 

JJ

I honestly feel like JJ would struggle having a first responder for a partner. She’d be such a Momma Bear that its both wonderful and intimidating.  Like, we know she and Will worked it out eventually with him being a cop, but the fear of losing you would be a big issue for the two of you for a while. As would be navigating how you both deal with the other’s feelings after a bad day on the job. It takes some trial and error before you get into the swing of things. 

For example, she would give the best pep talks and would also know just what to say after a bad day. 

“You did everything you could, sweetheart. I am so proud of you and you saved so many lives today. You may not have been able to save that one, but they knew you tried. They knew you were there and that you cared. That’s all we can ask for in the end. You are amazing and I’ve got you.” 

When you’re both home together, or if you’ve told her you’re having a rough shift, then bath times are a must. She normally has one run, with candles lit, by the time you get in the door. She is also keen to crack open a bottle of wine, or whatever you drink you want, to help you both relax as you lie together in the warm, soapy water and just forget everything for a little while. 

She’d also insist on you both leaving voice messages for the other when you were away, so you could wish the other a ‘goodnight’. It’s comforting to her but she also likes being able to share them with Henry too. 

Speaking of phones, this ex-media liaison would have so many alerts set up and contacts to call if she even suspects you may be out on a major incident. It’s honestly kind of mind-blowing how quickly she managed to get on the phone with your superior, after hearing you could be out on a job that had gone awry. She was in a different state at the time but wouldn’t hang up until they told her what had happened, where you were, and if you were alright. 

She’s also keen to support you in a practical sense, so offers to do loads of laundry for you between shifts and also cleans the house as a way of making sure you have a nice home to come back to. You’d be sure to return the favour when you could, but she likes doing it and being able to show her appreciation for you in such a basic but important way.

JJ would be way more relaxed leaving Henry with you if she’s away, knowing your training makes you like the best possible babysitter ever. 

That, and you cannot tell me that Henry would not worship the ground you walk on. After finding out what you do for work, that little angel would make siren noises whenever you’re in the car together - something you’re keen to encourage as “everyone knows the best part of the job is turning the siren on, JJ. Duh.”

Luke Alvez

Luke would be so proud and so scared for you sometimes, being a first responder. 

Luke would understand that you both have super stressful jobs so is keen to suggest a ’leave work at the door’ policy unless one of you really wants to share. He knows sometimes all he wants to do after a challenging case is walk in the door and face-plant on the sofa and he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t let you do the same… that doesn’t mean he won’t reach over and gently pull of your boots for you, and leave a glass of something on the coffee table for when you feel like it.  

He is also a firm believer that Roxie cures everything, so would be only too happy to leave her with you when he’s out of town, so you can have all the cuddles and playtime you want. 

He also walks her by your work if he gets time so you can come out and sneak a cuddle if you’re not too busy or on a job. Roxie is now your work’s unofficial therapy dog and she loves her role - and the added attention very much. (And you best know she has her own little version of your uniform too).

I feel like he’s the kind of guy who would wake up with you if you have an early start, even if he doesn’t, just so he can cook breakfast and make you coffee in your favourite to-go mug. 

“You deserve to start your day in the right way, so go and enjoy your shower, baby, and it’ll be ready for you when you come out.”

He’d also leave you stupid little love notes in your bag too, knowing they make you smile when you find them later on. You also like to keep them and stick them in your locker for luck, and normally have one tucked in your pocket too. 

He’d also recommend different kinds of music for you to listen to on shift, making you playlists you can share and add to when you’re not together. It’s got so bad your co-workers refuse to let you have the aux when you’re driving around anymore as your choices are so varied they get whiplash. 

Luke also loves getting involved wherever he can, whether it’s donating time to help organise a fundraiser, bringing pizza by work, or going with you as a date to any formal events you’re invited to. He scrubs up niceeee and he loves seeing you all dressed up formal too. 

Penelope Garcia 

Penelope would worship the ground you walk on and frets about you like she frets about all her BAU babies when they’re out on a case - but WORSE.

So she does what she does best and compensates with love and kindness. She takes care of the people she loves and you would know that better than anyone. This queen would totally make you care packages and would make sure you had them delivered when you’re on shift. 

“You spend all your time taking care of other people, my real life knight in shining armour. The least I can do is make sure you have some fluffy socks, face masks, and other basic pamper essentials to take care of yourself! Oh, and don’t forget the protein shake I made for you! And stay hydrated! And be safe!”

She’d make sure to send gifts for your co-workers too. It’s why she’s the favourite spouse of all your colleagues and she’s greeted like the queen she is whenever she visits. 

Her cookies have earned her the unofficial title of ‘Star Baker’ and you best know there have been physical fights over them whenever you’ve left them in the crew mess. In fact, your boss has had to give you all warnings about it as a result, calling ‘dibs’ on them if you couldn’t all be trusted to share. 

She would also give you one of her many mascots for the dashboard of your rig, knowing that the little bobblehead or whatever will remind you of her when you’re out on a call. 

Speaking of calls, you know she is tuned in to all scanners / messaging systems so knows exactly where you are at all times, but especially if there is a call out. You best believe she is making sure you’re ok and has her eyes and ears open if you need help of any kind or back-up. 

As a result, you know she has been scolded more than once by Hotch and by the local authorities for interfering and hijacking calls when she thinks you’re being ignored or need assistance. 

Penelope would also be the first person to encourage you to attend some kind of support group, or seek out some kind of therapy, to help deal with all the stressful and traumatic things you deal with on a day to day basis. She would be only too happy to help you find one and would drive you there and back when she’s able. She’d even come along if you wanted her to. 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer would be an incredibly proud partner and you know it. He would show his support in various different ways and would absolutely take any and all opportunities to remind people he’s dating a superhero (especially Morgan). He doesn’t understand why someone as amazing as you would choose to date someone like him. 

He would like giving you book recommendations so you always have something to read on shift. He’d give you his copies to borrow, so you can enjoy his pencil notes in the margins when he’s not with you. 

Not only that, but he’d also be happy to take recommendations from you too - no matter how different they may be from his usual reading material. That way you can both compare notes when you both get home and leave work behind for a moment.  

Also, you know Spence would be a fountain of knowledge about your job and has probably read up on anything he didn’t already know about your field. There isn’t a piece of jargon or code that he doesn’t know and he loves trying to use it when talking to your colleagues when he visits sometimes. It earns him their respect, which you know he would be nervous about, as your co-workers are like your second family. He’s that way with the BAU and he wants to impress the people who mean the most to you. 

His thirst for knowledge means he is always willing to let you practise different exercises on him and is keen to learn whatever you’re willing to tell him (something that has come in handy on many of his own cases). 

In return, he would like sharing whatever statistics he has memorised about the work you do. It’s also why he is so concerned about you, knowing how much your role takes out of you. His job is tiring and traumatic enough, but he is at least part of a big team and works only one case at a time. 

“I’m just saying sweetheart, it’s estimated that 30% of first responders develop behavioral health conditions including, but not limited to, depression and PTSD, as compared with 20% in the general population. If you ever want to talk to me or someone else, like a professional, then you know that’s ok.”

As much as he isn’t an overly affectionate person, I feel like he’d be the kind of person to buy you both those bracelets that you can tap and it sends a pulse to the other, letting them know you thought about them. It’s like a virtual tap on the shoulder just to let you both know they’ve got you and love you. 

He’d also drive the doctors insane if you ever got hurt on the job, yelling at them to double check their diagnosis if he even thinks you’re not getting the best treatment and care possible. 

He’d also insist on taking care of you during your recovery, not trusting anyone else to do it right - and he also has Dr Who primed for your entertainment. What could be better than that?

Masterlist

[ssentimentals]

Hiii! Would like to request for mingyu + 45 pleaseee. Thank you!

hi, love!💜 thanks for the request, hopefully you will like it!

45. kiss out of anger (kim mingyu)

'you're being insufferable.'

'me? who's the one with all the dramatics here?' mingyu throws both of his hands in the air, twirling around like some kind of ballerina to make his point.

you sceptically raise your eyebrow. 'yep. i'm the one with dramatics here.'

mingyu huffs and rolls his eyes, but settles against the couch comfortable, staring you down. honestly, you two've been going over this whole thing for the past two hours and you are very close to simply storming out of this room. the only reason of you staying put is because you know that mingyu won't let you go very far - he'll catch you and bring you back and will make you stay here until we both come to some kind of a conclusion. right now it looks impossible but mingyu is an optimist, so he tries again: 'listen, i'm asking for one thing. can't you just give in once?'

'mingyu, don't make it sound like i'm the tyran who never gives in to you. i said no, can't you just let it be? i'm tired of explaining the same thing over and over again.'

'well then explain once again, because i didn't get anything.' he crosses his arms over the chest and glares, making a whole show of 'i am staying here and not moving'. 'and while you're at it, maybe think that if i'm not getting it because you're not making any sense.'

deep breath. you take a deep breath and close your eyes, because staring at mingyu right now makes your desire to punch him in the face skyrocket. mingyu is such a 'let's solve it right now' guy, while you are 'i need time to think' girl and it's a miracle how you both stay together for such a long time despite this difference. and maybe this is what you need to focus on right now? that you both stayed together despite it and how this is not your first ever fight. there were many fights but you still stayed together and logically you know that this fight will dissolve too, but it's hard to stay calm at this exact moment. 'kim mingyu,' you call out in a tired voice, 'i think it's time we both take a break in this fight. you go to the kitchen, i'll stay here and how about we meet in an hour and come back to this topic again?'

mingyu pouts. 'thirty minutes.'

'one hour, mingyu.' you push strictly, glaring at him. 'is that too much to ask?'

'one hour is way too long,' he comments and god, he's still pouting. why your boyfriend is an overgrown child? why you are so hopelessly in love with him? 'okay, forty minutes. but we both stay here, i'm not going to the kitchen. what if you start crying? i need to be here.'

how mingyu manages to be both heart-wrenchingly endearing and annoying as fuck is beyond you. 'you're either going to the kitchen or i'm leaving this apartment, mingyu.'

'fine!' he stands up from the couch, obviously angry. 'fine! have it your way! i'm going to the kitchen!'

he stomps for dramatic effect and your can't help but smile a little at that. god, what a child. you love him so much. before moving to turn away, mingyu suddenly rushes towards you and kisses you soundly on the mouth, not letting you even take a breath.

'wha-'

'i love you,' he says angrily, frowning. 'you're pissing me off right now, but i love you. don't forget it. got it?' you nod dazedly. 'good. now i'm off to the kitchen. call me if you start crying.'

you weakly push on his shoulders, suddenly feeling like you're about to cry. 'i'm not gonna cry.'

'mhm.' mingyu rolls his eyes and walks away. 'tissues are on your left.'

[thedivinetexts]

uhh. sorta brat tamer!price punishing reader for flirting with ghost? overstim, daddy kink, afab terminology. he calls you his good girl a few times

- 🐰 -

you act like you don't understand why he's doing this to you.

price has you on your elbows and knees — well, knees. your arms gave out after the last orgasm, leaving you to claw at the sheets for any shred of stability. you're still recovering from it, breaths coming out as gasping little things in between the whimpers and whines. the pads of his thick fingers continue to circle your clit, unrelenting even after wringing three orgasms from you so far.

your hips try to jolt away from his touch, his rough callouses just on the wrong side of too much, but price's other hand is firm on your hip. you won't be able to escape him unless he lets you.

"j-john," you keen, voice warbling pathetically, "please, it's - it's too much -!"

your complaint melts into a little squeal as he stops circling your clit, only to pinch it between his thick digits. he coos darkly at your shaking.

"shhshh, darlin', you can take it." he says. his voice is sickly sweet, a condescending comfort. "this is your punishment, sweet'eart. you can be a good girl for me and take it, right?"

you shake your head in an almost frantic manner, absolutely sure that you can't. he murmurs some more sweet nothings at the almost sobbed protests that spill from you. he wouldn't be surprised if you are crying, honestly. 'specially when he starts up again; light and quick, this time.

"no? love, you deserve this, remember?" price reminds you, voice a low rumble. he keeps a careful eye on the trembling of your thighs, ready to support you himself if he's gotta. ready to pull away, if you're really spent enough to call it. "you spent all evening hangin' off Simon, did'ya think I was gonna let that slide? you're mine, love. I'm jus' remindin' you."

"sorry — I'm s-sorry — please, please," you immediately start to gasp. he thinks it's adorable how quickly you start begging for his mercy once you remember what you're being punished for.

"theeeere you go," he groans. your mewling apologies and pleading is like music to his ears. "Sing fo' me, lovie."

hangin' off ghost, honestly. like the man wouldn't notice a pretty young thing like you watching him the whole night at the bar. like he wouldn't be chomping at the bit to get a piece of you, if you got too close.

price expects you to behave around his lads; you know they're ravenous dogs, waiting for his scraps. it's price who decides when to share what's on his plate though, not you. what morsel has a say in who gets to eat them?

"have ya learned your lesson, sweet'eart?" price asks in the same condescending tone as before. you're too far to care about the slightly mean note to his words, other than the fact it makes you clench around nothing. price chuckles when he sees it. "yeah, baby? ready to be a good girl for daddy?"

you nod jerkily, and price clicks his tongue at you. you know better — he needs words outta you, not just empty-headed gestures. in the meantime, his fingers continue to stroke your sensitive clit, making your hips jump in his hand. it is a punishment, after all.

"i'll be good," you sob the promise. even though it stings, you can't help but rock back onto his fingers, desperate for more. for something more filling. "john - ah, daddy, please, i need your cock, please!"

his fingers are off you in a flash. you almost collapse, relief and disappointment at the lack of stimulation mixing into neediness. you don't have to wait more than a moment before price is flipping you around. muscles flexing, clearly not breaking a sweat as he manhandles you onto your back. he parts your legs, not that you make an effort to shut them. you're too worn out to fight, even if you wanted. you don't, though. he can see the want in your eyes.

"there's my good girl," price groans, reaching between your legs again to prod your puffy lips apart. you whine half-heartedly at him, and he pays it no mind. too busy reaching into his trousers to free his aching cock. it looks an angry red after being neglected for your punishment. he groans, low and deep, as he slides the tip through your folds with almost no resistance. "didn't even have'ta tell you to beg for it. you're so wet f'r me, aren't ya, love?"

"please," you whimper. you feel almost like a broken record, but price clearly enjoys it, the way his eyes somehow go a shade darker.

"alrigh', sweet girl, i got you. i know what'cha need."

price could tease you longer, but he's got a soft spot for you. how can he say no to those tears streaking down your cheeks, especially when you don't even seem to notice them. you took his punishment — it'll be another week or two before you start flirting with one of his boys again. for now he'll give you what you want.

he pushes into you in one fluid movement thanks to the slickness of your cunt. it knocks the wind out of your lungs, head craned backwards and eyes fluttering. the both of you moan in unison; his a low timber and yours a high gasp. you rock against him as soon as he's hilted in you — desperate for another release, this time around his cock. as it ought to be.

for a moment price watches you fuck yourself using his cock with half-lidded eyes, reveling in your enthusiasm. depravity, maybe. whichever it is, he enjoys the view.

then he snaps his hips forwards. you choke on a moan, hands flitting between clawing at the sheets and clawing at his arms. price sets a quick pace; he knows you've got to be exhausted by now. as much as he'd love to spend another hour or eight fucking into your wet, warm heat, he can tell you won't last. already you're clenching down around him, chanting ah ah ahs that has him growling back.

"jus' like tha'," he groans, dropping his head to bury against your neck. your arms wrap around his chest, nails pulling at hair just the way he likes. he might not last either at this rate. he can feel the vibrations of your voice as he plants kisses along your neck — you sound gorgeous. broken.

he shifts his hips, fucking up where he knows your sensitive spot is, and listens to you wail. price nips at your jugular and pounds at the spot. your hands scrabble against his back and he lifts his eyes just in time to see yours roll back. he didn't think you could get any tighter but you do — always making daddy proud, the way you surprise him. he groans again as you come around him, his own thrusts stuttering from their previous machine-like pace. it only takes a few more whimpers from you before he's spilling deep inside. he fucks the both of you through it slowly, before he finally relaxes on top of you.

the two of you lay panting for a few minutes, basking in your afterglow. he gathers you close and presses a kiss to your forehead. chuckles when you pull away, whining petulantly at the beard scratching at you.

"tha's my good lass," he murmurs. "go to sleep, love. i'll clean ya up."

[vandal-flower]

Great Power Comes with No Responsibilities

Ror men with a powerful but lazy s/o.

Requested by 🦅 anon.

Characters: Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Buddha and Loki.

Warnings: A bit of angst in Jack's part. 😶

Notes: Do you think I wrote too much this time?

Scenario:

"Female god reader who is extremely powerful but lazy , lazy in the means she liked to lie down and sleep a lot , if she wants to she could kill zeus and she can be really intimidating but shes soft around them."

Qin Shi Huang

He didn't even notice you were a god.

You looked too exhausted to function, and yet you were ready to fight whomever tried to harm him.

He would take care of any obstacles that would dare present itself to him, but he loves how you sort the situation than he does.

There were times where you offered to lift his curse, but he declined.

According to him, if he as an emperor could not endure this curse, how could he rule a nation.

You haven't heard such wise words from anyone else before. You smile at him, and gently give him a kiss on his head.

No one dares to challenge either of you as they fear the both individually.

In private, he declares his love and loyalty for you, as the two of you embrace each other.

"Even if the Heavens dare to object our love, we'll remain ontop."

Jack the Ripper

He's honestly surprised how someone like you could love a man like him.

He has faced many hardships, threats and much more from people who knew him and those who don't.

However, when it comes to you, he can't help but cry a little at the smallest hint of love and kindness someone has ever given him.

Someone who is even more powerful than Zeus himself. Despite your intimidating nature, he finds it soothing.

Especially when you are so soft around him. He often wonders what he did to be loved and cherished by someone like you.

Many wanted to end his life even before he fought Hercules. He is very thankful that you continue to defend him even with your reputation at stake.

You often don't mind defending him against the other gods, after all he is your lover.

It's unknown how you two got together, but it does not matter as the two of you are head over heels for each other. (Good for you.)

"I don't know what I did to have to have you in my life, but I promise to cherish our time forever my dear."

Buddha

My guy here is taking advantage of the whole situation.

You can't blame him though, he is literally in a relationship with someone who is as strong, if not stronger than a primordial god!

Many wonder how in the world did you end up with someone like him, but seeing how lazy you are, it makes sense.

Often times, when Zeus threatens to punish him, you put Zeus in his place, promising an eternity of pain should he ever hurt your lover.

The smirk on his face says it all. (Me too.)

He is happy at the fact that even though you are powerful enough to defeat Zeus, or any chief god, you don't get arrogant.

Despite how powerful you are, he treats you the same way he treats everyone, just with more affection.

You bet he's telling Jataka about you, and how much he loves you!

"Thanks for taking care of the other gods for me. I'll cuddle you later if you want honeybun."

Loki

Another one on the list of taking advantage of this, however to an even greater degree. (What did you expect?)

Whenever he pranks Thor or Odin, he immediately runs to you. The two can't do anything but give him a death glare.

He's busy giggling his bum off behind your back, as you wake up from your nap and question who woke you up.

He often questions you if Zeus truly is the Grandfather of the Cosmos. To which you reply an exhausted, "No, it's only because he is powerful and looks older than he is."

At first he thought you were a demigod due to how sluggish you were acting. But quickly straightened up after seeing Zeus treat you with more respect than anyone.

He tried pranking you, but you were too tired to notice anything. And when you did notice, it backfired on him, resulting to him being confined in the emergency room.

He definitely thinks you're weird and has voiced this, but knows you won't care either way. He also tries to get a reaction from you.

He likes telling you the latest stories (or gossip) from the Heavens. You sometimes stay awake just to hear them.

"Apparently there was a rumors spreading around about Aphrodite's beauty salon."

I probably wrote too much didn't I.

My inbox is open. Check out my Rules.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!

[carmenized-onions]

Don't Say It. | Closing Out

logline; just say it in every way but the one way that makes it weird.

[!!!] series history; did y'all notice the banner rebrands? tell me you think they look nice and good and cool or i'll. start crying.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. how is it more than 7 hours. my god.

portion; 14k was hoping we'd reenter our single digits era but we ball

possible allergies; two mentally ills battle it out (romantic).

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader almost certain there are gendered bits/pronouns but can't honestly completely remember.

(new!) kofi; I have one now! if you've enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

moving into a new place literally in two days!! high stress. so thank you for waitin' as always pwease enjoy and pwease tell me what you think!

You take a good long breath, sitting on the counter in the bathroom. Right. Time is linear and you’re in New York again— Never left. Right. Carmen’s sitting across from you, it’s kind of a shock this floating sink counter hasn’t collapsed under the two of you yet. How long have you been here? Swapping stories took a long fucking time, and there’s still, disgustingly, a lot to unpack. 

“Any shoes left undropped?” You drum your hands against your knees, the question is as much for yourself as it is for him.

Carmen opts to open with a soft ball. “You called me Carmy?” Before you knew me, you called me Carmy?

“I called you a lot of things.”

“Like virgin Michelin Star chef?” He’s failing to hide the upturned corners of his mouth, when he says it. 

You snort and nod, “Like virgin Michelin Star chef, or Carmy, or Carm, or baby boy, baby bear, mister New York— Basically all Mikey’s, I think the only one I coined was Charmin.”

“Charmin?”

“Like the—” He finishes with you, “—Toilet paper bears.” and whether he should be or not, he cannot stop laughing, when you confess this. 

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” “Bitch—Cause you clean up, and you’re a bear, and Carmen sounds like Charmin, and Charmin sounds like charming and I—”

You pause, cringing, parasocial relationship coming to a head now. When your best friend wants you to get with his hot talented brother living in the Big Apple, it’s hard not to fantasize about, alright? “...I found you very charming.”

God, it’s just far too easy for you to render him completely speechless. It’s really not fucking fair. Carmen looks like a deer in headlights, he looks how he did in your car, a month or so ago, when he bit the bullet and asked you out. Well, promised to ask you out. He swallows, no more glass in his throat, but it does feel a little scratchy, kinda like, like pop rocks?

Pop rocks, yeah. Sweet, salivating. “Do you still?”

You squint, like he’s a moron. He is. “Of course I do.” Cherry pop rocks. Yeah, that sort of spritz feeling, on the tongue, and the way it continues to simmer all the way down. “I don’t want you to stop being you, by the way, Carm.”

“Huh?” What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you want him to change, he sucks.

“I—” You’re quick to clarify, straightening your posture. “I think it’s great to— to do the work, and therapy and reading and self-care— That’s all— That’s very good, and you should do it— For you, not me, but I— One bad night is not how I’ll think of you— You’re— You’re not a bad person, is I guess all I’m trying to fuckin’ say.”

You’re sweet. Sweet but with depth, slowly developed, caramelized, tart. Maybe a fruity molasses.

Carmen swallows, it’s hard to digest the sweet. “I— I’m not a bad person, but I could be better.” Pomegranate molasses. It’s got an acidic kick. Sort of like balsamic.

“I could be better, too.” Could you? Please God, don’t try, he can’t compete. No, shit, hold on, stop pedestaling. “You kinda got my ass, with peoples’ princess.”

Carmen cringes, there’s the acid. “I should not have said—”

“I have a fucking saviour complex, Carm. And it’s just as bad for everyone else as it is for me.”

Bite, yet tender. You continue on. “I do need to work on that. And I should’ve explained more when we first met, it was just— You know… I know you know.” Medium rare, steak medallion— No— rectangle. 

Pomegranate molasses, thick—Nearly sorbet thick. Poured onto the plate, centered, perfect circle. Medium rare wagyu steak— A3, maybe; too much fat would ruin the composition. Rectangular, off center. Dust with cherry pop rocks. Bizarre, but it might actually be something. Bad, but something. Not tired or overdone, that’s for sure. Anything but dusty.

Carmen missed you for a lot of reasons this week, but it’s almost annoying how merely being in your presence for a few hours has given him more inspiration to work with than he has had in the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours, without you. But who’s counting?

It’s easy to make things, when they’re for you. When they’re about you.

“I should’ve listened, when you were ready, but I got defensive and—I— I do that a lot, clearly, I just—” Carmen tries not to bite at his nails and fingers, because his therapist, Sara, said not to do that. What the fuck does she know? A lot, actually.

“That’s just kinda how— we’d do things. Like that’s how we—” Carmen frowns, memories dawning on him. “…I guess maybe we never really talked.”

You don’t need to ask who we is. His family didn’t particularly set Carmen up for success. And every figure after his family didn’t really lighten the load. There’s not much for you to say or do beyond, “I like talking to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re allowed to still be mad at me.” Carmen reassures, he’s not sure why he feels the need to do so. “You can— You can tell me to go fuck myself.” 

You shake your head, shrugging. “You can tell me to go fuck myself.”

He shakes his head, immediately, squinting, like you’re a moron; you are. “I would never tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It’s a silent moment of exchanging hard stares and trying to glean something from the other. Once you gather your findings, you finally return to your era of speaking in sync again, with, “I don’t hate you.”

It's a hellish realization, that you thought it was possible, let alone certain, to hate you. He could cry again. “Why would you ever think I hate you?”

You raise your brows, because how could you not think Carmen hates you? “Because you said—”

“I didn’t mean a fucking word.”  He says it differently than he did before. Like it’s a final warning. He immediately recoils at his own voice and its aggression.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen scratches his nose, continuing for the both of you. What more can he say? He’s already said it a million times, so what’s one more? When you try to speak, he doesn’t let you. Because he knows you. He knows you’ll brush it off. “I don’t want you to forgive me, right now. I want to prove I earned it.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

“Yeah, Sara said that, too. You’re both wrong.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your therapist can be wrong, in this scenario.”

“Please.” Carmen props his knee up on the counter, his hands, in some way, mimic a prayer. He holds eye contact, he thanks whoever is in charge that you’re holding it again, too. “Let me earn it.”

Carmen will learn that he doesn’t need to earn anything or prove anything to anyone eventually. He’ll need more than six therapy sessions crammed in during his lunch breaks, for that. But right now, he needs to prove this. Needs to earn you. For now, you'll give it to him. For now, you just nod. 

Carmen chews his bottom lip, he doesn’t want to say it but he has to. “When I said—” You failed Mikey. “—What I said— I didn’t mean it how I said it.”

You bring your legs up, criss crossing them. “How’d you mean it?” How else could he possibly mean it?

“I meant it like— Like— Of course he died.”

They’re Berzatto men, they’re doomed. “Nothing you could have done would have stopped him from dying— And I— It hurt cause it felt like— In—In that moment— In my head—” He puts a hand up, pausing to reassure, “Nothing you did. But I felt like I was ‘Round Two’ for you. Charity. I—”

Carmen swallows, looking down, can’t meet your eyes for the moment, but he points at you. “You didn’t fail Mikey— He failed to know he was worth saving.”

A wound closes up, a little bit, somewhere in your head and heart.  “I think in some ways, I was trying to make up for something—”

You’re quick to clarify, too. “But not cause you’re you— Cause I’m me.” Have to do it all. Have to fix it all. Have to save it all. “Like— I think I might have that edge of paranoia for like, like a long time, if not… forever?”

 You frown; what a bleak idea. “Fuck, I may need to go back to therapy, too.”

“You want Sara’s card?” “Sliding scale?” “Sliding scale.” “Is it weird to have the same therapist?” “Probably.” “I’ll look into it.”

You both laugh, the weighted blanket of tension over you both is finally lifting. Carmen’s capable of looking you in the eyes again. “You did literally everything someone could think of.”

You kiss your teeth, you could’ve done a couple more things. “I mean, location—”

“He never would’ve given it to you.” “That’s exactly it, though— I should’ve put my foot down more. I was never as strict as I was supposed to be.” “But if you were strict he wouldn’t let you help him.” “Sponsors are meant to be strict.” “Then he wouldn’t’ve let you be his sponsor.” “Then I shouldn’t have been his sponsor!” “Then he would’ve never joined the program!” “Well—” “It’s not your fucking fault!”

Carmen doesn’t hate you, Carmen doesn’t think you killed his brother. Heavy exhale of too many emotions and a touch of relief. But you can see yourself in his expression. You can see Richie in his expression. The guilt. The haunting. You swallow, “Not yours, either.”

“I could’ve called more.” “He wouldn’t have answered.” “I could’ve realized why.” “And how exactly could you have done that?” “...I dunno, could’ve— Could’ve been the guy, for him.” “Carmen you were the guy, for him.”

Carmen shakes his head. “You were the guy, for Mikey.”

“I— Okay—” You click your tongue, this is hard to explain. You shift on the sink counter, trying to get more comfortable. You won’t. It’s a fucking sink. “I was the guy, but the guy to another guy isn’t much— you—” You snap your fingers, pointing at him. “You’re not the guy, Carmen. Never will be.”

“Ouch.”

“No— You’re something much more important than the guy. You’re— You’re the, the cat.”

He can’t help but smile, confused. He’s so used to bear comparisons. “I’m the cat?”

“You’re—” You keep pointing at him, thinking the metaphor in your head through. “...The guy is— Is like the host of the house party. He keeps the jokes going, the room light, the drinks and food stocked— He talks people through panic attacks while they sit in the bathtub, he loses at beer pong on purpose to make the other team feel better, the guy makes everyone feel like they’re the center of the universe.”

“And the cat?”

“The cat is upstairs, locked in his room, because the cat will get all jittery if he’s around all that yelling and all those people. The cat doesn’t even like those people. And the guy doesn’t want his cat to go through that. But then, when the guy finally gets all jittery and can’t handle all those people himself—” You sigh, honestly stressed by your own metaphor, thinking of all the moments in your life you needed the cat and didn’t call.

“He’ll go upstairs, to his room, and the cat will be there, and he can talk to the cat— Because the cat likes him. And nothing will be solved, but it’ll still feel good and the cat will still think his guy’s perfect and wonderful even when the guy is just— just him— And the cat asks literally nothing of the guy— Unlike everyone else downstairs— and that’s exactly why the guy wants to give the cat everything over anyone else.”

God, you’ve been talking about cats and guys too much. “Not everyone needs a cat, but the guys that do, really do. And you’re… You’re the cat— Mikey’s and mine.”

Carmen can’t say I love you, because that would be an insane response. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. But it’s the only thing he can think of. The only thing he can say besides that, is, “You’re very good to me.”

You’re not exclusively for Carmen, he knows that. You’re not made for him— You’re made for many things. But maybe you’re curated. The Bear wouldn’t exist without your advocacy. And it’s hard to believe, but there might’ve been even more broken shit at The Beef, if you hadn’t been there before Carmen got there. Mikey got to be your friend, before Carmen did. And you got to be Mikey’s friend, when Carmen didn’t. But you both kept him in mind, you told Mikey to text, you drew schematics for his restaurant, you said you’d talk to him. You thought he was charming. You still do. You’re Mikey’s pick, for Carmen. And it’s not like Mikey’s opinion matters that much, but it’s nice to have approval. Though he didn’t fucking ask for it.

“Such a cat response.” “Is that like being a Leo or some shit?” 

You both laugh. Ah, thank fuck, it’s you two, again. There’s a comfortable silence while you think for a second, before asking, “Can I add another thing to your non-negotiables?”

“Always.”

“I don’t want you to be different for me.” You think back to being in his kitchen, the way he tried to hold back, when you were around. “I get you, work you, home you— If you want me to be your fuckin’ mixologist, you’re gonna have to get comfortable working with me.”

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

He laughs through a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Damn,” You snort, “Are you only with me for my skills?”

“No, I’m with you because you’re— You.” The kitchen needs you, The Bear needs you, Carmen needs you. He’s the cat, he doesn’t need anything more than you. He can work on his codependency issues in therapy, okay? “I— I like having you around.”

You readjust your posture again, it’s hard to get comfortable on a sink. “Well, you better get paid soon, then.”

“‘Bout that.” Boy came prepared. He rifles through the pockets of his black jeans, and pulls out a folded slip of paper. He does a yoga class worthy stretch to hand it to you, from across the sink. A paystub, from The Bear, to Carmen. Officially on fucking payroll.

Yeah, turns out, just a bad week, last week. Being in the red doesn’t last forever. Neither does being in the green. There are ebbs and flows. Next week will probably be shit, and yet the wheel still turns. Carmen also might’ve very well plugged in half of the numbers wrong, according to Sugar, when she eventually got to looking at it. But that’s neither here nor there. So he’s reactive. What’s new? Should’ve believed the you in his head, when she said there will be good and bad weeks. He’s still working on being the only voice in his head. But you’re a good replacement for the other guy, for now.

You stare at it, like an ancient scroll. It’s real. He’s really getting paid— Pretty decent too, he could finally buy some fucking furniture, with this. “Okay.” You look up from the slip to him. He looks like he’s on fucking Shark Tank, anxiously awaiting your approval. “And you’ll act like you?”

“I will act like me.” Even when he doesn’t want you to see it, Carmen will act like Carmen. 

And that’s all you could ask for, really. You’re about to approve the deal, but then you think again, frowning. “The Exec.”

“Ah.” Carmen shuts his eyes, embarrassed by his own brain. “I know.”

“So you thought about it?”

“I didn’t think about— It—” Carmen doubted his own conviction, because he doubts all of himself. But it really was not ever on the table, to give your number…That said— “I thought about loopholes.”

“Catfishing him?” You guess, and he affirms. “Catfishing him.” Hey, great minds think alike. Doesn’t make Carmen feel any less scummy, for considering abusing your likeness for sake of approval. 

“Did you go through with it?” 

It’s Carmen’s turn, to blink, slow to realize that you actually don’t know. “Richie didn’t tell you?” You still live in a world where Carmen isn’t completely batshit. 

You tilt your head, “Did Richie catfish him?”

“No, uhm—” He seems suddenly sheepish now. Can’t look you in the eyes, again. He nods and points to your pockets. “You got your phone?”

“Uh, yeah—” You pull it out, haven’t gotten any sudden creepshow texts, to your knowledge. “Should I be scared?”

Carmen shakes his head. “Nothin’ worse than what you’ve already seen.” He snaps his fingers at your phone, “Look up uh— I think it’s— Chicago Bear on Yankee Chef turf, or some shit.”

You have to take a moment, before typing, to just look at him with genuine pause. “...What?”

“Just do it.” “Did you kill someone?” “I do not have blood on my hands, the Tribune is just dramatic—” “The fucking Tribune?! Shut the fuck up, Carmy.”

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

Okay. Upon searching. Absolutely yes way he’s in the Chicago Tribune. Carmen’s trending on Twitter— Or rather, Chicago, The Bear, Bear, Carmy, Michelin Beef, Fuck the Yanks, and a million other keywords are trending— Local trending, but still trending. Chicago Tribune’s made an article archiving a handful of reaction tweets, summarizing whatever the fuck happened. Alright, this is taking too long, maybe you should just ask the man in front of you— “Oh my fucking God, there’s a video.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t watch—” Carmen is interrupted by his own voice coming through your phone. “—And what kind of fucking Chef doesn’t like black pepper? I’m white and overdone, but you’re an entire other goddamn beast—” “...That.”

It’s a screen recording of some patron’s Facebook Live at some New York restaurant David owns or whatever. Empire? That’s what the blurry signs in the video’s background seem to say. What’s his title at this point, anymore? Doesn’t matter.

It’s nice to see his blurry little face around ten to twenty feet from the camera get yelled at by a Carmen that is also many feet away, but his voice seems to be projecting throughout the whole restaurant; enough to be heard clearly through recording, anyways. “And it’d be enough to just be an asshole— But you’re a creep too— Never fuckin’ pray on my— my— bar staff, or I swear on my life—”

“Can’t make direct threats in New York, Cousin! Penal code!” You laugh when you hear Richie’s voice ringing out in the background. Thank God for whoever’s filming, because they pivot their phone to catch Richie, pretty much next to their table, calling out to Carmen. “It’s a fine!”

He looks tired but wired; they must’ve taken a pitstop here, before heading to the hotel. What a fun road trip finale. Richie is such a motherfucker for not telling you all of this first thing while you put on his cufflinks— This is not dirty details, this is front page shit! Literally! God, he buries the lead like it’s his fucking day job.

“Who gives a fuck about a fine? Everyone—” And back to Carmen. “This is David Fields, he’s the head of the head of the head, in their heads— He’s a fantastic chef, I don’t think he eats or sleeps or knows what another person’s hands feel like— He is fuckin’ brilliant at making the same three fuckin’ plates every fuckin’ day— With the most minute differences— And—And—And— He doesn’t even make them! He takes dishes from prozac riddled fucks like me, makes them worse and then puts his name on it! Unoriginal, a narcissist, and fucking bad at it!”

You don’t look up from your phone, eyes glued to the screen. “Holy fuck, Carmen.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” “Is this good marketing?” “Wait for it, I guess.” “...Are you actually on prozac?” “No. I kind of blacked out. Made a point though, right?” “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Sorry, miss. Could I—” …Fak? Guess he did third wheel on the road trip to New York. He grabs the streamer’s phone. There’s a ‘what the—fuckin— excuse me?’ from behind the camera as Fak pivots the recording to himself. 

“Hey World, I’m Neil, that’s my best friend Carmy the Bear, over there.”

“Jesus Christ.” You look up from your phone to Carm, who was at first embarrassed and is now just trying to hold a straight face, hand over his mouth. “I’m aware.” He repeats. 

You squint, thinking.“...Best friend?” “...I guess he is?” “That’s— Okay— I don’t— Alright, we’ll come back to that.” And return to your phone.

Fak continues, taking advantage of the sudden screen time. “He’s a really good Chef, knows his shit, if you ever want to see how he does it, please come eat— Dine— Dine with us at The Bear, we’re in Chicago— on North Orleans and Huron— You can— Can book with us at The Bear dot—”

“Don’t have the site yet.” Richie interrupts the impromptu ad, hovering over Fak’s shoulder, barely whispering. “Still The Beef.”

Neil nods and continues. “The Beef dot squarespace—”

“It’s Wix.” “It’s fucking Wix?” “Your problem isn’t with the lack of a domain?”

“It’s Google Sites, actually.” You correct for no one, really, looking up from your phone to Carmen, again. “I made him change it so it wouldn’t have that ugly freemium bar.” 

Carmen snorts, shaking his head. Of course you did. “D’you design it?”

You let out a loud, “Ha!” before turning back down to the screen. “I think web design might be the one trade I can’t do.” But you’re willing to learn, if he needs.

Ah, the videographer managed to foist her phone back, returning to catch the very end of the Carmen Show. And it’s a wonderful finale, from Carm.

“—Fuck your two elements, fuck your face— Fuck everything about you— I cannot believe we gave you service— Let alone our best— For a guy in hospitality, you have no fucking right treating my host and somme like that. Fuck you—”

“Fuck you—” Finally a response from David, though it’s quickly interrupted, as Carmen finally starts to back away, not wanting a genuine fight if he doesn’t have to do it, but he certainly wants the last word. “No, fuck you—”

“Fuck you.” “—Chef— Stay in your fucking city— Stay in your fucking city— New Yorks great! Stay in it! We don't play in Chicago— Fuck you!”

Carmen comes back to his road trip squad, he notices the woman recording, and walks up to the camera. For a second, you genuinely think he’s going to square up with her— You’re pretty sure he at least thought about it. “Is she recording?”

“Streaming.” Answers Fak. “It’s the new thing.”

 Carmy opts to use his words, possibly because he could maybe get arrested. “Sorry, sorry— I just want to make it clear—”

He gestures to the fucker in the background, bouncers seems to be approaching. Carmen keeps going, face red but calming down, chasing his own breath. “This man worked— and works with wonderful Chefs who I learned a lot under— And— And— I have all the respect for them, and always will— But-But— when it comes to David Fields specifically—”

Your cherry and lamb dish was perfect. David’s palate is just not worth appealing to. Carmen won’t make that mistake again.

“—What he serves is consistently vapid, dusty, and dead on arrival— like his heart— And—And— When you pay him, dine with him, work with him, you are lining the pockets of some fuckin’ creep that pulls rank on honest cooks and servers. So. Decide if you want that. And uhm— Uh— Tip your servers. Don’t ask for their numbers— Like he does. Be normal. Thank you.”

“Carmen Berzatto, folks! Come— Come to The Bear!” Yells out Neil, as security finally seems to be coming for the Chicagoans.

Richie grabs Fak by the back of his coat, knowing when to bounce, shouting, “No legal names! Godssake— This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one—!”

The screen recording ends, not long after that. You’re going to need maybe a… fifty minute nap, to process that. Maybe, somehow, this is good publicity— Maybe in some way, this is putting The Bear on the center stage. But one thing is fact, Carmen completely abandoned the idea of keeping appearances and getting a star through kissing ass. He completely abandoned the idea of being appealing to the man in his head. 

And he did that for you— And Richie— Which, honestly, makes it mean even more. Carmen’s a good boss. Not always. Definitely not always. But when it fucking counts, he is. Carmen's a good man. A good friend. A good not-quite boyfriend. Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked.

You put your phone away, quietly nodding and thinking, not looking at Carmen. You shrug, attempting to be nonchalant. “Contract and I’ll be your mixologist.”

“Yeah?” There’s such a brightness, to the way Carmen asks. Like a spritz. “Okay. I’ll— I’ll send you a Docusign.” Aperol spritz. There’s more to it, than that though. 

You’re so zoned out, looking at the sinks instead of Carmen, he starts to get worried. He just got eye contact back, come on. Was the yelling too much in the video? He was loud and mean. He always is. He told you not to watch. 

“Tony?” What kind of bitters suit him? A slice of grapefruit might be nice. Bright but acquired.

“Are you good?”

“Wha—” You shake your head out of it, turning your gaze to Carmen. He jumped off the counter to stand by you. His hand hovers by your head— He considers grazing your hair, and chickens out. But he can’t put it down.  “Sorry, was— I was uh— Just thinking of what we could put on a cocktail menu, that’s all.” Yeah, that’s all.

“Don’t work on it, without me.” It’s with a, dare you say, panicked quickness, that he requests this. “Cocktail menu, coffee menu, we should— Should do R and D, together.”

“Yeah, f’sure.” Fucking Chefs, so particular about their menus. “I think it’d be good to uhm— Build it around the main menu, anyways. Sorta match stuff up.” Thankfully, you like particular.

He really needs to not be standing this close, though. Your brain keeps zoning in and out— It’s really not the time to be feeling any sort of type of way about Carmen cursing out that fucking chef and going to therapy for himself and you and he smells nice and he’s reading books and he worked bar all night with you and he looks so nice in bartender black in lieu of his Chef whites and he is trying so hard and— And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. 

And you can’t forgive him either— Well, not aloud, because Carmen wants to prove that he’s done the work— Wants to prove that he’s going to keep doing the work. He’s rendered you with nearly zero options here, to show your affection. 

“Yeah, that’s— That’d be good. I was thinkin’ we’d put your station by Marcus.” Why is he still talking about work? He’s so stupid. He’s wonderful. This is the worst. This is hell. “Coffee machine’s already there, and you’ll tend to share a lot of elements, anyway— I think.”

You shift your butt on the counter, turning to face him head on, he’s just slightly between your knees as your legs dangle off the counter. “Carmen.”

“Yeah?” “I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.”

Light, nervous, sweet, lifting, soft— A delicate kick to it. Pink peppercorn bitters. That’s it.

Aperol— Vibrantly orange liqueur, derived from bitter rhubarb. It’s an acquired taste. Some say it’s citrusy and herbal, others say it tastes like cough syrup. Either way, it’s awakening. Then prosecco. A splash of soda— Lemon-lime would be best. Aperol spritz. It’s an Italian cocktail. It sparkles. Everything in it fizzes, almost competing with each other. It’s meant to be enjoyed before dinner. It’s refreshing. Pink peppercorns and grapefruit would only add to that brightness, that light. It’s not for everyone, but it is everything to some. That’s Carmen. That’s your Carmen. Oh, maybe a syrup on the rim?

You try to be delicate, the way you put the palm of your hand on the back of his head and pull him in, but it’s just not possible. It’s the first time in a fucking month you’ve initiated— It's been one-hundred and sixty-eight hours since you've seen his face, let alone touched it— It’s just not possible to be kind.

Thankfully, based on the way he’s leaning you back on the counter, hands on your waist, it doesn’t seem like Carmen wants kind. There's a sigh of relief, to just kiss you. He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. Possibly way more than fine. The faint whining and pulling your hips to his seem to indicate it’s a lot fucking more than fine.

It would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon to say I love you, but you can mouth the words against him and he can’t tell what you’re wording but at least you know. It’s funny that he can do the same to you, and despite knowing the trick, you can’t tell either. 

Carmen pulls back, just a centimeter, or two. He wants to say something. He’s opening his mouth to say something. He's all dopey and half-lidded. Man, he’s pretty. He knows that right? Yeah, he knows that. “You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth. 

Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” He moves his hands to hold your face. It’s nice. It’s nice to get peppered with kisses— Yeah, pink pepper fits perfectly with him. 

Carm’s voice is heavier now. Maybe from the lack of oxygen. He’s fighting to revive his brain. He’s so serious, when he firmly kisses you, forehead against yours, lips still grazing, saying, “I’m not a fucking virgin.”

You laugh way too fucking hard for his ego. Your hands untangle from his hair, but your arms continue to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s still amped, too bad you’re you, and you have to ruin the mood to poke at him.

“That a recent development?” “Shut the fuck up—” “I’m just wondering, if he was accurate at the time—” “Why are you doing this to me?” “Did you have a tantric affair in Denmark, the people wanna know!” “I— There was no time, alright? It got away from me—” “Remember when you had your first kind of girlfriend like a month and a week ago?” “It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.”

He pauses the banter to just stare at you, take in your features, take in that you’re here and real and half underneath him. “Not forgiven.” You should’ve shown up sooner. You should’ve injected yourself so completely in Carmen’s life eons ago, and made yourself intrinsically impossible to remove. Absolutely not forgiven, for being late.

“Yeah?” Your eyes upturn, deeply amused. Carmen really is the baby brother. Entitled, bratty, cute. You’re planning to say something coy, something playful like ‘Ohoho, how do I earn your forgiveness?’ But you remember something Carmen said, when he was summarizing his Friday night for you— And for Carmen, what you opt to say is so much worse than hot banter, for his brain. 

“I don’t think your mouth tastes bad.” It’s your turn to take in his face and all its features. “I think it’s nice. It’s like the only way I can try cigarettes without getting a headache.”

“I wanna fly you to Paris.” It’s so quick, from Carmen. Choked quick— Like he fought to hold it down but you’ve just opened the Pandora’s box that is his mouth. He keeps going. Your surprised face firmly smushed in his hands.  

“I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since I asked you to run bar— I’ve— I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since you washed my hair— I—I—” Too much affection to contain in words, he has to kiss you, and then he has to keep going, and then kiss you between the ‘ands’, and then keep going. Like a shot and a chaser and a shot and a chaser and a—

“I want you to be permanent and carved in my tables and I want you to wear my jackets and I want you in my kitchen and in my menu and in every dumb fucking conversation I have at Christmas tellin’ family what the fuck I’m doing— I want you in every sentence.”

It’s not ‘I love you’. Because saying I love you would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon. But it might very well be more than that. Trying to avoid saying it might be forcing you both to say something that means more than that.

It’s hard to generate a response as poignant as that. Especially because your cognitive abilities seem to have gone completely offline. Your brain is telling you to kill the moment so you don’t have to face the feeling, telling you to say something stupid like, ‘Why Paris?’, because if you don't, you might say it. But you can’t. You’re totally speechless. 

Eventually, you manage to choke out, “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ah, a smile from Carmen with teeth. What a rare gift you’ve been bestowed. He tries to celebrate this occasion with another kiss that will inevitably lead to a million more but when he goes for his classic move of sticking his head in the crook of your neck to bite you like a cannibal— You get the chance to look somewhere other than Carmen’s face, and realize you are both still very much so in a fucking bathroom at a fucking wedding in New York. 

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.”

Carmen groans, there’s no way you’re doing this to him again, come on, neither of you have to go this time, you have all the time in the world, in this bathroom. Time isn’t real here. That’s how bathrooms work. “He’s not.”

“Carmy’s right, I’m not.” Says definitely totally not Fak, behind the door. “You guys kissin’ yet?”

“Christ.” You put a hand on Carm’s chest, pushing him back from you as you push yourself up with your other hand. “Mood dead.”

“No—” He grabs your wrist, holding your hand in place against him. “Mood not dead— Mood present and alive—”

There’s some fumbling behind the door. “Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. That’s great. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way— Cousin, be a gentleman—”

Carmen leans over and all but screams into your shoulder. “I am being a fuckin’ gentleman, Richard!”

You kiss your teeth, shaking your head, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s dead.” Them’s the breaks. 

A slow, heavy, arduous exhale, from Carmen, coming up to lean his forehead to yours for a second. Enjoying the liminal space before it’s permanently ripped out of your hands. “I hate my family.”

You smile, pressing your forehead firmer against his, nuzzling noses. “You love your family.”

“I love my family.” He sighs. He gives you one last kiss, soft, sweet, perfect. “Thank you for taking care of them.” 

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

God, you’re so quick and mind-bending, he has to go for another kiss, come the fuck on— “Mood’s dead.” You laugh, so cruel, jumping off the counter, maneuvering past Carmen, but you’re sweet— Cruel but sweet— Carefully switching his hold on your wrist to holding your hand, dragging him with you. 

You might be leaving the bathroom together, but Carmen’s pretty sure a part of him is going to stay there, like a ghost of a feeling, for the rest of time.

“Okay— Is everyone waiting to piss?” Is your first question, for the crowd awaiting you and Carmy outside the bathroom. Not strangers, though—Well, mostly not strangers. Richie, Syd, Fak, some guy that looks like Fak. There’s no way they all need to piss, there were three other bathrooms available, it's not like you were hogging. “Is fuckin’ anyone runnin’ bar right now?”

“Marcus is.” Syd answers, hurriedly, as she runs up on you, immediately enveloping you— Practically an attack. It’s not in her nature to hug, but you’ve forced her hand here. Carmen hasn’t even exited the doorway behind you yet before you’re stumbling back into him from the force of her. 

“Squ—”

The words come out of her like a flood, no spacing between the words. “I’m-sorry-I—  We-finished-serving-and-listened-in-on-everything-super-invasive-couldn’t-help-it— You should’ve called me.”

This— These motherfuckers. Oh well, saves you the trip to Denny’s. And frankly, you would hate to re-explain all that. You return the hug with your free hand, the other one still in Carmen’s. You put your chin on her shoulder. “I know.”

There were so many times where you could’ve just gone upstairs. So many times you could’ve just called your old cat. Should’ve just called Syd. She would have been there. Maybe that’s exactly why you didn’t call. 

“I should’ve called you.” Maybe that’s exactly why Syd never called her guy, when she needed you, too. 

“Well,” You pull her back by her shoulders, “We will next time.”

You can’t let the moment stay sincere for long though, shit-eating grin growing on your face, “You’d give up a star for me?” Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek as she desperately tries to get away from you now— Oh how the tables turn.

“Get fucked—” “You love me— I’m all you got, Syd? Woww—” “After my dad I said! After my dad!” “A single widdle tear from me isn’t worth a star?” “It was not widdle— Little— Fuck—”

“This is cute princesses but everyone get the fuck out of the way before I clog an artery.” Richie unnecessarily shoves his way between the Faks to get to you. 

You release Syd to face the man, pensive, waiting for a slap, honestly. Richie just looks at you, now that he’s in front of you he’s dumbfounded, awkward. He knows he wants to say something or wants you to say something but neither of you know what that is. What it should be.

Before he can figure it out, you do. “I should’ve told you.” Besides your therapist, Carmen is the only person you told about the phone call— Well, intentionally, that is. 

That doesn’t really seem to be the thing he cares about. He’s not going to slap you, and you don’t need to grovel. “Am I dead, to you?”

Your brows furrow, for a second. “Wha—”

Richie grabs your free hand, pressing it to his neck. “Check my pulse, am I dead, t’you?”

“First of all, wrong placement.” You have to wiggle your hand out of his grip to take his pulse correctly. “It’s under the chin, align it with your eye—”

“Do I have one?” “Yes, Richie, you have a pulse.” “So I’m not dead?” “You’re not dead—” “Then call me.”

When your breath hitches, he continues. “I’m not a ghost. I’m here. When shit happens, you call me.”

“I know.” Is the only thing you can say without your voice cracking. “I will call next time.”

“You will fucking call, next time.” Richie grabs your face, smushed in his hands. “And you’ll answer my calls, next time.” He forces you to nod— Not that you wouldn’t, but wants to make sure. “Am I heard?”

“You're heard.”

Richie can see over your head, so he barks at Carmen, who’s very innocently behind you, still holding your hand. “Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—”

“I don’t have weird little hands—” 

Syd pipes in, squinting. “Why is that the thing you refute—”

“Why does God let these moments happen to me?” You grumble, words muffled with your face still compacted by Richie’s hands. 

“I think it’s beautiful, actually.” Says some guy that looks like Fak. You just stare at him with your partially forced closed eyes. “Just the vibes, so— like— tender.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” You deadpan, pointing at Other Fak. “Has this guy just learned shit I haven’t even told my own father?”

“We definitely just got here.” Lies Fak, next to Other Fak. He continues, “We didn’t hear anything about the really sad way you both actually did attend the funeral but didn’t—”

Other Fak astutely interrupts to add, sniffing. “But if we did it’d be like, like really meaningful that you both like, did that.” Is he tearing up? Richie needs to check your pulse, are you dying?

“Everyone please back the fuck up?” Carmen sighs, behind you, then beside you, letting go of your hand to put it on your shoulder. “Like maybe give two solitary fuckin’ seconds?”

There’s a stuttering of apologies as everyone realizes yeah, maybe a bit much to immediately jump you. Richie drops your face, everyone takes a step back.

You keep staring at Other Fak. Squinting, you point to him. “Ted?” Guy who they called instead of you?

He nods, “Hi—”

“No.” You wave your hand in front of his face, cutting him off. You turn to Carmen, just shaking your head plainly. “No.”

“Heard.”

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?”

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

“Fak can— Neil can fix shit, I took his spot, it’s fair— Outsourcing someone though—?”

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It was— Should I have called you back in?”

“No, you should have had a broken light until we talked it out or let it be broken for the rest of your life.” There is not much you could ever find yourself getting genuinely jealous about— This, however, is a knife to the heart. Another handyman is a child out of wedlock, practically.

“Heard.”

“I spent way too long stalking you.” Interrupts Syd, she’s looking at her phone, a jumble of aggravated misspelled texts coming from the work group chat. “Fuck, I’ve gotta help Tina with clean up— We’ll—” She sticks a hand out, you reach out and hold it, for a moment. “You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?”

You tilt your head, confused, oh— “I’m still gonna sleep in our room, Syd. You weird pervert.”

Syd lets go of your hand, shaking her own hands around her head, talking just as fast as she speed walks away to the kitchen. “I am not a weird pervert, I’m sexually normal, don’t be weird, goodbye! Love you, fuck you, see you later!”

Richie claps his hands, “We’re closing out, so I’ve gotta go pick up vases or some shit— Faks, c’mon—”

“Y’know we’re just regular guests, right?” Says Ted. They let Fak come on the road trip despite not doing a job? Medals of Valor need to be doled out.

“Pbbt, come the fuck on, here boy.” Richie starts to walk off, and the whistling is condescending, but they listen anyway. Rich looks over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at Carmen. “Probationary forgiveness.”

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

Carmen’s relaxed posture immediately pulls into a taught physique, he’s considering chasing Richie to get more details. “Isn’t Sug here, too?”

“Yessir!”

“Have they—” “They got grouped at the same table. Unc and Stevie have been keepin’ the peace.” “How’s that going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine!” And with that Richie fades into the crowd of straggling guests and clean up crews. 

You don’t know much about Donna, which was a very intentional choice on Mikey’s part. And that kinda tells you all you need to know. You turn to Carmen, pensive. “You wanna go find out?”

He itches at his collar, thinking. “I think if I say I don’t, I’m a bad son.”

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

“Oh, fuck, okay.” He stumbles for a second, you immediately cover your mouth. 

“Sorry! I just—” Inside thought got outside. “I just meant— That was a lot. It’s just like, I dunno, you can’t be bad at something you never opted in for, y’know?”

“No, yeah, that— That’s kind of… a good thought.” He nods, looking at the ground, swallowing the words. “I— I should be a good brother—and—and Uncle, at least. Say hi to Nat.”

You don’t start walking until he starts walking, intent to follow his lead. You’ll stroll casually, until they crop up, making no deliberate effort to find them. You’re both silently hoping you don't. Carmen brings his head back up to you. “You ever meet Mom—? Donna?”

You shake your head, “No, that was kinda one of our few red lines. For Mikey and me. He’d like—” You gesture with your hands as you explain. “He’d talk about her, and I saw like… photos of them from babyhood, but I never met her or heard details— Never like, came over to the house. It was just kinda like a silent agreement. Hard for him and hard for me with the whole— Uh—”

“Drinking thing.”

You nod. “It’s uh— I’m not easily triggered anymore, though, so I think I’m fine.”

Carmen sniffs, scratching his nose. “Well, if you end up not being fine, we can not— Like not talk to her.”

He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s the cat. You nod. “You don’t have to talk to her either, y’know. Could just text Nat—” “She’s right there.”

You whip your head up in tandem with him saying, “Don’t look fas— Fuck.”

You put the back of your hand on Carm’s chest, you both stop walking. “That’s Dee-Dee?”

“Yeah, with the—the leopard print belt and the floral dress.” Carmen’s been growing meeker with each step. You’d think his biggest fear is clashing patterns. This is not the same bear in the Chicago Tribune. “Why, you— You do know her?”

“She looks fuckin’ familiar…” You kiss your teeth, trying to roll back in your memory— Come on, you don’t forget shit, where is she from? You’ve seen photos but those were blurry and she was so much younger. You remember this version of Donna, you remember her from somewhere.

“Fuckin’ — Something with Pete— I saw her with Pete— Nat’s husband—” You point to him, across from Donna, at the table. “Him, yeah.”

“Just them?” Carmen gently pulls your arm down, you’ve gotta remember your manners.

“Yeah, I was— Oh, I was—” You squint. “Did Donna come to your opening?”

“No, she was invited, but she didn’t show.”

“Okay— So, she did, actually.” “Huh—?”

“She was— She was outside, when you were in the walk-in.” You nod to yourself, still thinking through the memory. “Yeah, she was outside— I thought Pete was like her son— It looked like they were fighting or crying so I just kinda— Kinda let it be. You were locked in a fucking freezer so I chose my battles.”

“Oh.” Carmen nods, trying to make it seem normal in his head. It’s not. And he can’t seem to force it. “He definitely didn’t tell Nat.” Because Nat would’ve told him.

You hum, rocking on your heels. “Yeah there's no chance we're going to go say hi now, is there?”

“Yeah, that might be best.”

You fold your lips in a line, still staring at Donna, she looks normal, which makes it feel even less normal. Way too much to unpack, if you go over there. Instead, you’ll stand here in the middle of the banquet hall, and unpack the carry-on luggage, so to speak. “Christmas is in a week.”

It’s a freight train of realization, Carmen drags his hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

You frown, turning your head to him, not wanting to say what you’re going to say. “Do you think she’ll plan anything?” First Christmas without Mikey. Will she have the willpower to plan something, like she usually does?

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

Carmen holds his hand over his mouth, words somewhat muffled. “I’ll ask Nat, see what she’s doing. Baby’s first Christmas, or whatever. That’s a thing, right?”

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—”

Despite staring at their table, the two of you did not notice Natalie approaching you, baby Michaela swaddled in her arms. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen normal human beings that aren’t screaming or shitting constantly in so long— Please— Say something normal and fun.”

You pucker your lips, trying to come up with something. “Ah— Fuck, I can’t think of anything— Oh fuck, sorry I said fuck— God— I’m just gonna stop talking.”

Nat lifts her hand up for a moment to wave you off before re-supporting her baby. “No! No, don’t! Say fuck so much. Say it all the time. She can’t understand, she doesn’t care. I wish I was her.”

“Will do.” You just nod, holding a hand up to Michaela, waving. She grabs one of your fingers, holding on tight. You can’t help but coo. “Hey, baby! Have you been fuckin’ with your mom’s sleep schedule? Awe, yes you have! Yes you have!”

Nat laughs and hums, “Richie told me you used to babysit Eva.” 

“He’s exaggerating.” You leave your hand with Michaela, but look up to Nat. “There were just some weekends he was working and daycare wasn’t running so I’d take her around the city for a couple hours— More like playdates than actual babysitting.”

“That just sounds like you’re a fun babysitter.” Carmen rebukes, Nat nods. 

“I’m good when you only need a second.” You sigh, half taking the compliment. You glance over Nat’s fatigued face. “You need a second?”

“Yes, fuck, could you?” In the same breath, she’s handing you baby Michaela. “She has in fact been fucking with mommy’s sleep schedule— And no one tells you— ‘mommy strength’ or whatever, needs to be developed— My lats— I think they’re lats? Are insane now. Just from holding her!”

You bounce the baby in your arms, sidling her on your hip. She’s a grabber, that’s for sure. Grabbing your hair, your top, Mikey’s chip— No longer tucked under your clothes. You let her. Well— Not the hair— She could cut off her circulation— Relax, EMS. You’re off duty. “How’s it going with—”

Nat knows what you’re asking before you finish the question. “Better than normal, which makes it feel worse. Does that make sense?”

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

Carmen’s staring at Pete. He’s not typically a snitch but this is his sister, “Did Pete tell you—?”

“That mom was there on our fucking opening and he told her we were having a baby? Yes, about five minutes before she sat down.” Nat says it with a perfectly practiced smile and a simmering anger.

Your hands slip just slightly, you readjust your grip on Mickey. You and Carmen speak together, “He what?” 

Nat doesn't mean to ignore your both but she does, “How'd you find out?”

“I just told him.” You pipe up, guilt covers your face. “I saw them when I came that night. Sorry, I didn't realize that was your mom— Or husband, for that matter.”

Sug shakes her head, waving off the apology. “Not your fault, his.”

“Yeah.” Carmen nods, “Back to that, by the way?”

“Yeah, he realized it was kind of a hard lie to uphold— Because mom sucks at acting surprised.” She sighs, “She’s taking it well publicly but I’m expecting a full blown meltdown in the bathroom of which I can’t escape, so. Beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah, those are kind of unavoidable.” You just had one yourself. “Fingers crossed you make it out alive?”

“Oh, I’m making it the fuck out, it’s her you should pray for.”

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.”

“I didn’t ask to be her daughter! If she hands it to me I’m handing it fucking back—” Nat’s brain is always running like a faucet, she cuts off her own thoughts with a new one. “Christmas is in a week.”

“We know.”

“Fuck me.” She sighs so hard it blows strands of hair out of her face. “What the fuck are we gonna do, Carmy?”

“Was gonna ask you.” Carm’s distracting himself with Michaela, she reaches for his hand, she doesn’t grab a finger, she traces his tattoos. God, babies are cute sometimes. “Can we figure it out later?”

“Yeah, like everything else we do, I guess.” Sug groans. But she just as equally doesn’t want to think about it as him. And honestly, she’s just happy to see him acting like a fucking uncle for once.  “Tony, will I see you at work on Monday? You’re onboarding, right?”

You don’t notice the way Carmen’s face stones up, like a secret has been revealed. He’s been preparing for you to say yes. He’s got that Docusign in his inbox, ready to send. Had Nat budget you in. But you don’t seem to be upset about it— Or maybe you just didn’t catch that Carmen selfishly was hoping you’d come right back to him. Maybe it’s just that you don’t think it’s selfish.

“Oh— Uh, yeah, I guess you will.” Michaela starts to smack you for not giving her attention for more than seven seconds. You turn your head to her, bouncing her again, “Pbbt—Pbbbt— Mat leave over?”

“Gonna need to be.” Nat laughs when she says it, like you’re both on some sort of inside joke. Yeah, The Bear’s kind of a nightmare, of course Nat’s always needed. You laugh back, though there wasn’t really a joke anywhere in there.

“Make sure you get your rest.” Sug scoops Michaela out of your arms, rejuvenated from her second of peace. “Your boss is kind of an ass.”

Unfair drive-by, Carmen waves a hand like a white flag, “Alright—”

“I know, I like him anyways.” “Gross.” “I know, it sucks.”

“Okay, okay,” It’s way too obvious how happy Nat is that her brother has someone. “Both of you get the fuck out of here before she sees you, I told her you’d be too busy in the kitchen to say hi.”

She knows her brother, and Carmen’s grateful for it, but, “Are you sure? I can—” 

“I love you, Bear.” Nat gives him a kiss on the cheek, and you a quick hug. “But fucking run, seriously.”

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

You quickly dash off together, blending into crowds to go unnoticed. Mumbling plans out as you sprint. “I’ve gotta help Marcus close out the bar.”

“I’ve gotta pack up our equipment.” “You’re on the fifth floor too, right?” “Yeah, you’re rooming with Syd?” “Yeah, you and Richie?”

“I got my own room.” “Okay, rich boy.” “I— It’s a fuckin’ Holiday Inn, it’s not that bad—” “Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?”

“Oh?” You practically skirt on your heels when you suddenly stop walking, “He’s bold now—”

“I— That’s not— Like we—” He can’t dig himself out of this one, and his darting eyeline is giving him away. “You told Syd you’d still sleep in your room— I just meant like— Like we could— hang out.”

“We could hang out?” “Stop—” “I’d love to hang out, dude.” “We can watch a movie or somethin’—”

You gasp, thought occurring to you. “Yeah, let’s watch a movie. I wanna watch a movie.”

“I don’t like the look that just happened in your eyes.” 

“Yes, you do.” Your turn to smush Carmen’s face in your hands, kissing him with a comical, all too wet, and in no way seductive muah—

Which somehow just makes it all the more entrancing, for him.  “Yes, I do.”

You smile, letting him go, splitting off from Carmy in favour of your bar. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, go be a good boss.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“How are they not seeing him fuck up the soup— That— A whole pot—” “You’re literally saying exactly what Remy is saying right now—” “I— Good. I’m still mad about the five star thing.”

Carmen likes Ratatouille. Likes it enough to nitpick. He relates to the weird rat with a complex family dynamic and having a brother that means well but fucks with him so much. He relates to the no credit, the starving, the death and desire of feeding the ego, Carmen relates to feeling like a freak in his own kitchen. 

It is weird to feel seen by a rat. 

But it’s nice to have you in his room, in his bed, watching some dinky little red-head try to survive in a French kitchen. It’s nice to occasionally watch you instead, out of the corner of his eye. He thought of roughly… fourteen more recipes since leaving the bathroom with you? Who would’ve thought that watching someone use a makeup cleansing balm would be inspiring?

What? It melted beautifully. Or maybe you’re just beautiful? Whatever. You emulsified it in your hands. Emulsion? Coconut emulsion would be interesting; very similar creme texture. On top of a souffle? Delicate. But it still needs zip. The glitter from your eyeshadow makes him think of zesting. Lemon zest. Needs more scent, though. Oh, maybe Kaffir limes. That’s a weird dish. That’s never gonna work. He has to get better at subtracting around you. 

He’s doing pretty good at not saying I love you, though, so, that’s something. 

“The houndstooth pants are cute.” You hum, as Linguini finally kisses Collette— Though by a rat’s volition. A win is a win. You lean into Carmen’s side, watching the movie pirated on his laptop, because hotel tv pay-per-view was so overpriced for no reason. “Oh, fuck, what’s my uniform gonna be?”

“Chef whites, no?” His arm is around your shoulder, it’s nice. “I can get you a jacket—”

“Well, your servers wear black— And I’m gonna be like, like both right?” You turn your head to him. Bad idea. He’s still very pretty, if not prettier in pajamas. “Like, making drinks in the back and then acting as somme out front. So all black?”

“Hm.” Carmen tries not to frown. Tries not to see you wearing black as you being on the other team. “I guess.”

“Richie’s not getting me in a fuckin’ button up, though.” You don’t notice his expression’s minute faltering, crossing your arms, thinking. “Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants, could do what fuckin— Linguini’s doin—”

You point at the screen. “The bright red converse? Could do all black and then bright blue converse? Would that be cute or is that deeply unprofessional?”

Carmen tilts his head back and forth, trying to let you down easy, “I wouldn’t call it deeply unpr—”

“Heard. Okay, maybe like— Like a red bottom heel—” You kick your foot up in the air, for no real reason. A shoe isn’t suddenly going to appear on it for display. “Like not actual ones, duh— Like a black boot and I paint the sole blue—” 

“What’s with you and blue?” He's deeply amused, or maybe that's just Carmen's constant state, right now, twirling his fingers through your hair without a care in the world.

“It’s like, Bear colours. You do blue. Aprons, baskets— I guess I’m thinking of The Beef, but like, your lighting is kinda blue.” You shrug. “I wanna match.”

He nods, eyes on the movie, thinking far too much— Well, for the average person. For Carmy it’s a perfectly normal amount of thinking. “All black, blue sole, blue earrings, maybe? White apron for when you’re in the back?” 

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything.

“Yeah, that’s a cute look. As long as it’s easy to take off.” You hum. “Oh, y’know, Richie wanted to—” 

Speak of the Devil, and he shall call you for the fifth fucking time. “Fuckin— Pause it, hold on—”

Carmen pauses the wonderful rat chef in tandem with you answering the phone with, “I’m not fuckin’ comin’ to pool, Cousin!”

In one ear, out the other. “Fuck you! When are you getting here?” 

“I am not getting out of bed to play pool— A game I have not played— With a bunch of fuckin—”

“If you’re not down here in five minutes, Chip, on God—” “I’m gonna fuckin’ hang up again you motherfucker—” “And what? You’ll just answer again, won’t you?”

Richie’s tone gives him away. He’s giggling, bubbly, absolutely tanked on dirty shirleys. But there’s a very genuine joy to it. You’ve answered his stupid meaningless calls every time, the last four times, despite knowing they are in fact, stupid and meaningless. And that is rife with meaning. 

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Yeah. I’ll answer.”

“Good.” You can hear his smile mirrored through the phone. “Sell your Greyhound ticket to Fak.”

“Bitch, fuck no—” “We can go aroun’ the city tommorow! We’re closed! C’mon have some fuckin’ fun before you start working in hell!” “We’re gonna be stupid New York tourists?” “Eva wanted me to get her face on some m and m’s—” “You want me to come with you to the fucking Time Square M and M store?”

That’s when Carmen shoots up, shoulder against yours, panickedly muttering into the phone, “We cannot go to Time Square a week out from Christmas.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When you realize why there’s a pause, you shut your eyes tight, knowing exactly what you’re gonna get. Carmen realizes after watching your face scrunch up, he puts his face in his hands, “Shit—”

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

“No—” “You said you’re in bed! His bed?!” “We’re watching Ratatouille—” “Without me? You’re coming to the fucking M and M store— Also that big ass toy store—” “This is not a betrayal—” “Matter of fact, we’re gonna go see that big fuckin’ tree, too—” “You just want me to drive us home because you’re gonna be too hungover.”

“No, I want you to drive us home because I love you.” Richie’s slurring when he says it, like it’s some sort of gotcha. “So fuck you, actually.”

Carmen bites back laughter next to you, you just shake your head, tutting. “I love you, too, Cousin.”

“If you loved me you’d come play pool.” “I don’t fuckin’ know how to play pool!” “We’ll fuckin’ learn you somethin’ then!” “Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.” 

“You’ll come?”

You massage your brow bone, “Syd’s not gonna wanna sit next to Fak on the bus, you got room for four?”

“Yeah, but someone’s gonna have to sit on the console.” “I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.”

Carmen, now with two votes to sit on the console up front, presses his face into your shoulder. “What the fuck—” You peer down at him and whisper, “We’ll do shifts, don’t worry.”

“Put me on speaker phone.” “You’re talking so loud that Carmen can very clearly hear you.”

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

You put Richie on speaker phone. Carmen clears his throat, gruff, “Yo, Rich, can we finish the fuckin’ movie?”

“Patience is a virtue, or some shit. D’you see the resos?”

You mouth to Carmen, ‘Reservations?’ Carmen nods. “Yeah, I saw.”

“Gonna be fucked.” You frown when you hear that, but don’t want to interrupt. You silently word, ‘What happened?’ Carmen puts a finger over his mouth, he’ll explain in a second. 

“Gonna be fucked, yeah.” Carmen sniffs, swiping at his nose. “Good kind, though.”

“Yeah. Good kind.” There’s a sigh from Richie on the other end, that heavy sigh. Practically sobering up with just one sentence. “Christmas is in a week.”

“I know.” Carmen kisses his teeth. This is going to be the worst, for all of you. The missing link is going to be all too apparent.  “Good time to be busy.” 

“Good time to be busy.” Richie echoes. “Only way out is through.”

“Heard.” Carmen nods, what else is there to say? “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aright. Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo—” 

That’s when you interrupt, “Alright, what a wonderful phone call this has been goodbye, fuck you, love you, don’t call again, be safe!” You hang up before Richie can reply, head flopping over.

There’s a long silence before Carmen speaks again. “...I’m not tryna do that by the way—”

“No, I know, I’m worth more than a Holiday Inn.”

Snorts of laughter fill the stale air of this shitty little Holiday Inn one bed. Carmen pulls you back into him, arm on your waist. Before you can start the movie again, though, you have to ask. “Reservations fucked?”

He hums, tucking your hair back so he can see the side of your face better. “We started taking reservations last week— Just to test it out. N’ it was goin’ smooth but ‘tuh…” He squints. “Trending today with the whole uh— Chef thing. We’re kinda booked full ‘til the end of the year. And January.”

“Oh shit.” Word on the street is true. Any advertising is good advertising. Even when promoting the wrong fucking website. 

“Yeah, good kinda fucked, but like. Fucked.” Carmy nods, and after a second, grabs your hand. “But Christmas— Christmas Eve ‘n Christmas is off— And New Years— So, so you won’t be overwhelmed, hopefully.”

Your brain is already shooting miles ahead, you’re mentally back in Chicago, already. “We really gotta get on that cocktail menu.” There’s so much to do. New job, new menu, Christmas—

“And coffee.” Carmen sounds calm when he says it, which is deeply unlike him.

“And coffee.” You echo, eyes distant. You shoot back up. “Fuck, road trip is gonna be such a time sink. Okay— Well, okay— We’ll just— I’ll make a list tonight—”

 You’ve gotta figure out your hours. You don’t want to lose Chicago’s Kindest completely— Can’t be available 24/7 anymore, though. Mattina Tony’s gonna hate that. But he’ll be happy for you. Gotta tell Eden’s Club you’re not going to pick up shifts anymore. They’ll say they’re happy about it, but curse you behind your back. That’s fine. 

“List for what?”

“Christmas shopping.” Your eyes flick to him, still thinking. “I win Christmas every year.”

You’re getting Richie new cufflinks— But what of? Can’t just do initials, that’s lame. Fuck, what do you get Carmen? Can’t just do something cooking related— That’s lamer. But it’s also like— His only hobby.

“Don’t think that’s how Christmas works.”

“It fully is. And being in Time Square is gonna widen the fuck out of my search radius. Fuck what do I do for Syd? Fancy knife? They sell fancy knives here?”

Carmen shrugs, “I know a guy in the area.”

“Fantastic. I’ll get a list, you’ll help me out with stores. We’ll get coloured pencils at FAO, we’ll draft up a rough menu on the way home—” “Hey—” “It’s twelve hours of driving, so I think we can get a good chunk done. And then test out and finish on Monday—” “Baby—” “I was thinking we could do a section of house cocktails and coffees named after Chefs—” “I said don’t work on it—” “So like, each one would be themed after what I think of when I think of you—” 

Carmen grabs your face with both hands. “Tony.”

“Carmy.”

“Cannot believe I’m saying this to another person, but loosen your grip.” He strokes your cheekbones with his thumb. It’s nice. “You don’t have to do it all.”

It's a long silence of just staring back at him, so much so Carmy’s worried he has failed at this whole self-help thing. But then, you say, “Sara’s a good fucking therapist.”

“She’s got a pretty flexible schedule, too.”

Your face is still in his hands, you’re basically unblinking. “I think you’re a pink pepper aperol spritz with a slice of grapefruit. Maybe like a cherry syrup rim? Or is that too much? That might be too much.”

Carmen sighs in a way that sounds like a laugh. “How many drinks have you made in your head?”

“Just that one. But I think Richie would be something with whiskey and peaches— And somethin’ about Syd makes me think about figs, I don’t know why, which would go good with—”

Carm pinches your cheek, frowning, though there’s an admiration to it. “I said don’t work on it.” 

You push his hands away, “I haven’t written anything down! I can’t stop my brain from thinking! How many fuckin’ plates do you have in your head?”

He thinks, tilting his head back and forth. “A couple.” It’s a lot more than a couple. “They’re all bad, though.” 

“Bad, how?” 

“Bad, like weird.” Carmen gestures to the dimming screen of his laptop. You shake the touchpad awake. Rat chef is inspiring, and a good reminder of what he's meant to do, as are you. “It’s uh, it’s a good movie. It’s good to make new shit. But like, I need to be controlled.”

You tilt your head, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” Despite the fact that you’re disagreeing with him, there’s a happy hum, in Carmen’s voice.

“No. I think we should make really bad weird shit. At least in like, R and D.” You lean back down, against him. “Gotta try it before you brush off the idea. That’s the fun thing about art, y’know? Might work, might not.”

“I think that’s life.”

“Life is art, art is life, food is both.” 

“Woah.” “That was kind of a bar, wasn’t it!?” “Kinda tough.” “What’s your bad weird idea?”

“Steak with pop rocks.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes go wide, but with a smile. Shocked but delighted. It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. You lean into him further, back of your hand slapping his chest. 

“I know, but I was thinking the sugar would be good—”

“Like a sort of maple or sugar curing thing?” God, you just get it. And you give a shit about getting it.

“Exactly, n’ then it makes you like— Like salivate.” “I don’t think it’s that crazy an idea.”

He’s so excited to have someone encourage his ideas, for once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod assuredly. “We should do it. Try it, at least.”

“Okay. Cool.” Carmen tries and fails to not light up at the prospect of ‘we’. “You’ve still got a hard out at twelve?”

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” You unpause the movie. “And she’s gonna be pissed when I tell her I’ve volunteered us for a tourist spree, so I gotta be on her good side.”

Carmen shrugs, turning his attention back to the movie, arm around your shoulder. “It’ll be fun, if you’re there.”

It gives you both away.

Every sentence gives you both away. The way you speak, the way you act, the way you pose. It gives you both away. The way he moves your hair out of your face so you can see the movie clearly. The way you lift your head so he can tuck his arm under the pillow, so it doesn’t go numb under you. All without asking. The way you see each other, the way you are constantly doting and thinking of the next thing you can make the other—All without checking in. The Berf shirt you wear for pajamas, your refilled toiletries in his hotel shower. The domesticity comes all too easy to both of you. It gives you both away.

“Remy kinda sounds like Carmy, y’know—” “Don’t.” “My petit chef!”

You say I love you in every way but the way that makes it weird and bad and stupid and too soon. 

“Good God.” Is the first thing Sydney says, when you return to your shared hotel room. Face and voice filled with disgust, that is really only half sarcastic. “You’re beyond saving.”

You push past her, bumping shoulders as you do, smiling all the while. It’s nice that she can see you again. Even if she’s seeing that you’re down bad. “I didn’t even say anything—”

“Yeah, no, it’s that face on your face— God, it’s over—” “Baby, just say you’re happy for me.”

“I—” Syd blinks, rapid, hands in the air. “I’m happy for you— Tentatively.” Pending Carmen. Probationary forgiveness. 

“Thank you. I’ll take it.” You squat down to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge, when you do, you’re able to give Syd a once over.

She’s adorned in an old jazz club shirt from your highschool, boxers, and a long bonnet so old you recognize it. You recognize all of it. It’s nearly enough to make you cry. 

Funny, she’s thinking the same thing. Together, you speak. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

“Triple Jinx!” It’s on the third one that you decide to let her win and not say it a fourth time. 

It’s on the fourth one that Syd decides she doesn’t want to win. “Quadr— Man, this sucks.”

You know exactly what she means. You fall out of your squat, sitting on your butt with a frown. “It literally would’ve just taken one phone call.” You could’ve been doing this for years.

She sits down next to you, back against the front of the bed. “There were a lot of moments, where I thought to call you, honestly.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like uhm—” Syd’s face scrunches up her face, she’s already opened her mouth so she has to tell you, but she’s realizing she probably shouldn’t tell you. “There was this fucked day at The Beef, where we set up online orders, and I forgot to tick off pre-order—”

You unscrew the bottle cap, squinting. “I feel like that should automatically be off.” 

“That’s what I’m fucking saying!” She slaps your knee with the back of her hand, “But uh, no it was fucking on— And we got like— Like fucked— Said that already. Hundreds of orders. And it was so much and and— Richie was, at the time, kind of a dick—” 

“You don’t have to mince, I know what he was.” You take a sip of water, nodding. He’s a work in progress, as are you all.

“He was being a bitch and— And— I might’ve maybe lowkey stabbed him.”

“Holy fuck?!” You have to laugh, out of sheer shock. You choke on your water. “Syd?!”

“It— Swear to God—” Syd raises one hand, and puts the other over her heart. “Was an accident. Like— Like I was saying I would, and also I was like—  Thinking about it— But I didn’t mean to actually do it— Like he walked into it—”

“Jesus Christ, Manslaughter Sydney—!” “No! …A little. On occasion.”

“You ever wanna stab Carmy?” “Oh, all the fucking time.”

“Fair.” You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. You see each other, you take care of each other, without being asked. 

“And after a brutal stabbing—” “It was barely a graze, to his ass.” “—You thought to call me?”

“Yeah. You’re like. I dunno. I—” She sighs, taking a beat. “I’ve heard people talk about like— When they’re in a life or death scenario, or panicking, their first thought is like ‘I gotta call my mom’.” Syd clutches onto the water bottle like it’s a life preserver. “But I like— Like I don’t have that instinct, duh, dead mom club— But like, like my instinct when I’m scared is to call you.”

“You should’ve.” You want to take her hand, but don’t. Still working on that hesitation. You’ll both get there.

“You should’ve, too.” Syd lightly punches your knee. She tucks her lips in a line, thinking. “I would’ve been there.”

“I think I kinda got stuck in the same thought Mikey had, with Carmen.” You prop your knee up, hugging it to you. “Didn’t wanna drag you down with me. Didn’t want you to know I— That I’m not really uhm— That I’m not all that great.”

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water. In a good way. She continues. “I didn’t ask you to be my somme, either. I always thought you were cool. I would always think you’re cool.”

“I…” You clear your throat, controlling your micro-expressions poorly. “I— I know. I think I just… Always do too much? Like I do everything to make myself like— Needed.”

If they need you, they can’t leave you. Though, that didn’t really stop you two from growing apart, so there goes that theory. 

“You are needed.” Syd nearly rolls her eyes at you, but realizes that might be insensitive.

Syd could’ve called Terry, when the walk-in door broke. She called you. Syd could’ve called Claire— They’re not all that close, but she could’ve, when Nat went into labour. She called you. Syd could’ve called Fak, when Carmen’s oven broke. She called you. It’s insane that you’d ever think you weren’t her lifeline. 

But she clarifies anyway, “Not that— Not that you need to be needed though, for me to want you around.”

You snatch the water bottle from her. “Well, I know that now.”

“Good.”

You all but chug the water, God you’re dehydrated. Syd laughs, “It’s not gonna fucking run away from you.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” You grin, screwing the cap back on. Sniffing, you sober up a little. “We’re never not gonna be friends again.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Lest you go full on He Had it Comin’ on your fuckin’ co-workers again.”

She scoffs. “I promise to try to not stab someone in your presence.” 

“Deal.” You both laugh. You put your hand out to her, and without confirmation, do a handshake that must be more than a decade old. Dap, up-down, jellyfish out. Though, for your purposes, squid out. 

Incredible, you’ve hit Syd with love and nostalgia, she has to say yes now. “We’re roadtripping with Richie and Carmen instead of taking the Greyhound.”

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” “It will be fun—” “Define fun for me, right now—” “We can get Christmas shopping done—”

“Fuck. Christmas is in a week.” “I know!” 

Syd scrunches up her nose. “What do I get my dad?”

“Sounds like you need to do some window shopping.” You could probably recommend something if you thought about it for two more seconds, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to drag her along. “We could go to a Tiffany’s or something.”

“What and get him a locket?” “I’m honestly just naming stores, at this point.”

She’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. “...Could go to the MET, go through the gift shop. He’s a tchotchke guy.”

You hum, nodding. You can get her to fold. “Look at some expos, get some artistic inspiration?”

Syd’s eyes roll back, and she rolls her head back with them, head on the edge of the bed, in dismay. “...Are we doing gifts?” 

You shrug, “Was thinking I’d get you a little something.”

“So super over the top and extravagant?” “What’s the fun in telling?” “I hate you.” “So you’ll come?”

She sighs, husky. “Yeah…” She says it like she’s upset but you both know Syd is a little excited. 

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

A comfortable silence fills the room. You flop your back down on the floor, laying on the carpet. “Thank you for helping Carmy.”

“Didn’t do much.” Syd shrugs, lazily turning her head on the bed to you. “He just needs pushing, sometimes.”

You hum, nodding. “Well, thank you for pushing.”

“You’re so welcome, dude.” You both laugh, and after another long gap of silence, she kicks you. “Stop lying on the dirty ass hotel floor, we paid for a bed.” 

“There’s something about laying on the floor, man.” You shake your head. “Get down here. I can see the scope of the universe from down here, actually.”

With a profoundly deep sigh, Syd rolls over to you. Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles. “Oh yeah, secrets of the universe, right there.”

“I told you.” You nod, wisely. You frown. “...When do you think it’s like, too soon, to say ‘I love you’?”

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—” “Just answer!” “Definitely right now is too fucking soon!” “Well, yeah, I fuckin’ figured—!” “I’d say like, another month or two, minimum.”

“I think I might explode, by then, if I’m being honest.” You turn your head to her. “I’m really worried I’m gonna forget I haven’t already said it and I’m gonna say it at a stupid moment and it’s gonna be lame and embarrassing and bad.”

Syd turns her head to you. “Yeah, that’s probably what’s gonna happen.”

“Okay, so you’re no fuckin’ help.” You snort. 

“What do you want me to say? You love to the point of embarrassment.” She shrugs, smiling at your demise. But then Syd sobers up a little, turning her body to face you, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you sure, though?”

“I think so, yeah.” You cross your arms, nodding, assuring yourself, practically. “I feel what I think can only be described as emotionally violent— affectionately. And I think that’s what love is. Pretty sure.”

“Hm.” Syd watches you watch her. You’re absolutely getting lost in your own brain. She pokes the space between your eyebrows, you wake back up. “What’s in there?”

You blink, “Thinking of all the worst ways I could say it.” In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth.

“Okay, that sounds awful and unproductive so let’s go to bed, huh?” Syd grunts, sitting up. She reaches for your hand to help you stand up with her. “Just try saying it normal.”

You take a breath, looking her in the eyes, say it normal. “Love you.”

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

“Oh, so I can say it—” “In two months.”

“Wait, is one more month hard off the table now—” “Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!”

Just try to make it to next year without saying it, you’d take that happily. Just make it to Christmas. Okay, maybe just make it until you get back to Chicago…Maybe just take a vow of silence. 

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!”

wooooo

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