#actually satisfied with how this one turned out

[sinsxo]

clink, it’s you! ☆ itoshi sae ── ★ ˙🍒 ̟ !!

based on this request.

✦ synopsis: even from miles away, every clink of metal reminds sae of you. you entered his life with a jingle, and never left since.

✦ contains: fluff.

✦ word count: 0.8k words.

read more: masterlist — itoshi sae.

itoshi sae turns around every time he hears the sound of metal clinking against metal. not because it annoys him, but because it reminds him — of you.

he wasn’t used to it at first. if anything, it used to overstimulate him. but when he’s all alone in a foreign country, in a hotel room so quiet you could hear a pin drop, he can’t help but miss you, miss the sound of your jewellery jingling — the bells, the metallic friction — it was basically your trademark, and that made him miss you even more.

the familiar noise takes him back to the day you both first met. back then, neither of you had the slightest idea that you’d end up married.

he remembers walking down the street with his usual morning coffee in hand, until he hears the sound of quick footsteps and metal clinking behind him. before you can even blurt out a “sorry” or “excuse me”, he’s already turned around, catching your wrist mid-air with his free hand.

“oh—” you gasp, startled, as he lets go of you. “not to alarm you or anything, i wasn’t trying to stalk you. i hope i don’t look like a stalker or anything, i know you’re itoshi sae and all—”

your hands flail everywhere as you ramble — with a drink in hand — explaining everything except the actual problem. he could barely hear you over jingle jangling of your jewellery.

“you’re noisy,” he says, flatly.

“oh,” you smile sheepishly. “did i talk too much? anyway, i think you took my drink.”

he glances down at the cup in his hand, checks the barely readable name scribbled on it, then takes a sip.

“this is tea,” he says.

“um, yeah. i think you ordered coffee, that’s my tea.”

“oh. you can have mine.”

“i don’t drink coffee. here’s yours.”

he takes it and stares at you, and you stare back.

“…i’ll buy you another one.”

“what about you give me your number instead?” you blurt out, then immediately cover your mouth and wave your hands in panic, the jingling amplifying. “wait, i mean— i’m in a rush right now, so like— treat me another day?”

he’s about to reply when your phone rings.

“yes, i’ll be right there!” you say, slipping a business card into his pocket since his hands were full. “okay, here’s my number, text me!”

he was left speechless as he watched you leave, holding two drinks in his hand, contemplating what to do with them. he ended up giving his coffee to his manager.

and yeah, sure. he could’ve ignored you, but sae doesn’t really like the feeling of owing people — which is why he ends up sitting across from you, listening to you talk about… something. something about your job, a new project maybe. he’s not really keeping track. instead, he finds himself more focused on your wrist — how it doesn’t seem weighed down at all despite the absurd amount of jewellery clinging to it. your hands move with ease, animated as you speak.

he wanted to stop you at first, to tell you to tone it down. but after seeing your smile, your passion, how expressive you are — he can’t bring himself to. and somehow, he finds himself repeating the same thing every weekend. from cafes and late-night dinners, to seeing you in the stands during his matches, to the most unforgettable moment of all — watching you walk down the aisle toward him, looking stunning in the wedding dress you chose together.

so when he walks down the streets of spain one day, looking for a souvenir to bring home, he forgets about keychains and postcards the moment he sees a bracelet in the window of a jewellery shop — tiny gems, a delicate bell, intricate detailing — he knows, instantly, it’s meant for you.

he holds the velvet box in his hand, feeling oddly satisfied. the air’s cooler today, the weather’s nice, his mood is better than usual. why? he doesn’t have a reason. maybe just thinking of you made his day brighter.

he keeps walking, until he hears the unmistakable clinking again. it wasn’t just any kind of clink, it was a familiar pattern of clinking that he recognised. so he turns around, and sees you standing there, frozen mid-step like a mouse caught sneaking food from the kitchen.

“oh, uh… surprise!” you say, visibly flustered. “how’d you know?”

“heard you from a mile away,” he replies, taking your wrist gently and lifting it to show you the familiar chaos of jewellery jangling around it. “what’re you doing here?”

“project went well, got a few days off,” you grin. “missed you, so i came to see you. your manager told me where you were. so dedicated, aren’t i?”

he hums in response, links his fingers with yours, and takes you to a nearby cafe.

as usual, you go on about your day, and he listens — quietly, always. until he stops you mid-sentence, eyes fixed on your wrist.

“sae?” you ask, pausing. “too noisy?”

“no,” he murmurs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a velvet box.

he opens it, takes out the bracelet he had just bought, and adds it to the collection on your wrist — a perfect addition to the mess of metal and dangling charms already there.

“now go on.”

and you can’t help but grin like an idiot, while he sits across from you and realises once again, just how deeply fond he is of his expressive wife.

it’s enough proof that just one clink! is enough to bring a thousand thoughts of you.

© sinsxo , dividers by @enchanthings & @uzmacchiato.

[sidelineddrunkdial]

limerence | chapter one | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader x chef luca

angst. angst. angst. w/ a love triangle.

You've been in a relationship with Carmy for years, but before there was Carmy, there was Luca. Well, sort of. There was sort of Luca. You were never actually really together, but still. Luca's moving back to Chicago, and Carmy's burning out. Will your relationship survive, or will old flames be reignited?Well, let's find out.

a/n: hey thanks for reading, u should know this is part of a 50k+ word fic that isn't finished yet but i thought i should start posting in installments, and thank u so much in general for the response to my fics im so excited ive had most of these saved for a while now and was just afraid to get back to posting bc i used to write on a different account but burnt out and was writing but afraid to return so thank u for making me feel good about this it means everything. There will eventually be a sydney x oc insert, i repeat, this story WILL contain an oc at some point bc one was needed as a plot device for stuff prior to chicago. fic playlist

The restaurant industry isn’t for the weak. 

Long hours.

Typically thankless. 

High rates of alcoholism, high rates of chronic anger, high blood pressure.

He always came home smelling like smoke, which he had sworn he had quit. 

He swore a lot of things.

Swore he’d come home on time, swore you’d do something this week on his day off, swore that you’d spend more time together at all, swore that he’d at least talk to you…nothing. 

You knew you had to leave maybe about a year ago. But you stayed regardless. How come? You couldn’t be certain. Maybe it was because you liked his family, or because you liked the people he worked with. Maybe it was because of how good everything was when you had first started seeing each other, when you first met he made you feel as if you had hung the stars in the sky yourself…these days he doesn’t look at you much at all. 

Maybe it was because you couldn’t handle seeing him all alone with everything he was always going through.

You heard the door unlock from the couch and then it opening, stirring you from your light sleep which you had accidentally fallen into while watching some show on Netflix waiting up for Carmy to come home, the “Are you still watching?” prompt had long disappeared, replaced with a dark, empty screen. 

You could hear him step inside, but you felt a little awkward tonight for reasons which you weren’t entirely certain of, opting to keep your head down and hidden behind the couch, you hear Carmen drop his keys and other belongings at the door before approaching the bedroom. 

About halfway into the doorframe of the bedroom, you got up from the couch and started towards him, 

“Carm…” 

Carmen startles every-so-slightly, then turning towards you,

“Jesus Christ…You trying to give me a heart attack?”

You give him a genuine and apologetic look, “I’m sorry…”

He runs a hand through his hair, he looks exhausted. 

“Fuck…” sliding his hand down his face, he turns his whole body back towards you,

“Where were you?”

You look at him perplexed, 

“Where-...Where was I?”

“Yea, I mean, shit, did you just materialize out of thin air?”

“No.”

“Yea, so, where were you?”

“The couch.” 

“The couch?”

“Yea, I,” you shift your feet, that self-conscious feeling which you had first felt when you heard him coming in returning to you, “I guess I fell asleep or something…” you mumbled, trailing off, looking down at the floor.

“Ah, shit,” Carmen puts his hand over his head, a silent facepalm, “I forgot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Carm.”

“Really?”

“Yea, it’s okay.”

He nods at you, seemingly satisfied with the end of the interaction, but something in you hopes for more.

You wait for it. Some sort of follow up to it, maybe a deeper apology. But he just walks past you, into the bedroom, pulling off his shirt and letting it fall into the laundry basket by the door of the room. You say nothing more, following him a minute later, brushing your teeth in the dim light of the bathroom, looking up at the middle light over the sink which Carmen had promised to change after the lightbulb had gone out weeks before. 

He’s already asleep by the time you crawl into bed.

You lay down beside him, staring at the ceiling for a while, and you’re not entirely sure why, but you begin to cry.

When you woke up the next morning, Carmen was gone, turning and looking over at the clock it read a big bright red 7:30AM, you rolled back over and pulled the sheets over your head, grabbing your phone from off the bedside table and clicking it open in the process.

You opened the calendar app, reading off the events of the day, 

Meeting at 1pm, dinner at 7pm…

You couldn’t help but flip back to the day beforehand, looking at the screen, you could feel your heart shatter a little, the screen read,

All day- Anniversary,

at the very top of the day. 

You knew he hadn’t forgotten, not completely, opening your text chain from yesterday a brief and to the point, ‘happy anniversary babe, love you, see you tn x,’ staring back at you, sent at 5:12PM the day before. 

He wasn’t lying, he had seen you last night, just not as early as you had initially planned. 

Last week standing in the kitchen, him on the couch just across the way, you called over, 

“Hey- Carm?”

Looking up from his phone he called back, “What’s up?”

“So, like, next week…”

“Next week?”

“Yea, so like, for next week, our anni-”

“Oh shit, yea, sorry, our anniversary next week,”

“Yea, what do you want to do?”

“I mean- I dunno, babe, whatever you want to do.”

“You sure?”

“Yea,”

“Do you want to maybe just,” you think for a moment, knowing he was incredibly busy with work and everything, you reconsider what you had initially been thinking of suggesting and opt for something more simplistic instead…less demanding, “How about we just…stay in?”

“Really?”

“Yea, really, when you come home from work-” you pause for a moment thinking again, “maybe you can pick something up and we can watch a movie or something like that?”

“Yea, okay, sounds good,” he pauses, thinking for a moment, before looking you in the eye, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay, sounds good,” he looks back down at his phone, eyes moving side to side, reading, before furiously texting someone back.

“Sounds good…” you mutter to yourself, going back to spreading some jelly on a piece of bread. 

So yea, he hadn’t forgotten, per say, he had just…he was just too late. 

-

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t miss him. 

Him in general.

Him in the beginning of the relationship.

When you had first gotten together, everything seemed really good, like you were unstoppable together, like you could do anything. And you did…sort of, he got what he wanted, and so did you, in a way. 

You did have to move over to where Carmen was located pretty abruptly, and you got swept up in the rush of it all and everything that opening a restaurant entailed, but it’s not like you uprooted your entire life for him, no. You had your own things, and he had his, and it was good, it is good. 

When you had first met, it was when he was still working at noma. 

You had gone to Denmark to visit your friend, Luca, who you had known from an exchange program which you had done in undergraduate school, it was during that time that you had met Luca and immediately hit it off with him. 

It was also there in Denmark, during one of your many visits during your third year of law school, where you had decided to attend a small party with him, 

“Are you sure you want to go to this thing- I mean, we really don’t have to, it’ll probably be kind of fucking, you know, kind of boring anyways. It’ll just be mainly people from work and…Yea, I’m just saying, you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Just say the word and we both get to get out of it.” 

You laughed at him, appreciating how much he cared for you (or how much he really wanted to get out of going to this party, it could’ve been either one).

“No- Luca- stop it. I really do.”

“Do what?”

“Want to go!”

“Fuck- really?” 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” 

“I don’t know if I can fully agree with that…”

“Oh, I get it,” you recoil in mock offense, “You just don’t want to have to introduce me to your friends-”

“What? No that’s not-”

“-You’re embarrassed!”

“No-”

“You’re embarrassed of me! Ashamed!” 

Luca shot you an annoyed expression before smiling at you.

“Fuck you.”

You grin back at him, “Fuck you too,” you tossed him the keys to his apartment, “Now let’s go! Let’s get to this party thing- I don’t want to be the last person there, gotta make a good first impression.”

“Okay sure- but you don’t want to be like, the first person there.” 

“I’ll just make you walk in first.”

Frowning at you, “Oh so you just have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Obviously.” 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, looking at each other just in front of the door, neither of you moving to reach for the handle, just looking at each other in comfortable silence, expectantly, like something was going to happen.

“...Are you sure you want to go?” Luca broke the silence, making you laugh again.

“Oh my god, Luca, yes, do you?”

“Well obviously fucking not.”

“Well too bad, I do.”

“Fuck you.”

And that’s how you and Luca ended up going to the party that night. 

He wasn’t entirely wrong. 

It was a little lame, there weren’t a lot of people there, but there were just enough to make it more crowded than you were comfortable with. You stood towards the corner of a room which you presumed to be a living room area of sorts, it was an open floor plan type of place with a spacious kitchen and a nice dining room which were all sort of part of the same area, a table with scattered plates of food and a large variety of drinks sat just to your left. Luca stood uncomfortably behind you.

“Who are these people?” you asked, looking behind you to Luca.

“Mostly people from noma- and then the friends of the people at noma, I told you- No, warned you, it would be lame, and you didn’t listen.”

“Yea, well-”

“Luca.”

You heard a voice in front of you, turning your head back forwards, this was when you first officially laid eyes on Carmen. 

He was shorter than Luca with longer curly hair and, much like Luca, quite the collection of tattoos scattered about his arms and hands. 

You immediately liked him. 

“Carmen.”

“I thought you weren’t gonna come?”

“Well- Call it a change of heart.”

“I see, well, glad you’re here.”

“Yea.”

“And who is this?” Carmen asked, motioning to you, face stoic in a way that made you nervous.

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Carmen turned his gaze to you, making the hardest eye contact that you had ever experienced in your life.

“And who are you?”

You could feel your face heat up.

“I’m (y/n).”

“Carmen,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake, you took it, awkwardly intertwining hands and shaking them twice before letting go and retracting your hand, wiping it on your leg, suddenly very self-conscious about whether there might be sweat on them or not.

“Yea, I- I know.”

“You know?”

“Yea.”

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest, “How?”

You twisted the hem of your shirt, looking down at it, “How what?”

“How did you know my name?” 

You looked back up to meet his eyes, “Um- Luca like, just said it.”

“Oh,” a noticeable red flush made its way across the bridge of his nose to his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I’m all fucked up tonight, a lot to drink.”

“That’s okay,” you said, “I’m also a forgetful drunk.”

“Is that right?”

“Yea.”

“Speaking of drunk- can I get you a drink?” 

You looked back towards Luca, who you now realized had been silent for a while, “Do you want one Luca?”

He looked at Carmen, and then you, back at Carmen, and then returning his gaze to you again-

“Nah, that’s okay,” he crossed his arms and leaned his back against the wall, “I think I’m gonna stay here and keep being all brooding and mysterious and sexy.”

You laughed in response,

“Sexy?”

“What- You don’t think I am?”

“I-” Carmen cleared his throat in front of you, not in a rude way, just sort of quietly and awkwardly, nervously shifting his feet, you turned back towards him.

“Yes- sorry, Carm, uh- drinks?”

He gave you a small smile, “Yea.” 

You followed him over to the other side of the room, towards a sliding glass door which you presumed led to a back patio of some sort, you shot one last glance at Luca who motioned to you with his hand to ‘go on,’ while he wiggled his eyebrows at you once, twice, and then took out his phone, leaning back against the wall, and you turned back to Carmen.

“Oh- fuck,” you said, stepping out of the door and onto a back patio.

“Hm?” Carmen hummed in response, reaching down to what appeared to be some type of cooler and fishing his hand around in it.

“The air- it’s so much better outside.”

Carmen gave you a small snort, looking up at you, “Beer? Seltzer? Questionable wine cooler?” 

“Alcohol.”

“They’re all alcohol, dear,” 

Dear, you remembered how much that had made you blush, how badly it had tripped you up in that moment.

You didn’t have a mirror, or any other reflective surface on you for that matter, but you already knew that you turned red as a beet, immediately regretting saying anything as you repeated the word before you could give a second thought to it-

“Dear?” You echoed back to him, blinking.

“Yes?”

“What?”

“I thought you were asking me somethin’,”

“What do you mean?” 

“I thought you were calling me dear,”

“What- no, I mean, I would, but I was just repeating what you said, because it- It caught me off guard,” you looked down, taking a beer from his hand as he passed you one and cracked open one for himself, “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

“What- dear?”

“Yea, dear…And also babe, honey, darling, or anything else for that matter.”

He gave you a shocked look, taking a swig of his drink before turning to you again.

“What- so you’ve never been flirted with or something?”

“What, flirt-Oh my god, dude, are you flirting with me?”

“Ouch, dude.”

“Sorry.”

“Yea, dude, I’m flirting with you.” 

Later that night he asked you to go back to his place, and you did, Luca giving you the go-ahead and making sure you were safe, promising to come pick you up the next day to take you back to his place. 

You ended up spending a lot of time with Carmen during that trip, Luca always promising to you that it was “totally okay,” and that there was “always next time,” to do one thing or another together, and something about how if this was truly someone who might be the one that he felt it was entirely necessary for you to pursue that. You were incredibly grateful for his leniency and understanding, Luca was truly always a great friend. 

After your meeting you ended up spending a lot of time texting, calling, and visiting each other back and forth, racking up what could only be described as record breaking numbers of miles on your respective credit card rewards programs as you flew to one another multiple times over the course of just a month sometimes. 

You truly felt like if love was real, that this was surely it.

This being said, you definitely have been wrong before. 

But he made you feel so…alive, alive in ways which you had never felt before, the whole thing was too exciting and too intoxicating to stop.

So when Carm had asked you to move in with him, uprooting your life completely from where you had lived previously to come to Chicago, you did.

When he asked for help setting up the restaurant and for patience while it happened, of course you were happy to help and happy to wait.

You were always happy to wait. 

Or at least that’s what you allowed him to believe. 

-

You aren’t a clueless person. Things had been falling apart, or at least aren’t quite what they used to be. But it’s not as if things were all falling apart at once. They almost never do.

There were still good days. Really good days, even. There were still those mornings where you’d wake up to a coffee cup from the shop on the corner of your block, on the bedside table, a heart haphazardly scribbled on the side of it in black sharpie. Even if he had left before saying goodbye. Even if it had gone cold. There were still times in the middle of the night when you were both awake, restless, unable to sleep, next to one another staring at the ceiling and he’d lean closer to you and mumble something like, “You’re the only thing keeping me sane in this world, you’re all that makes sense to me.”

But more often than not, you felt more like a ghost than a person. Like you were just something that was lingering in the apartment longer than it ever should have been. 

You liked to leave notes on his things with little post-its, his shoe, his keys, his jacket pocket; bad jokes, a doodle of your cat, a reminder that you loved him. So much. 

Sometime he’d text back, 

‘thnx babe’

But other times you’d catch them in the trash, or under a table. Crumpled. Stained with oil. Looking like he had never even read them. 

The worst part was, you didn’t know which one hurt more. 

-

One night, his shift seemed to bleed from late night into early morning, he came home and found you still awake. Sitting on the couch, blanket pulled up to your chin, face dimly lit by your laptop which was resting on your thighs. 

He sat down next to you, quiet, exhausted, his leg touching yours, he leaned his head on your shoulder. 

Smoke. 

You smelt it on him.

You decided not to say anything.

“Hi Carmy,” you said quietly, you shut your laptop and placed it on the ground in front of you.

“Hey,” he responded back to you, quiet, reserved, exhausted.

“How was your day?”

“It was…” it’s like you can hear the gears in his head, turning, uncertain if he should let you in or not, “It was busy.” 

You nod into his hair in response and he puts his head in your lap, you both sat in silence like that for a while, until you noticed the sun peaking through the blinds, 

“Can we go to bed?” Carm whispers it softly into your lap.

“Yes Carm, we can go to bed.”

-

You wake up the next morning with a start, it was later in the day, and the room was scattered with clear remnants of Carmen having had done the same. A dresser drawer half opened with one of his many white t-shirts sticking out, boxers on the floor next to the hamper just missing it, the door to the bedroom still slightly ajar, you rub your eyes and open your phone. 

The time is 12:30PM, it’s Saturday. Opening your notifications, you find a text:

Sent at 10:16AM

LUCA

You smile at the screen, clicking the text message open it reads,

‘hey so ik u prob already know but im moving to chicago this week, was wondering if u wanted to help me move in? (dinner will be provided)’

You think on it for a moment before texting back.

‘when u need me by?’

‘today too soon?’

‘not at all’

He texted you his new address, close enough to walk over in no more than twenty minutes, you shower, get ready, throw on your coat, a pair of shoes, and you’re out the door.

-

When you get to his place, Luca’s already outside, seemingly waiting for you. He’s sitting on the steps up to his front door, leaning back, a peaceful expression on his face, a pair of headphones cover his ears,

“Luca!” you call out to him still a few houses down, but you feel your stomach flip at the sight of him, and pick up your pace, despite the headphones Luca still seems to have heard you through whatever he was listening to because he quickly looks your way, flips them from his head to drape around his neck and calls out back to you.

“(y/n)!” He gets up from his steps, moving towards you, meeting you in the middle, you embrace, and then pulling away-

“I feel like it’s been forever,” you say,

“Yea, right?” he responds before narrowing his eyes at you and playfully adding, “-And whose fault is that?” 

You roll your eyes, looking down to your shoes.

“Me,” you mumble under your breath.

“Sorry what was that again- didn’t quite hear you?”

You look back at him, smiling.

“Me! You asshole, me, it’s my fault.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he shoots you a smile, “You ready to unpack some boxes, or what?”

“Born ready.” 

You both step inside to his place, you immediately clock how good it smells in there, like vanilla and baking bread, a touch of smoke, the type that rose out of a pan, not a cigarette. Luca helps you with your jacket as you pull it off, he hangs it up on a stray hook on the wall by the door, and you start to take off your shoes.

“You know,” he starts while moving over to a pile of boxes in the center of the room, the entryway opening up into a living room, kitchen, dining room area, another open floor plan similar to his last place in Denmark, and the house that that party was at, the place it had all started, “I’m a little surprised you didn’t text me first.”

You finish taking your shoes off, moving towards him and the pile of boxes.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, I mean, I mean nothing bad by it or anything, I just thought you might text me first when you heard I was moving here.” 

You looked at him, perplexed.

“I’m sorry Luca, I’m not really sure what you mean.”

“Oh,” he raises a brow at you while picking up a lamp out of a box marked ‘FRAGILE’ across the top in big red lettering, “You mean Carmen didn’t tell you I was coming here?” 

You blinked at him, couldn’t say anything for a moment, shocked.

“No?”

“No?” he blinks back at you, “Really?”

“Yea.”

Luca and you just stand there looking at each other for a moment before he breaks the silence, shrugging.

“That’s weird.” 

You nod slowly, still unmoving, while Luca moves to put the lamp down on a small table in the living room area right next to a vase balanced on a small stack of books, dessert-based books, by the looks of it. Luca then moves back to the pile of boxes, starting to unwrap something else wrapped up in bubble wrap,

“That’s…weird.” you echo back at him quietly.

Luca looks up at you, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, pitiful gaze on his face which you can tell he’s trying to hide while he says:

“I mean, maybe he just forgot.”

“Yea, maybe,” you respond, but the words feel sour in your mouth, you can’t help but wonder, ‘how does someone just forget about something like this?’ 

You think it, but you don’t say it.

You crouch down beside Luca, grabbing at the edges of a taped up box in an attempt to open it, just to have something to do with your hands.

“It’s not like we haven’t been talking,” you add quickly and maybe just a bit too defensively,

Luca made a soft noise in response, not an agreement or disagreement, just a confirmation that he had heard you.

You keep pulling at the edges of the box, and picking at the edges of the packing tape, you just can’t seem to be able to get it off, you run a hand over your face, starting to get very frustrated with this box which is seemingly refusing to open up. 

Luca stands over you, reaching over your shoulder, prying the box open with ease, revealing even more books, 

“Thanks,” you mumble, picking up a few, and turning to shelve them on a bookcase in the living room, before turning to him playfully, “I loosened it for you.”

“Yea,” he smiles at you, “Sure, you can tell yourself that.” 

“I will,” you quip back, you drag the box over the floor over to the shelf, reaching down to pick up another small stack and turning to line them up on the shelves.

You can feel him watching you as you move. 

Luca clears his throat.

“Hey (y/n),”

“Mhm?” you respond, not turning around to meet his eye.

“I don’t mean to pry but like-,” Luca was never one to be awkward but suddenly it felt like he was, “Are you okay?”

You paused, book halfway onto the shelf, accidentally pausing just long enough for it to be suspicious, and just long enough to make it feel worse.

“Yea, of course, I mean-” you motion around the room, “I’m helping you move in, it’s a good day!” 

You smile at him for extra measure before returning to your unpacking activities.

“Are you sure?” Luca raises a meaningful eyebrow at you.

“Sure about what?” 

“I mean,” he started before pausing, and then starting again, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You freeze with your hand still on the spine of a book.

“I’m not.”

Luca says nothing in response to you, he just sits back on his heels in front of a box, forearms resting on his thighs, watching you like he’s trying to give you space to tell the truth if you decide that you want to.

You clear your throat, “So, what’s the job?”

“Hm?”

“Like, what brought you here?”

“Oh yea,” he leans back from a box, “My sister lives here…And Marcus and Carm said they could use a hand with the new menu…” he hesitates before continuing on, “And it just all aligned…it ended up feeling like the right time to leave, I was stagnating.” 

You nodded in response, running a finger along the shelf. 

He carefully adds, “I was also just feeling…really tired of having to watch people I love fall apart from far away, and not being able to do a single fucking thing about it.” 

By the look on his face, you can tell that it landed heavier than he had meant for it to. 

You didn’t respond to him, instead, you made your way back over to the boxes, kneeled beside him, and began opening another box.

“Tell me where this one goes?” 

Luca watches you as you reach for a pair of scissors which he had fished out of another box while you were shelving the books, thank God.

“Bedroom.” 

-

A few hours later you had both decided you were done for the day, with the living room unpacked, most of the kitchen, and having had just finished the bedroom, you both slid down, sitting at the foot of his bed next to one another, his hands on his knees, your legs splayed out straight in front of you, you let out a long exacerbated breath.

“Dinner?” 

You look to him, and then pick up your phone from beside you, quickly clicking on the homescreen just in case Carm might've texted you anything, nothing. 

“Sounds good,” you say, smiling lightly.

“Fantastic, tell me the shittiest takeout place in this city,” Luca joked, standing up, grinning, stretching his hands above his head, the bottom hem of his shirt lifting slightly in the process revealing the ‘Calvin Klein’ band of his boxers around his waist, you averted your gaze quickly.

“Shittiest, huh? You’re really testing me here.”

He pulled out his phone, clicking open a text chain, he scrolls upwards, finally landing on what looked to be a long list-like message from someone, 

“Well- It looks like there’s a place called The Golden Duck, and apparently it’s the most MSG riddled food in the city.”

“Oh well, that means it’s delicious.” 

“Exactly.” 

He ordered for both of you on his phone, tossed it onto his bed, and then himself, his top half on the bed with him staring at the ceiling from his mattress, while his legs hanging off the side,

“So, what’s it been like?”

“What’s what been like?” You turn towards Luca, sitting up on your knees, resting your forearms on the bed and resting your head on them, you and Luca looking directly at one another, his head turned to you from his laying down position, you looking at him from your position at the very end of the mattress, 

“What was it like, and how has it been like moving here? I mean, starting over.” 

You hesitated for a moment.

“I mean, I guess it’s kinda weird. Like it’s all familiar, I know how to get around without Google Maps, and I know where everything in my place-, sorry, me and Carm’s- our place, is…Like, it’s all familiar, but at the same time, to be honest? Nothing feels completely right yet.”

He grins at you, “You do know you moved here like three years ago, right?”

You roll your eyes at him, “Shutup, you asked, now do you want to hear my answer or not?”

“By all means.”

You continue.

“I’m just, it’s like I’m still waiting for something to like, click. I feel like I’m just holding my breath, waiting for it.”

Luca nodded slowly at you.

“Yea I can get that, it can feel like being kinda, trapped between two worlds. Like, me, personally, I thought Chicago might feel like home when I got back, because you know, I’ve been here before, my sister is here, but it’s more like a pause than anything.”

You looked away, and then back, noticing how the street lights coming in from the window fell across his face in a way that made it extravagantly clear that he was incredibly handsome, like the type of handsome that snuck up and pounced on you, you looked away again, pretending not to have noticed, worried he might be able to read your mind or something. 

“Yeah.”

There was a silence, comfortable and charged all at once, until Luca finally broke it, peering at his phone.

“Oh shit- it’s here.” 

You watch as Luca gets up from the bed, stretching his back out and rubbing the back of his neck, heading for the door. You follow him down the hall, both of you barefoot, you could feel the hardwood cool under the soles of your feet. 

He opens the door, trading a few words with the delivery guy, making him laugh and smile in only a few lines. Luca had always had that type of affect on people, you had always envied him for this ability. He had a kind of voice that made you trust him immediately without even really knowing why. He slips the guy two ten dollar bills, (and as if he wasn’t already extremely likable, he was a damn good tipper too), and then he shuts the door and you trail behind him, watching him unpack food onto the kitchen counter. Styrofoam containers, paper boxes, plastic utensils and two pairs of wooden chopsticks wrapped in red paper, two sweating cans of soda. 

“God, it smells like regret,” you say peeking over his shoulder.

“Best kind of dinner, five dollar noodles, what could go wrong?” he responds, “Tonight, we feast like royalty.”

He motions to the barstools at the counter, telling you to sit down, you do. 

The food is exactly what was on paper. Five dollar noodles. Objectively questionable, but also, somehow something which you would order again and again. It was perfect. 

Halfway through eating, Luca turns to you, a bit more serious than before.

“Hey,” he starts, “Not to be weird or anything, but thanks, like seriously, for helping me out…For showing up. It means a lot.”

You sip your soda, meeting his eyes over the top of the can, bringing it down from your mouth.

“Oh my god, Luca, of course, literally anytime,” you say while placing the can down on the counter, “That’s what friends are for.” 

He nods, his smile shifting slightly, a look you don’t quite recognize flashing in his eyes, not sad, not amused, something like disbelief. Something you hadn’t seen in a while.

“I still owe you though- Tonight’s dinner doesn’t count.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your chopsticks dangling in between your fingers.

“What, you want an invoice for manual labor or something?” 

“No,” he grins at you, “I mean, I wanna cook something for you. Like actually, once I get my whole kitchen all set up and in order, like…I need someone to try some stuff I’m been trying to make for a new menu, and I think it could be fun to have you be like…You know, the test taster or something.” 

“Ah, I see,” you say, “So you just want more free unpaid labor?”

“Exactly.”

“Mover, interior designer-”

“Well, I would hardly call you that-”

“Taste tester…What’s next? Electrician? Plumber?”

“Well, actually, now that you mention it, I do have a lightbulb that needs changing and I do need help figuring out how to use the weird portal thing my landlord has to pay the electric bil-”

“Woah, I’m gonna stop you right there,”

“What?”

“That’s one thing I don’t know how to do?”

“What do you mean? You don’t know how to pay an electric bill?”

“No, I do, I mean, even if it’s a new weird portal system thing I could definitely figure it out, it’s just, that’s kind of…That’s kind of Carm’s one thing, you know?”

“His one thing? No, I don’t know. What do you mean?”

“You know, it’s like his…chore?” 

“His chore?”

“Yea, like I do stuff, he does stuff, he makes sure the electric bill gets in on time.”

Luca stares at you, an eyebrow raised, a frown on his face.

“Okay…”

“What? It’s not like I can’t, I don’t-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“So, what do you mean?”

“I mean like…,” he looks up, thinking before speaking again, “No offense but like, what do you mean his ‘one thing’ like, surely, he does more…things?”

“Oh no- He like, he definitely does, like…He just has a lot on his plate, and he does a lot for everything outside the apartment, you know what I mean?” 

“Yea, I guess, I mean, I get what you’re saying but like…”

“Like what?”

“Like no offense to anyone, I truly mean that, but aren’t you like a lawyer or something (y/n)?”

“Well I- Yes, I mean, I am, but I’m like, I’m okay.”

Luca raises an eyebrow at you,

“I am!” you protest, “I’m good!”

“(y/n), aren’t you like a public defender and a pro bono immigration lawyer?”

“...yes…”

“And that’s his one job?”

“Listen,” you say defensively before softening your tone, “It’s more complicated than it sounds okay? There’s a lot of dimensions to it that you just don’t get.” 

“Okay, heard,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.” “No, no, you didn’t…It’s okay.” 

“Okay.” 

A long moment passes between you before you speak again,

“So this taste testing thing…Are you gonna like, feed me weird zest foam or like a spinach goo or something?”

“Well first of all, I’m offended,” he laughs, and goes on, “And second off, what the fuck is a ‘zest foam’ or a ‘spinach goo’?” 

“I don’t know! I’m just wondering.”

“I’m gonna feed you carbohydrates and love, don’t insult me.” 

You try to not let your expression betray how that statement makes you feel. 

Luca stretches over you, grabbing your empty container.

“Alright, you’ve helped, you’ve eaten, and now I’m kicking you out.”

You grin at him, getting off of your stool, “You wish.”

You’re both walking towards the door when he says your name, softly, and you turn around to face him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

His eyes flick upwards to look at you, and you find yourself hesitating yet again, not quite sure how you wanted to respond or if you even knew how to, then nod.

“I will be.”

He looks at you, perhaps a second longer than he should have, and you’re quite certain that he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just reaches past you, opening the door. 

“Text me when you get home?” he asks, not quite meeting your eye.

“Yeah. I will.” 

“You promise?”

“Promise.” 

With that you stepped outside into the night, and you didn’t look back until about halfway down the block when something in you told you that you should, and when you do he’s still standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching you go, until you reach the very end of the street and you turn around to see his door just closing. 

-

When you get home the time is 10:15PM. The apartment is still, quiet. You shut the door behind you and start toward the hallway, only to pause when you notice movement on the couch; Carmen, half-asleep, or maybe lost in thought. You hadn’t seen him at first, hadn’t really expected to see him. He usually got home much later than this, and the sight of him catches you off guard.

You take a step towards him and he shifts, turning his head slightly. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gravely and strained from work. 

“Yea,” you respond, a pause stretches out between the two of you, so long that you start to feel awkward about standing, “I didn’t think you’d be home,” you added.

“I left early,” he stops for a moment and then continues on, “Wasn’t feeling very good.”

You nod in response, although he wasn’t looking at you to see it. He runs a hand over his face and he sits up a little straighter. You can see the crease from the couch cushion pressed into his cheek, he must’ve been laying there for a while. 

“Where were you?” he asks, and it’s soft, you can tell that he’s trying to sound like he doesn’t care, like he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be accusatory, like he was thinking of you. You sit down next to him.

“I was helping Luca, with his move.” 

He nods, quietly repeating what you had just said to himself under his breath, processing it. He must’ve just woken up, he drags his hand slowly down his face like he’s trying to shake off the sleep. Another minute passes, like he was waiting for his brain to boot up, and then,

“That’s good,” he said, “That you helped him.”

Your knee is brushing against his, and you feel tethered to him for the first time in a while, like it was proof that you lived here with someone else and that you weren’t living completely separate lives.

“Carm,” you start, looking at him and then down at his hand, you brush it with yours before continuing, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says it like he’s brushing it off, like it’s nothing, you know he’s lying, “Like I said, I just…M’not feeling great, I think I’m just…Tired…” he trails off, and you’re both quiet, he puts his arm around you, and you put your head on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” you respond and you don’t mean for the next words you say to slip out but they do before you can stop them, “Did you know that Luca was moving here?” 

You can feel Carmen go rigid for a moment, his shoulder tensing and then relaxing again.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I did.”

“Carm,” you start softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know, I guess I forgot. I’m sorry I didn’t think it really would matter all that much I guess, it just slipped my mind.”

“Didn’t think-,” you pick your head off his shoulder turning to face him, “Didn’t think it would matter? Carm, he’s my friend…He’s my like, best friend, and he’s your friend and-Why didn’t you think this would matter?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just exhausted, I forgot,” his voice raises a little, defensive, “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

You both fall quiet again, your head finds your way to his shoulder for a third time, and the air feels thin. Fragile. Not angry, just delicate. 

Carmen is the one to break the silence again, and it comes out quietly, like he’s trying not to startle you when he speaks.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,” he says, “Didn’t think you two still talked like that, I guess.”

You lift your head. Not accusatory, but confused, “Like what?”

Carmen shrugs, looking at you, his jaw is tight, and his eyes flick away before you can read them.

You think about following up your question with something else, feeling awkward in the silence filling the room, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” he says his voice flat, “If that’s what you think.”

“Carm, I didn’t think you were.”

He nods, but it’s unconvincing, like he doesn’t really believe you, and something in his facial expression tells you that if you were him, you wouldn’t have either.

You try again.

“It’s not really about Luca.”

He still doesn’t look at you, his shoulder shifts ever so slightly, “Okay.”

“It just would’ve been nice to know.”

He exhales, it’s short and tired, “Yeah.”

There’s something heavy in the air, but you couldn’t name it, it seemed he couldn’t either.

“I’ll tell you next time,” he pauses thinking to himself, the side of his mouth quirking upwards a bit, “Y’know, if there’s ever a next time.” 

It makes you giggle a little, and Carmen smiles at it, at you. 

You nod in response, and you believe him.

The smile fades slowly from his face, but the softness in it never leaves. 

You’re not really sure what to say, a part of you wants to say everything. Everything that you had been feeling, everything that you think he’s been feeling…The other part of you wants you to shutup. 

You can’t think of a way that you could even verbalize everything that you’d been feeling without making it feel worse, for either or both of you. Without risking him withdrawing. You want to tell him simply that you’ve just missed him, that it feels like he’s been far away for a really long time…even when he’s here. That sometimes you go whole days without touching or even speaking, that you notice it, ‘Do you notice it too?’ you thought about asking him, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to have to think about whose fault it might be.

You don’t say another word.

Instead, you press your knee in a little closer to his, and he puts his hand on yours in the small space between you on the couch. His palm is rough, warm, and familiar. 

“You wanna go to bed?” he asks, and it sounds like more of a peace offering than a genuine question. His way of calling it for the night. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

Neither of you moves right away.

Eventually you stand up together at the same time, the lights stay on behind you as you walk down the hallway together, to the bathroom brushing your teeth in silence, and then crawling into bed together.

You sling yourself over him in the bed, and he holds you in return.

But you couldn’t help but wish that you had said more, that he had. That something more had occurred. 

You drift off to sleep together that night. 

-

When you awake the next morning you realize it’s a Monday, and that you have no court hearings today on Zoom or otherwise, no clients, no meetings, that today you don’t have any work which is directly demanding, this makes you smile. When you look to your left you realize that Carmen’s arm is still around you, and that above all, he’s still here. 

You begin to poke Carmen, willing him awake, and he starts to stir.

“Carm…Carm…Carm…” you half-whisper his name as you continue to poke at him.

“Huh?” Carmen opens one eye, looking right at you, “What?”

“Are you like, late or something?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Monday. Closed Mondays.”

“And there’s nothing to be done at the restaurant?”

“I don’t think anyone thought it was a very good idea for me to go back in today, I was uh,” he pauses, yawning, rubbing his eyes, “I got pretty sick last night.” 

“Ah, well, I’m sorry…Are you feeling better this morning?” 

“Yea,” Carm responds, turning to look up at the ceiling, taking his arm out from under you and stretching both his arms above his head, “Yea, I think I am.”

“That’s good.”

“Yea, yea. And you? Do you have anything today? Any lawyer-ing?”

“No, can’t say that I do.”

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Me too.” 

“Yea, I think it’s safe to say we’re both pretty burnt out.” Your heart skipped a beat, it was so small, but, this was the closest he had come to opening up to you at all recently. It felt good. 

You roll over onto your back to stare at the ceiling with him, your fingertips brushing his. 

“Burnt out,” you echo back to him, “Yea, that’s one way to put it,” letting out a light laugh as you said it.

Carmen doesn’t respond back to you right away, but his fingers curl tightly around yours, and for a few moments you just lie there together, the sun peaking through the window blinds casting warmth in little strips over the bed. Eventually you sit up, pushing the sheets off of your legs.

“I’m making coffee,” you say, “You want eggs or something?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you if you want eggs or something.”

“Okay, so ask me then,” you say giggling at the exchange, how long had it been since you had last talked like this? You couldn’t remember, you just knew that you missed it.

“Do you want eggs or something?”

You tap your point finger on your bottom lip, looking up, pretending to think.

“Pancakes,” you both say it in unison.

Your eyes light up as you look at him.

“How’d you know?”

Carmen’s lips twitch into a small smile, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s genuine,

“Because pancakes are the only things that make life bearable.”

You laugh softly and Carmen goes on,

“-And I made pancakes for you that first morning we spent together.” 

That makes you pause, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“That was a long time ago,” you say softly.

He shrugs, sitting up in the bed, playful but exhausted.

“Feels like yesterday.”

You grin as you watch him work. You love seeing him like this. Not stressed, pulling his hair out, in some fancy restaurant, calling out orders, but in his element. Calm, at work, just doing something that he loves without it demanding anything back from him. 

He moves with ease around the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a certain suaveness to him that made him look incredibly cool, in your opinion.

“Wow, Carm, you’re really showing off right now, huh?”

“At what? Flipping pancakes?”

“Mhm, it’s hot.” 

“Jesus,” he mutters, grinning, “Well, I’m glad you like it because it’s basically the only thing I can do.”

You shake your head at him,

“Nuh-uh, I saw you make eggs a few weeks ago.”

“Well- yes and that.”

“And,” you go on, “You made me a mean grilled cheese the other week. You’re really good.”

He grins at you, still looking down, focusing on the pancake flipping.

“Yea well..I’m glad you think so, because if I wasn’t, I’d be committing some serious fraud.” 

It makes you both laugh, and for once things feel normal. Like they’re stable, like there were no problems at all. 

The moment lingers, and the air smells sweet and a bit like melted butter, you rest your chin on your palm, continuing to watch him, wondering how much longer things could go on like this.

“I’ve got court this week,” you say after a moment, keeping your tone light,

Carmen glances over at you, “Like court-court?”

“Zoom court,” you clarify for him, “But yes, big one. Wednesday morning. I’ve been preparing for like weeks, honestly, just kinda excited for it to be over.”

He nods, thoughtful, and he flips the last pancake onto a stack. “Anything I can do?”

“Just- don’t be too rowdy in here,” you joke, “No big house parties.”

Carmen laughs through his nose, “Heard counselor, no noise. I’ll cancel the huge blow out I had planned, but it is a shame, I’ll need to reach out to all 300 people now to tell them not to come.” 

He picks up two plates, swinging around to your side of the counter, kissing you on the head in the process, he places them down with exaggerated flourish. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“I’m joking of course, I’ll probably be at the restaurant at that point.”

“Right,” you say nodding and looking down at your small stack, “What, no parsley garnish?”

“Jesus,” he mutters again, pulling out the stool to sit beside you, but he’s smiling and there’s a light blush playing along his cheeks.

And for that moment. Things felt alright. 

That night the two of you sat curled up on the couch next to one another, laundry piled around you. Carmen was flipping through a sketchbook, thinking about new dishes, reviewing old ones, you were typing away on your laptop, writing up some papers. Your eyes drifted upwards to stare at the pile of Carmen’s t-shirts.

“Weren’t we doing something?”

“Hm?” Carmen responds, pencil in his mouth,

“Weren’t we like folding the laundry?”

“Oh-oh yea,” Carmen puts his sketchbook on the table, sticks the pencil behind his ear, “How did we even get sidetracked?” 

“To be honest with you, I don’t remember.”

He shrugs at you, “Restaurant brain.”

You nod in response, you want to laugh at his joke, but honestly you had heard it as an excuse so many times at this point that you don’t think you could find it funny if you tried, but you keep a neutral smile on your face, careful not to tune Carmen into this in fear of making him feel too bad. Motioning to the pile of t-shirts in front of you-

“Jeez Carm, how many white shirts do you have?” 

He starts to answer you, but gets cut off by a light buzzing noise as the lights flickered off for a moment and then back on. Carmen draws his gaze back to you from the ceiling.

“Old wiring,” he gives you a half shrug, “Old building, it used to do it a lot more before you moved in…I think the apartment likes you better or something.”

He gives you a smile as he begins to tackle folding a pile of laundry.

By Tuesday morning, the apartment smelled like Dawn dish soap and a light smell of garlic leftover from last night’s dinner. Carmen was in the kitchen, washing dishes, some light music could be heard coming out of his headphones, knowing him he probably had them turned up all the way. 

There was something very comforting about this, very ordinary, but in the best way. 

Still a little tired, you sit down at the counter, startling Carmen for a moment, before he shoots you a small smile, and hands you a cup of coffee, which you sip gratefully. 

“Morning,” he says, flipping one headphone half off his ear, he looked as if he had been up for a while, hair messy and slightly damp from a shower, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, suds scattered about his forearms. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you say motioning towards the sink and then the stack of clean dishes piled neatly on the rack.

“I wanted to,” he says it simply, like there was nothing else in the world that would have made more sense to him than this, “I figured that especially with your hearing tomorrow, you just really shouldn’t have to worry about shit like the dishes.” 

“Thank you,” you smile at him warmly, “Wait- what about the restaurant, are you-”

“Chill, I’m going in a few hours, they’ll live without me for a bit.” 

“Oh, okay.”

After finishing the dishes, Carmen sits down on the couch, his phone in one hand, computer on the table, and a giant stack of mail splayed out next to it. You watch him quietly from over your laptop screen, as he pulls out a crumpled envelope, flipping it open, he holds up a bill, squinting at the details.

He glances over to his phone screen in his other hand, quickly clicking on something, checking something, online, letting out a faint sigh.

“Water bill’s all good now too,” you hear him mutter to himself from across the room, he stuffs a bunch of papers back into a larger envelope and then sets it down, the stove timer going off. 

You glance back down at your laptop, the quiet hum of the apartment and muted drone of the world outside filling the air, the weight on your chest feels like it’s been lifted, even if just a little. Carmen’s calm and suddenly steady presence, the way he was handling things without it being too complicated, it was all very grounding. 

He reaches over towards you and flicks on the small kitchen lamp, the warm glow lighting up his face, and you look up again, catching him watching you with a faint smile, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. Like he feels it too. 

“I got it,” he says to you, meeting your eyes, “Everything.” 

You nod, your words caught somewhere between relief and gratitude.

The timer behind him goes off and he jumps, and he heads back to the oven.

There’s no tension, no unfinished business hanging in the air. Just a quiet, steady, pulse of the two of you moving through life together.

It was a good two days, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t trust it.

After all, two good days didn’t erase a year of being overlooked.

Carmen had long since left for work when you heard your text tone go off, pulling your eyes away from the array of documents that you had scattered across your table, you picked up your phone and opened up your messages.

LUCA

‘hey i just got all my kitchen shit in and i took a trip to some expensive ass market, u down to come over tmrw night?’

You smile at the text fondly, responding back.

‘i’ll be there,’ you type out before playfully adding, ‘better be good,’ and pressing send.

You get another message back almost immediately.

‘or else?’

‘don’t be a smartass’ 

‘heard’

You laughed to yourself, starting to return back to your work but then your phone goes off again.

‘r u doing ok btw’

It makes you pause.

‘im’ You start to type out a response but if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how you were, you settle on-

‘im doing alright def scared tho’

‘scared?’

‘big case tmrw’

‘how big we talkin’

‘like huge very high stakes’

‘how huge’

‘omg stfu’

‘srry’ A pause before another text message from him came through,

‘ur the best lawyer out there u cant lose’

You clicked your phone off, grinning.

-

Wednesday morning started out unkind. When you woke up, Carmen was already gone, but that wasn’t the unfortunate part. The unfortunate part came after you had finished getting ready, put on your ‘courtroom’ suit, and walked into the kitchen, only to immediately feel a wet squish through your socks. You bent your knee and lifted your foot up to look at the bottom.

“Ew,” you said softly to yourself, your eyes dropping to a small sticky puddle on the floor. Carmen must’ve spilled coffee and had forgotten to clean it up before leaving. It was such a small thing, but maybe that was the point. A small thing, and yet it was still there. A small mess, lingering anyway.

Peeling off your socks, you grabbed paper towels to clean up the spill. Then you noticed it, sitting on the kitchen counter, the same envelope from the day before. Smudged with greasy fingerprints, probably from where Carmen had absentmindedly set down a plate or a pan at some point before picking it up again.

You remembered him mentioning the water bill being all sorted or something to that effect the day before, but you now realized that he hadn't actually sent it. Not yet. 

It was all too familiar. This quiet letting down. 

You sighed softly but resolved to handle it yourself after your meeting, you really couldn’t afford to have your mind on anything else right now. 

Just as you were settling into your morning routine, with thirty minutes left before your Zoom court hearing, you were sitting at the counter flipping through your client’s files, getting your arguments in order, then your phone buzzed against the marble surface of the kitchen counter. Glancing down, you were met with a message from Luca-

‘look outside’

Curious, you opened the door to your apartment. There, waiting on your doorstep, was a neatly packed breakfast, a croissant, somehow still warm, a small container of fruit, and a note stuck on top of it in Luca’s familiar handwriting: 

Good luck today. And tell Carmen that Luca says to do more than just the electric bill.

You chuckled softly to yourself, the small gesture easing some of the tension building inside of your chest. For a moment, the day felt a little less daunting. But then your smile faltered, the hard truth of it all settling in: In one week, Luca had shown up for you more than Carmen had in a whole year.

You tuck the note into your backpocket, your mind haunted by thoughts of comparison that you hadn’t meant to have but couldn’t quite shake. Luca. Carmen. You tried not to go there.

You flipped your phone over in your hand, checking the clock on it. Almost time. You took a long, deep breath, closing the door behind you, and headed back inside to set up your laptop for the hearing.

Your phone vibrates on the desk, clicking it open you see a message from your client where you had been secretly hoping to see a message from Carmen, you shoot them a text back, reassuring them that today was going to be just fine, also reassuring yourself in the process. 

You line your papers up. Your notes. All of the necessary documents to defend your client today. You feel your stomach flip as you try to hype yourself up, rehearsing your opening statement just under your breath. 

The Zoom opens, the screen lighting up. The familiar ping of incoming Zoom participants. The screen begins to fill with familiar faces, colleagues, the judge, your client’s name blinking in the corner as they join the call. 

You double-check your notes again, just once more in your head.

The apartment is still and quiet.

You’re mid-sentence and about half-way through the hearing when it happens. 

No flicker of the screen, no warning, just frozen. Completely still.

Everyone’s face vanishes in a blink.

The little red “No internet,” icon flashes up in the corner of your computer screen, and your stomach drops so fast that it knocks the air out of you. 

It must be a mistake. You wait one second, two…Nothing.

You stand up in an instant, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest, you rush toward the router like that actually ever does anything.

The router is dark, and that’s when you realize that everything was dark. No lights.

The lamp beside it, off. 

You paused and listened, expecting to hear the humming of the fridge, but instead, silence.

The power was out. Entirely.

You spin back towards your desk, already pulling your phone out of your pocket, opening your settings, you try to open up a hotspot.

Nothing.

You toggle it on and off again, still nothing.

“No Service.”

The apartment’s oddly thick concrete walls had always been an issue.

You had once joked with Carmy that it was built like a bunker, that you’d be safe in an apocalypse. It was insulated as fuck, and nearly impossible to get a signal through. 

Suddenly, this was all a lot less funny to you.

You held your phone up towards the window, still nothing. You lowered your phone slowly, your hands were shaking so hard you thought you might drop it, you could hear blood rushing in your ears.

No Wi-Fi.

No service.

No power.

Staring out the window blankly, unsure of what to do, trying to grapple with how unfortunate the timing of this power-outage was, that’s when you noticed it.

Across the street.

The bodega’s neon “OPEN” sign, still glowing.

The laundromat that was two doors down from it, lights on, machines still spinning. 

Even the traffic light at the corner was ticking normally, green to yellow to red, and back to green.

You press your head against the window, waiting for an explanation to just appear, but it doesn’t. It just confirms what you already know, but don’t want to admit.

The power isn’t out.

Not in the city.

Not on the block.

Not even in your apartment building.

Just here. Just in your unit.

It clicks.

Carmen hadn’t paid the electric bill.

Not because he couldn’t. But because he hadn’t thought.

Because he hadn’t remembered to. 

And it wasn’t just the power.

It was your work. Your case. Your client. Your trust. 

Your mouth went completely dry, your tongue sticking to your teeth, you’re not just standing in the dark…You had been left in it.

You don’t really remember changing out of your clothes and into new ones, or grabbing your keys, or opening up your phone to turn on the ‘do not disturb’ mode. 

But the next thing you know, you’re standing outside of Luca’s door.

[bug-hearted]

“Oh, my God!” Solace hissed, jumping, wings rustling against the bushes. There were dark, round, doe-like eyes glaring at him. There were not supposed to be dark, round, doe-like eyes glaring at him.

“No,” Doe-eyes said. “Just an angel.” A smirk.

Ah. That made sense. Said creature had the brightest wings, a blinding ivory against the dark shadows in these bushes. When the light hit them just right through the leaves, they shined almost pearl-like. Incandescent.

Except that smirk.

That was— charged. There was something curled behind it, something cold and almost dark that Solace never would have seen on an angel.

Breathtaking.

“What, never seen an angel before?” Doe-eyes said. It was then that Solace realized he’d been staring. Quite shamelessly.

Because how could he not?

Solace scoffed. “Um, no,” he drawled defensively. “I’ve been… around.”

Doe-eyes’ gaze bore into him. He felt like he was being studied. Examined. Picked apart, like a carcass about to be skinned to bone.

Doe-eyes was… staring, too, Solace realized now. Not that he knew how to feel about that.

He looked scrutinizing—like Solace was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. He began to squirm under the attention, heart hammering against his chest.

This was an angel, for God’s sake! Solace couldn’t afford getting distracted! Not when he had—

“Are you just going to creep around in these bushes? Because I’ve got a job I need to do.”

Doe-eyes rolled his eyes. “By all means, demon,” he said, and there it was again! That stupid smirk playing on his lips, casual and light as if the word demon didn’t almost make Solace flinch. “Although, it does seem to me you were creeping around these bushes first.”

“Whatever,” Solace huffed. “I’m going now.”

“Again,” Doe-eyes huffed to mimic him, “by all means.”

Solace began to lift himself up to his legs, turning his gaze to the Garden. He had a job, and a plan—a good one, at that. It would be a shame if someone thwarted it.

Huh.

Solace turned back to Doe-eyes, still just sitting there, brows furrowing in confusion. “Aren’t you meant to, like, thwart me?”

Doe-eyes raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” And? his face asked.

Solace dragged a hand down his face. This angel was impossible. He didn’t realize it was even… well, possible, for an angel to be difficult. “Why aren’t you thwarting me?”

Unimpressed, Doe-eyes’ mouth opened to answer, then closed again. Then, after a half-second of hesitation, a wide, sly grin sprawled across his cheeks.

“Much more entertaining watching you try to hype yourself up for whatever you’re about to do.”

“What does that mean?” Solace asked, when what he really thought was Heavens above, the Angel has dimples.

“That means you’ve been here for days, stalking the humans, all nervous and bumbling like an idiot who doesn’t actually want to do what he says he’s here to do,” Doe-eyes said, self-satisfied.

“Well! I! Want to, but the timing is just—”

“You haven’t actually given me anything to thwart, you know?” Doe-eyes said, pressing the back of his hand to his lips as if curtly muffling a laugh. Infuriating. Utterly so.

“What—!” Solace huffed. “I’ll! Show you!”

“I’m sure you will.”

Oh, this angel was very irritating. Solace would show him! He could be evil! He could be the demon he was supposed to be! He could do this—could do his job and not get his friends demoted in the process.

Solace shivered. He did not need his friends getting demoted. He knew what jobs were given to the lower-class demons. Paperwork.

He very pointedly ignored the voice in his mind screaming good luck pulling yourself together enough to focus, instead giving Doe-eyes a grunt and a death glare (which didn’t work, only serving to make Doe-eyes’ smirk more smug).

Solace decided, then, that he rather disliked angels—no, no, just this specific one.

[citrinesparkles]

lifting the bones

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,029 words. notes: pre-relationship. reader is on the social side. title taken from infinite baths by sleep token. part one. warnings: n/a

jason's spent a lot of time in the dark.

he's not as bad as bruce. he'll never be as bad as bruce. that guy needs serious help, and jason is not that. jason has a life.

jason is just... a little nocturnal. that's all.

and okay, maybe it's been too much time in the dark. maybe.

but it's where he can do the most good. he's more effective in the shadows. plus, y'know, gotham.

everybody knows what they say about gotham's nightlife. it's when the scumbags come out to play.

but as a result, this- bright and warm and vivid, sweet and vibrant and you- this is almost blinding.

it's cliché. he knows that. he knows that to his bones, and there's a part of him that would very much like to be snarky or run away or do anything other than watch you right now, but he just can't bring himself to stop.

you're gorgeous.

more importantly, you're cracking jokes and mingling and making people smile. sun on your cheeks and a notebook in your hand and a clever grin on your face as you check on people and scribble notes and keep everyone on track.

you've got your best traits right on display, right where he can't ignore them. right out in the open. everything that's convinced him to allow himself the brief conversations you have in the corner store. the wit and sweetness and charm that made him take you up on an offer to exchange numbers so you could send him a stupid recipe.

and he's maybe in a little deeper than he's been willing to admit.

he knew it, sure. knew your smile was going to be dangerous and knew volunteering to help you with your passion projects was damning himself and that this would all be a very bad idea.

but knowing and feeling are different things.

he's always been good at knowing.

this is feeling it. feeling your laugh like it's right next to him instead of across this stupid chunk of park. feeling it in his chest, right where he should not be feeling things.

...shit.

shit, shit, shit.

and then you turn your head to look right at him, and he feels that too.

and when you call his name and ask him to help move tables around, he actually moves forward and does it.

--

it doesn't get any better, by the way.

no, because a few hours later, your event is winding down in the golden rays of end-of-day, which means you look like magic.

and the event went well, so you're beaming.

you look happy and exhausted and satisfied with a job well done, packing up decorations while he folds tables back up and tries to ignore how much of that warmth he can feel radiating off of you.

tries. fails.

super fails, because you walk over with a bottle of water and a grateful smile on your face and you slide into place beside him easily enough that it almost tricks him into thinking this is sustainable.

"careful," you pipe up as he takes a sip, playful and making his survival instincts beg him to just leave already. "the little old ladies already want to sign you up for the next one of these."

"little old ladies love me. i can't help it."

you laugh, because of course you do- because you two speak the same stupid little language, and you laugh at his stupid jokes, and he keeps making them because he himself is stupid.

"seriously, though," you say after a beat, shifting a little and staring out over the last few people gathered. "you were a really big help today. we owe you one. i owe you one."

he should dismiss that. dodge it or something. you don't owe him shit. and debts, even stupid ones like helping you move some boxes and cases of water around, tie people together.

and for all the two of you have in common, for as well as you mesh, as much as you click and having you around makes everything feel a little easier, you live in very different worlds. you shouldn't be tied to his.

"let me get you dinner?"

he would love to say he's unaffected by that offer.

he should be unaffected.

but he's not. no, his heart stutters like the little traitor it is, and his mind unhelpfully supplies what dinner with you could look like, and "dunno, i have expensive tastes." is falling from his lips in a vain attempt to joke his way out.

which means you huff another laugh. another dangerous laugh that makes him feel a little like the sun leaked into his chest. "how 'bout that pizza place you mentioned? with the gnocchi?"

oh, the place he only found because he got thrown through their window by a ten-foot-tall crocodile? that place? what a beautiful reminder of why he should say no.

"don't your little old ladies need you?" he asks, gesturing the water bottle vaguely across the park to a small pack of women old enough to be great-grandparents.

ignoring the fact that they were definitely looking at the two of you before he gestured. old people are nosy. he can't do anything about that.

and, to be fair, you're young and attractive and sweet. they probably want to make sure he isn't up to no good.

(if he's lucky, they're not hoping he's up to good instead. mediocrity is the goal, here. enough to help you out, not enough to pull you any closer.)

"careful," you tease quietly. "i'll tell them you implied that they're feeble."

"please don't."

this is it. this is where he invents plans he totally has tonight that don't involve running on rooftops or punching people or getting shot at.

this is the part where he nips all of this in the bud before he winds up trying to lead an actual double life, making plans with friends just to cancel because someone needs him to suit up. this is his opportunity to not be a cliché.

"i shouldn't."

oh, really, that's the best i can do?

"i'll buy you tiramisu."

shit.

[kobitoshiningneedle]

??? new PnF episodes spoilers???

Ranking the dreams from The Nightmare-inator (but contrary to the ep's title Doof's new device wasn't making nightmares come true, only regular dreams with verious degree of distubingness)

The Perry one was curious. It's obvious that he's afraid that the boys could be harmed because of his secret identity, but the way it was played out implies that one of the scariest (or at least concerning, something he would rather avoid) things for Perry is to draw too much attention and wreak havoc because of his duels with Doofenshmirtz. And, again, harming the boys in the process (which makes me relize that perhaps Perry at least suspects Doof's inators hit various things in Flynn-Fletcher residence. 7/10

Vanessa's. Yay, finally! Olivia Olson's song! As always, it's a bop! 10/10 for that alone. Also funny how she actually lowkey is afraid of Ducky momo (Candace would be heartbroken if she learns that).

The next one I didn't get - was it Buford ol Baljeet's dream? Or maybe they were sharing this one? Judging by the dream sequence itself it was Buford's. I remember an OG episode about Baljeet getting his brain amplified and kids battling with him, this one was really similar. 6/10, the reality show gag was funny.

Candace's high fantasy thingie. We got a fair share of glimses of Candace's inner world, so it was pretty obvious how things would turn in this particular dream. Dragon Jeremy moment was funny though. Also there's one interesting detail that I probably overthunk - the boys being sucked by the Mysterious Force along with Candace, why? So, she subconciously fears that something might happen because with the boys' shenanigans after all? Candace Against the Universe and some other PnF episodes imply that Candace perceives her brothers not as just kids with annoying and dangerous activities, but people with agency and authonomy. These qualities (along with creativity and many abilities) are something Candace envies which adds to her frustration and desire to bust to satisfy herself. But here (along with Monster from the Id where the boys were potrayed as deers or whatever) Phineas and Ferb don't have that much of authonomy. Hmmm. 8/10, too much food for thought. The Linda was creppy ahaha

Ah, the Ferb one. It's alwas a treat to see the inner world of this enigmatic boy. There's a plenty to analyze (like, why is Vanessa's shoe next the torn up teddy bear and paper towels? Why is there a reference to Pinhead Pierre?) but I've fizzled out because of the previous dream. Maybe next time. 8/10, definitely wanna see what Ferb's nightmares are like

And then we have Isabella's. I admit, I was expecting something Phinabella-related, but this one is much better imo. It was like the Lord of the Firesides episode I'm a fan of. It really is in character for such a goody-two-shoes as Isabella to have fears that if she somehow breaks some rules (like eating a cupcake before than necessary) there will be havoc. Also her fighty personality. 9/10.

Linda's little tidbit was really pitiable, guess from her POV Candace really is stubborn and annoying and she can't relax because of it? Made me feel bad for her, 6/10

Doofenshmirtz's Inception-esque sequence. The song was a bop (two bangers in an episode... nyom), the "there's a platipus controllin me" callback was callbacky as heck. I guess this final act of the episode was made just for lulz and the action, but if we take this overanalyzing approach Doof kinda DOES worry about his inators harming anyone (specifically Perry). It's not exactly a revelation, so I'll stop at "wee funny shenanigans and Perry battles all of these dream concoctions! 7/10"

No Phineas dream, 0/10 :(

[queersyourgender]

well i’m a sucker for angst so maybe mel getting hurt and frankie boy freaking out? ✨ let’s go with the classic lmao 🤣

Slow Down, Keep Up — Melissa King x Frank Landgon

Notes: This turned out more pining than angst, but I hope you like it nonetheless :) Cooked it up super quickly, just for uuuu <3

———

It happens so fast. One moment, she's skipping seversl steps in her haste to follow her senior resident as they move from one patient to the next, the other she's eating shit on the floor, slamming against the tiles so hard that one of the palms of her hands against splits as it meets the ground to catch herself from breaking her nose against the ceramic as she goes down.

Dr. Langdon comically screeches to a halt right before her, whirling around to look at her with wide eyes the second he notices she's no longer behind him, which is actually immediately as she drops. “Shit,” he curses in her stead, because she's too speechless and mortified by the stupidity of the situation to do it herself, and walk backwards to meet her. “You okay, Mel?”

For a moment, the sight of him crouched over her with a hand held out for her take renders her completely and utterly breathless. He looks like a Greek statue or a God or both, reaching for her to help her get back on her feet, her saving grace, her ever-supportive anchor. She could stare up at him like this for hours. Wishes she could.

But then the pain in her hands registers and she's hissing sharply, holding her palm to her chest. Both her and her superior's eyes widen simultaneously at the sight of red tinting her fingertips. “Fuck, Mel, you're bleeding,” Frank says quietly, sounding much too upset for absolutely no reason, as he proceeds to kneel down beside her and take her hand into both of his own. “How bad does it hurt? Does it feel deep?”

Those questions reach her in a completely different context than intended, and she has to physically shake herself out of her stupor so that she can blink out of her daydreams and actually answer. “No, it's okay,” she reassures him shyly, still a little embarrassed over seemingly tripping over thin air as Frank moves up to stand and pulls her with him. “Really, it's okay, Dr. Langdon. Just a scratch.”

Frank's eyes are soft and worried as they look at her, and he inclines his head in that stupidly charming way he always does. “Humor me,” he tells her, gently tugging her behind one of the empty curtains and grabbing some supplies to clean her cut for her. It's ridiculous, it's quite literally just a scratch, but he sounds so saddened by it that she can't help but let him do what he wants.

His eyes are on her hand as he cleans the blood away with the sanitized wipe, but her eyes are on him. He's so focused on the task you'd almost think he's doing sutures, but he's not. He's just… carefully and delicately wiping away at her palm, cleaning the cut and surveying it closely to see what else it needs before bandaging.

When he's satisfied, he begins to wrap it gently, and Mel is still unable to look anywhere but at him. “I'm sorry for moving so fast,” he murmurs needlessly, and as Mel's confused noise, looks at her with so much guilt she feels the breath get knocked out of her lungs. “You wouldn't have fallen if I'd just slowed down a little bit.”

Immediately, Mel's nose wrinkles at that. “You don't need to slow down for me,” she immediately refutes. “I can keep up.”

Frank blinks at her for a moment, before his gaze turns heavy as he smiles and tilts his head at her, like he was considering her words a lot more carefully than she'd been when she'd said them. “That you can,” he says, and it's weighty in a way that pools in her gut like a pleasantly warm sauna stone. He pats her hand gently and springs the curtain open. “Let's go, then. See who else needs saving.”

Mel blushes softly and follows after him again.

[yoonzinootsie]

࣪𖤐.ᐟ SEVENTEEN, Your Personal Sunset Photographers

You're at the beach, the sun is setting perfectly, and you've got the pose in mind for that trending sunset photo. Your SEVENTEEN boyfriend, however, is about to learn the true meaning of "just one more shot.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

Scoups

Scoups would start off patiently, "Okay, jagi, got it!" He'd snap a few, then show them to you, genuinely trying to get it right. But as you scroll through, pointing out every tiny flaw ("My hair's flying too much in this one! My arm looks weird here!"), his smile would slowly turn into a more determined grin. "Alright, alright, challenge accepted!" He'd end up taking a hundred photos, determined to get the one that finally makes you gasp, "That's it! You're the best!" Secretly, he'd love the challenge.

Jeonghan

Jeonghan would immediately see this as an opportunity for mischief. He'd pretend to struggle with the camera, intentionally taking blurry photos or shots with his thumb over the lens, just to hear you sigh dramatically. "Oh no, jagi, did I mess it up again? So sorry!" he'd say, barely suppressing a giggle. You'd have to keep a close eye on him, but eventually, he'd snap a truly stunning photo, surprising you with his hidden photography skills, just to be smug about it.

Joshua

Joshua would be incredibly sweet and earnest about it. He'd listen intently to your instructions, "Okay, a little lower? Got it. Now lean back slightly? Perfect." He'd take his time, making sure each shot was well-framed and in focus. He'd probably zoom in on your face and gush, "You look so beautiful, jagi," making you blush. Even after ten similar shots, he'd just patiently ask, "Another one? Whatever you need." He's your ultimate photo-taking partner.

Jun

Jun would make it into a dramatic art project. He'd probably insist on finding the "perfect" angle, walking around with the phone held high, low, sideways, narrating his process. "The light... the angle... the feeling!" he'd declare, often getting distracted by the actual sunset and forgetting to take the picture. You'd have to constantly remind him, "Jun, the photo! Just take the photo!" He'd eventually get a gorgeous shot, but it'd be through sheer accidental genius.

Hoshi

Hoshi would be full of energy and experimental poses for you. "Jagi, try jumping! Or what if you look wistfully into the distance? Or do the tiger's gaze!" He'd be bouncing around, offering a million suggestions, making you laugh. He'd snap photos rapidly, probably getting more candid shots of you cracking up than perfectly posed ones. You'd both end up exhausted, but with a camera roll full of hilarious memories and, eventually, that one perfect shot you wanted.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo would probably sigh first, a very quiet, almost inaudible sigh, but then he'd take the phone. He'd hold it steady, focusing intently. He wouldn't offer much commentary, just the click of the shutter. You'd have to prompt him for feedback ("How's this one look?"), and he'd just shrug and say, "Looks fine." But when you finally pick one you love, he'd subtly crack a small, satisfied smile. He's efficient, if not overly enthusiastic.

Woozi

Woozi would be the most difficult to convince. "You want me to take another one? What's wrong with the last one?" he'd grumble. You'd have to bribe him, probably with promises of quiet time later. When he finally relents, he'd snap about three quick pictures and hand the phone back, muttering, "That's good enough." You'd probably have to wrestle the phone back from him for more attempts, but if by some miracle you do get a perfect one from him, it's a treasure.

DK

DK would be beaming with enthusiasm! "Yes, jagi! Let's get this perfect picture! What do you want me to do? Tell me all the angles!" He'd crouch, stand, jump, doing whatever it takes to get the shot. He'd cheer you on with every click, "Beautiful! Amazing! Wow, you're stunning!" He might even get emotional about the beauty of the moment. You'd end up with hundreds of photos and a very happy, encouraging photographer.

Mingyu

Mingyu would be the ultimate patient boyfriend. He'd hold the phone steady, frame you perfectly, and instantly understand your vision. "Like this, jagi? A little more to the left?" He'd probably take a dozen photos, subtly adjusting based on the light and your pose, anticipating what you want. He'd keep reassuring you, "You look great, don't worry," and wouldn't stop until you were completely satisfied. He'd even edit it for you if you asked.

The8

The8 would treat it like a serious photography session. He'd analyze the light, the composition, the background. "Hmm, perhaps if you turn slightly more towards the sun, the silhouette will be stronger," he'd muse. He'd move slowly and deliberately, guiding you into the perfect artistic pose. He might not take a ton of photos, but the ones he does take would be incredibly aesthetic and magazine-worthy.

Seungkwan

Seungkwan would be very vocal throughout the process. "Oh, the light is hitting you perfectly now! Wait, but is your chin too high? Let me see!" He'd be your personal director, giving you precise instructions and constant feedback, sometimes over-analyzing everything. He'd probably take a break to show you a funny selfie he just took of himself. You'd get a mix of perfect shots, funny commentary, and probably a few unexpected photo bombs.

Vernon

Vernon would be chill about it. He'd take the phone, casually snap a few, and then show you. When you say, "No, not quite," he'd just shrug, "Okay, again." He wouldn't get flustered, wouldn't offer much in terms of direction, but he'd keep pressing the shutter button until you finally declared it "the one." His deadpan delivery might make you laugh, but he'd always deliver on the photo eventually.

Dino

Dino would be eager to prove himself. "Okay, jagi! I've got this! Tell me what you need!" He'd try various angles, crouching low, reaching high, genuinely trying his best to capture your vision. He'd be full of energy and enthusiasm, constantly checking in, "Is this good? Did I get it?" He'd be happy to take as many as it takes until you're absolutely thrilled with the result, proud to be your personal photographer.

[rorose19]

Day 5; sleepover:

Amy snuggled close to Sonic as the ending credits rolled in, her head lolling on his shoulder as she struggled to keep herself awake.

Today was one of those days where they would relax and watch a movie, a rom-com perhaps, to cease their worries and bask in the other’s company. Amy would set up many delicious snacks and Sonic would come over with blankets and pillows to keep them comfy, even though Amy would already have set that up for them. 

“Well, that was fun,” Sonic said as he closed the tv with the remote. “The ending wasn’t what I expected but hey! I won’t say it's bad.” He turned his head to face Amy, immediately noticing the way her eyes fluttered softly, as if a heavy force was pushing it down.

“Huh?” Amy opened one eye. She sat up and stretched her tired limbs, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, that ending was…good. What—she yawned—what time is it?”

Sonic’s eyes softened. He put a hand on her back to keep her steady. “It’s-uh eleven.” 

She chuckled lightly. “Well, that must be the longest I stayed up.”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.” He grinned at her incredulous stare and stood up. “Well, I better get goin’. Don’t wanna keep you up.” He brushed her bangs away from her face and planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

Before he could turn around, Amy grabbed his arm gently. 

“Wait,” she said softly, a ting of drowsiness lingering in her voice. Her emerald eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting the moon’s light. “Can you stay? Just for the night?”

Sonic’s heart skipped a beat. His cheeks heating up under the weight of Amy’s gaze. The warmth of her hand seeped through his skin and settled in his bones with ease. He turned away abruptly, feeling embarrassed. Why? He didn’t know. He was never good at figuring out his feelings.

He had never spent a night at Amy’s before. Sure, he’d hang around her place, but they had agreed that he’d come and go whenever he pleased. And besides, it wasn’t like he lived there anyway. Though he did keep leaving stuff over there; a habit that he shouldn’t be accustomed to.

Should he refuse? But it didn’t seem like a bad idea, and Amy never asked for much. If he said no right there, she wouldn’t push. She wouldn’t say anything at all. She would respect his boundaries, no matter how disappointed she was.

But seeing those hopeful eyes looking into his own…how could he say no?

So he simply smiled and cupped her cheek. “Why not?” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice calm. “It’s not like I have plans or anything.”

And seeing Amy’s smile…chaos, that adorable smile that seemed too huge for her face. Not even the stars were as captivating as her.

Amy put a hand up to rest on his, her eyes lit with adoration, a gentle light that could never fade amidst the darkness.

—

There was something so intimate about witnessing your partners nightly routine. Watching Amy cleanse her face with skincare and brush her teeth and doing all the mundane tasks one usually does felt so satisfying to watch. It was as if he had a glimpse in Amy’s life, as if he were exploring all the quiet parts of her that he hadn’t seen before. The closeness between them only grew, and it was because of that willingness to reveal the those parts of them that their bond had grown into something stronger.

Sure, it didn’t seem that big of a deal, but when you were spending time with the person you loved the most, every moment counted.

As they crawled into bed, Sonic realized that he was actually excited for this. His heart swelled at the sight of Amy lying next to him. He was lost in her, lost in their timeless romance. Just seeing her looking at him with those eyes…it had kindled his untamable soul. It made him forget about where he was and who he was. 

All that mattered was her and her alone.

“So-uh, this is what you do every night, huh?” He flashed a goofy grin, his head propped up lazily by his arm.

Amy giggled, pure and sweet like an angel’s melody. “Mmmaybe…but without the you part.”

Sonic chuckled at that. “I should start staying here more often then. I’d love to see more of that skincare.”

Amy scoffed and punched his shoulder lightly. His smile softened into something more tender. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. The warmth of her embrace enveloping him felt like a comforting blanket shielding him from the cold, and Sonic had never felt so loved. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and ran his hand through her quills with gentle, rhythmic strokes, evoking a soft sigh from her. 

“You know, I like this,” Amy said, rubbing soft circles on his back, a soft, giddy smile lingering on her lips. “It’s like—it feels so relaxing. We don’t have to struggle through dates fighting robots and we can just enjoy each other’s company. Like we don’t have to worry about anything but us. You know what I mean?”

Sonic smiled. “Yeah. This feels nice.”

Amy smiled against his chest and closed her eyes. Soon, sleep began to take over. Her breathing began to even out and her heartbeat became more calmer...more contented. 

Sonic brushed a final kiss against her temple and closed his eyes, thanking Gaia that he was where he was now. With his friends. With her.

They started to dream the most fondest of dreams and when they wake up, they would feel the sunshine on their face, pulsing through their veins and blossoming in their chest with a familiar warmth. They would wake up with the other at their side, and that is then when they will realize what it means to feel peace, unspoken yet tranquil, like two hearts intertwined in the silence.

Love was a curious phenomenon, but when it came to Sonic and Amy, it was something beautiful and exquisite and so profoundly wonderful. 

[devilsnoryu]

Fubuki

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 12: Beware the Grapes of Wrath.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[chloegraceartist]

Shane, my beloved 💕

I almost missed Shane’s birthday! So here’s a piece I doodled back in February.

I wish I could give him all the hugs and homemade pizza in the world. 🥺

[mintypsii]

mini sanusos 🤫🤫

[lillyosaurus]

UNSTOPPABLE FORCE.

I like Ultrakill a normal amount guys.. trust me..

[unsung-idiot]

quick drawing of Curly

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know I kind of feel like when Megatron killed Tarn and said 'I want you to spend your final moments thinking of this: that everything you've done has been for nothing' he was kind of self-projecting onto Tarn? Mainly because at Megatron's statue, M and T had a conversation where Tarn explicitly asked if all the Decepticons in service to Megatron died for nothing, if HE did everything he did for nothing. (And I think M even gave an answer along the lines of 'idk I think we basically did'). And then after Megatron killed the DJD and Rodimus teleported in to rescue him, there was that silent moment where Megatron just stared at Rodimus not moving at all before he finally took his hand at the last moment.

It honestly feels to me like for a while, Megatron fully intended to murder-suicide himself. Murder the DJD, his monsters and his creation, and then take himself out alongside them, because he is also a monster. Because he also feels that everything he's ever done has been for nothing.

Goddamn it's no wonder I liked that scene so much LMAO, as someone who thinks villain Megatron > Autobot Megatron, literally one of his key traits is that Megatron basically took his pain/trauma/worldview and used it to lash out at the universe and try to subjugate it to his vision. So the fact that he took his own pain and brutally murdered the DJD while telling them the very same thing that puts him through so much agony is so very deliciously ironic. And a return, however brief, to the Megatron characterization that I know and love.

[felisgalactus]

THE AGE OF THE STARS HAS ENDED!!! NO MORE FALSE PROPHETS!!! FOLLOW ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN BE DECEIVED!!! RISE UUUUUPPP!!!!!

So I realized that Hollyleaf and D-16/Megatron have really similar character arcs, that being, “My entire life of being a good law-abiding citizen is a lie and I need to kill someone about it” so I made a whole AU about it where I shove the events of Warriors into the plot of the movie while doubling as a villain Hollyleaf au.

Some train-of-thought-ish notes under the cut:

Ashfur takes the place of Sentinel, and yes, he does get ripped in half. Hence the blood. Hollyleaf is holding Ashfur’s heart instead of a cog. Doesn’t really have the same significance as in the movie, but it looks cool so it stays. I guess this au would combine the events of the Broken Code with Power of Three, where Ashfur is already a literal tyrant. Although I’m not sure what exactly his motivations are here or how Squirrelflight plays into them. He’s probably more motivated by power here rather than just wanting his ex to take him back. Maybe it started with him wanting Bramble out of the way, but Squirrelflight was disgusted with him so he got rid of her too, and he was just like, “well i mean I’ve already killed two people, might as well just keep going and take over the clans!”

The Decepticon logo in the au is a stylization of Bramblestar’s face. He takes the place of Megatronus Prime as who Hollyleaf reveres, and subsequently turns into a symbol of a terrorist group. He’s not exactly thrilled about that. I choose him because of his history of morally gray depictions, but mostly because of how much of a daddy’s girl Holly is. It kinda adds an extra personal layer to it all, which is a nice touch. I imagine instead of a decal Holly gets a pendant or a bracelet with a wood carving or sticks tied together or something. Ashfur definitely killed him, and probably when the three were kits, explaining why they don’t have many memories of him.

The rest of the three would take the place of the other protagonists. Dovewing is obviously Bumblebee (really ironic considering her ex) ‘cause she’s round, cute, and kinda annoying, all you really need. Jayfeather I think would be Elita, ‘cause he’s grumpy but has a good head on his shoulders and is capable of being kinder than someone might expect at first glance. That leaves Lionblaze as Orion/Optimus, which really wouldn’t be my first choice for that role? I guess they do have similar traits of “I-am-very-strong-and-am-surrounded-by-people-much-more-delicate-than-me”, but Lionblaze is a bit too enthusiastic about fighting to make it an easy fit. Idk maybe he undergoes character development and loses his taste for battle. Or maybe he’s more of a “give-me-your-face” kind of Optimus. I can see him being voiced by Chris Hemsworth tho so that’s a plus.

Also I don’t know who Ivypool is. I’m still pretty new to Transformers so I can’t really think of a good Character analog for her.

Don’t ask me how the Leafpool and Crowfeather thing plays into this. This whole thing is the epitome of imaging a cool scene in your head and making a whole story around it.