#New York Style Sandwiches

[magicaltrash]

Disneyland Paris' Disney Village uniquely features sponsorship messaging on the recycling cans - in this case, Coca-Cola. // Disneyland Paris Resort, Disney Village, New York Style Sandwiches, 2023 [Source: CastLife. Used by Permission.]

[coffeenewstom]

Toms Breakfast Club: Pastrami Sandwich New York Style

Über die Entstehung des Sandwich gibt es verschiedene Theorien. Die gängigste Version ist diese: Wahrscheinlich wurde das Sandwich nach John Montagu, 4. Earl of Sandwich, einem britischen Staatsmann und angeblich leidenschaftlichen Kartenspieler benannt, welcher der Überlieferung zufolge nach 1762 während eines stundenlangen Cribbage-Spiels – ein Spiel mit 52 Karten und einem Spielbrett – keine…

[itphobia]

Tasting Chicago Cuisine: HMD Bar & Grill's Unique Twist on Local Favorites

Have you been craving a taste of quintessential Chicago cuisine but want to experience it in a whole new way? Then pull up a seat at HMD Bar & Grill, an unassuming yet gastronomically adventurous spot in the heart of the city that’s putting its own spin on Windy City staples. You’re in for a treat – and maybe a surprise or two. From their deep-dish pizza topped with ingredients you never knew you…

[atlastv]

"Authentic New York Bacon Egg and Cheese At Home"

[froody]

in my hometown, which has a population around 1,000 people, there is only one restaurant that has managed to stay open for more than 10 years. every once in a while somebody will try to open another restaurant, there was a pretty good breakfast joint in the old general store for about 2 years, a bakery in the old gas station, a Mexican restaurant in the former wig store, these places never stay open. the culinary scene is so abominable in town that we even lost our McDonalds.

but anyway the only restaurant that stays open is the nastiest Italian restaurant in the state. it serves the worst, wettest, soggiest “New York style” pizza. the spaghetti sauce is like red water. the salads are bagged, the cannolis are freezer burnt and not thawed when served. and yet this place does not close and will not close. it is the only place to eat in town. I do not know if it’s a money laundering type thing or what. it’s the quintessential hometown Italian restaurant but nasty and founded, owned and operated by people who have absolutely no Italian heritage or idea of how to make the most simple of Italian American comfort dishes. BUT IT IS THE ONLY PLACE YOU CAN EAT!!!!! my dad has brought strangers home off the interstate to make them sandwiches so they don’t have to be subjected to it

[mariacallous]

American Jewish food is most typically defined as pastrami sandwiches, chocolate babka, or bagels and lox. But I am here to argue that the greatest American Jewish food may actually be the humble hot dog. No dish better embodies the totality of the American Jewish experience.

What’s that you say? You didn’t know that hot dogs were a Jewish food? Well, that’s part of the story, too.

Sausages of many varieties have existed since antiquity. The closest relatives of the hot dog are the frankfurter and the wiener, both American terms based on their cities of origin (Frankfurt and Vienna respectively). So what differentiates a hot dog from other sausages? The story begins in 19th century New York, with two German-Jewish immigrants.

In 1870, Charles Feltman sold Frankfurt-style pork-and-beef sausages out of a pushcart in Coney Island, Brooklyn. Sausages not being the neatest street food, Feltman inserted them into soft buns. This innovative sausage/bun combo grew to be known as a hot dog (though Feltman called them Coney Island Red Hots).

Two years later, Isaac Gellis opened a kosher butcher shop on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. He soon began selling all-beef versions of German-style sausages. Beef hot dogs grew into an all-purpose replacement for pork products in kosher homes, leading to such classic dishes as Franks & Beans or split pea soup with hot dogs. Though unknown whether Gellis was the originator of this important shift, he certainly became one of the most successful purveyors.

Like American Jews, the hot dog was an immigrant itself that quickly changed and adapted to life in the U.S. As American Jewry further integrated into society, the hot dog followed.

In 1916, Polish-Jewish immigrant Nathan Handwerker opened a hotdog stand to compete with Charles Feltman, his former employer. Feltman’s had grown into a large sit-down restaurant, and Handwerker charged half the price by making his eatery a “grab joint.” (The term fast food hadn’t yet been invented, but it was arguably Handwerker who created that ultra-American culinary institution.)

Nathan’s Famous conquered the hot dog world. Like so many of his American Jewish contemporaries, Handwerker succeeded via entrepreneurship and hard work. His innovative marketing stunts included hiring people to eat his hot dogs while dressed as doctors, overcoming public fears about low-quality ingredients. While his all-beef dogs were not made with kosher meat, he called them “kosher-style,” thus underscoring that they contained no horse meat. Gross.

The “kosher-style” moniker was another American invention. American Jewish history, in part, is the story of a secular populace that embraced Jewish culture while rejecting traditional religious practices. All-beef hotdogs with Ashkenazi-style spicing, yet made from meat that was not traditionally slaughtered or “kosher”, sum up the new Judaism of Handwerker and his contemporaries.

Furthermore, American Jewry came of age alongside the industrial food industry. The hot dog also highlights the explosive growth of the kosher supervision industry (“industrial kashrut”).

Hebrew National began producing hot dogs in 1905. Their production methods met higher standards than were required by law, leading to their famous advertising slogan, “We Answer to a Higher Authority.”

While the majority of Americans may be surprised to hear this, Hebrew National’s self-supervised kosher-ness was not actually accepted by more stringent Orthodox and even Conservative Jews at the time. But non-Jews, believing kosher dogs were inherently better, became the company’s primary market. Eventually, Hebrew National received the more established Triangle-K kashrut supervision, convincing the Conservative Movement to accept their products. Most Orthodox Jews, however, still don’t accept these hot dogs as kosher.

But over the last quarter of the 20th century in America, the Orthodox community has gained prominence and their opinions, and food preferences, hold more weight in the food industry.

The community’s stricter kashrut demands and sizable purchasing power created a viable market, and glatt kosher hot dogs hit the scene. Abeles & Heymann, in business since 1954, was purchased in 1997 by current owner Seth Leavitt. Meeting the demands of the Orthodox community’s increasingly sophisticated palate, their hot dogs are gluten-free with no filler. Recently, they’ve begun producing a line of uncured sausages, and the first glatt hot dogs using collagen casing.

Glatt kosher dogs can now be purchased in nearly thirty different sports arenas and stadiums. American Jews have successfully integrated into their society more than any other in history. So too, the hot dog has transcended its humble New York Jewish immigrant roots to enter the pantheon of true American icons. So when you bite into your hot dog this summer, you are really getting a bite of American Jewish history, and the great American Jewish food.

[thebearer]

just thinking about carmy x shy reader who used to have the biggest crush on him when they went to school!! and carmy thought she liked mikey !

oh my god i can totally see him and now i can only think of two ghosts by harry styles ahhhh. little fluff blurb ahead for the soul <3

they go to prom together, their senior year just as friends. carmy bc donna is making him, and you... bc carmy asked you out lol. mikey set the whole thing up, he knew how much you likes carm. you were always coming over and following carmen around like a lost puppy. mikey felt bad for you, sorta, felt bad that you were so hopelessly in love with his oblivious younger brother.

carmen moved to new york and you stayed in chicago, only to reconnect years later at none other than mikey's funeral. carmen looked bad, sad and distant, but there was a glimmer of his old self when he talked to you. familiar. good.

it was a challenge, pushing yourself into the life of carmen berzatto again. two old friends catching up over coffee, first. then going to a ghost tour, because mikey used to swear it was the most entertaining shit (swore he'd see uncle jimmy on there eventually too lol). you'd help him at the beef when he'd call, helplessly needing assistance fixing some odd appliance. he'd make you greasy italian sandwiches and you'd spilt them sitting at the sticky booths, reminiscing.

it wasn't until weeks later, when things started to take a turn for the best. when carmen realized that "oh shit she's like into me into me???" he'd kissed you that night, in your apartment living room. it was rushed and a little sloppy. he'd blushed so hard after that, stammering and nervous in the low light of the room. you'd only grinned, pulling him back in.

"i- fuck- i didn't want to-to come across like that. i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i... it felt- i don't know, i'm sorry." carmen is a stuttering mess, feeling his heart rate rise and like he might throw up at any given second.

"why are you sorry? i liked it, carmy, c'mon." you just give him a sideways, lopsided grin.

"what? are you- are you fuckin' with me right now? don't... you liked it?"

"of course i liked it. sophomore me is shitting herself right now."

"in a good way?"

you laugh, nodding. "in a very good way. c'mon, bear, don't fuck with me right now." you glare at him playfully. "you don't have to act like you didn't know i was in love with you."

"what?" carmen's eyes bulging tells you otherwise. "you-you... no, you didn't like me. you liked mikey."

"mikey?" you repeat. "carmen... i liked mikey because, i mean he was mikey, everyone liked mikey. but i had a crush on you."

carmen wasn't sure what to say, heart pounding hard in his throat, strangling the words. "really?"

you nodded, grinning gently. "i mean, you were too obsessed with claire bear to notice-"

"-oh, c'mon. don't do that." carmen cringed shaking his head.

"you did!" you laughed, jabbing his chest lightly. "you'd always talk to her in math and sketch all those pictures." you tried not to sound as hurt as your fifteen year old self had been. how you'd cried into your pillow when you found them. how you tried to make yourself look just like claire, act like her too so maybe carmen might notice you.

carmen blushed, looking down at his shoes. "well, i, uh... if it makes you feel any better. i-i was drawin' you too, ya know." he couldn't look at you, blushing positively boyishly at the admission.

it was silly. so silly and so sweet and it shouldn't have made you feel the way you did, but it did. you kissed him, two hands on the side of his cheeks, tumbling back on the sofa with him. a long, overdue kiss.

the next day, carmen asked you to come by the beef, telling you there was something that got dropped off for you while trying to figure out bills.

you opened the envelope to find a faded, crumpled piece of notebook paper, the light etchings of you on it with the algebra homework from mr. weir's junior year class.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty. 

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains. 

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it. 

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave. 

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.” 

But you took the plate anyway. 

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders. 

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?” 

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed. 

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.” 

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.” 

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.  

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night. 

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside. 

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself. 

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich. 

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth. 

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy. 

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.  

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools. 

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray. 

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it. 

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice. 

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.   

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked. 

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too. 

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you. 

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh. 

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that. 

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab. 

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks. 

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together. 

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own. 

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied. 

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade. 

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man. 

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life. 

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you. 

“Then why’d you come out here?” 

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?” 

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you. 

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it. 

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family? 

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out. 

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive. 

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found. 

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.” 

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.” 

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle. 

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa. 

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you. 

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours. 

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself. 

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.  

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked. 

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied. 

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life? 

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.  

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. 

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation. 

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.  

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer. 

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle. 

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him. 

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was. 

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you. 

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater. 

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be. 

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.  

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm. 

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away. 

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open. 

What you found seared your eyes. 

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around. 

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.  

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed. 

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds. 

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face. 

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust. 

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered. 

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door. 

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall. 

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm. 

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.  

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich. 

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today. 

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.” 

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back. 

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him. 

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look. 

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully. 

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit. 

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking. 

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement. 

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said. 

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister… 

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.  

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.   

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush). 

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered. 

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him. 

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating. 

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes. 

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile. 

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said. 

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch. 

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind. 

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear. 

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno. 

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety. 

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else. 

Right now, anyway… 

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace. 

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges. 

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.  

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off. 

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands. 

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size. 

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that. 

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes? 

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents. 

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear. 

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie. 

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances. 

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off. 

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever. 

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

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[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part one [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 5.2k

PART ONE

“What is the point of this entire trip if you’re not going to tell me the restaurants in advance?” Sydney whittled off, trying to keep up with the storming legs of her partner. “Carmen, are you even listening to me, right now?”

“Of course, I’m listening,” he said, peering back at her as his legs kept up their pace. 

He slalomed through people on the sidewalk of 8th Street and St. Marks Place, with Syd close on his tail. She didn’t know these streets like he did. His prior positions in the city were prestigious, ranging from sous chef roles all over the damn city, before he finally made chef de cuisine at Union Square Cafe. As the time had passed, understanding came with it, but she still wouldn’t ever wrap her head around him leaving NY for The Beef. 

She knew Michael meant a lot to him, to the family, but dropping it all for a sandwich shop in Chicago would always be something she’d secretly question. Syd tried not to think about it too much; the fear of him leaving, or bailing, and the like; because at the end of the day she’d bled herself dry for this.

A restaurant. A place. Somewhere her dad used to love, and would love after the renovation. The Beef was gone, it was true, but in its place would be The Bear. The product of all of Carmen’s and her hard work. 

Syd sped up to a jog, until she finally wrapped her fingers around Carmen’s forearm. She tugged him back, and used it as an opportunity to catch her breath. “You’re not listening. I don’t even know where we’re fucking going, Carm.”

He gently tugged his arm from her grasp. “This is a last minute addition,” he said, before he placed his hands on his hips. “I just wanted to get it over with. Sorry for rushing.”

Sydney nodded at him, listening. “Okay. So, let me in, dude. Tell me about this place so I’m less confused, and you’re less… whatever the fuck this is,” she said, gesturing to his erratic behaviour. 

Carmen shuffled on the sidewalk, peering around at shop fronts, and the abundance of restaurants that lined up outside Tompkins Square Park. This was an area he knew like the back of his hand, but one he hadn’t visited since long before he’d left New York. 

“The first place I ever worked in the city. It’s not fine dining, or Michelin starred, or any of that shit,” he started, and despite the abrupt way Syd’s eyes widened from annoyance, she still let him continue. “The vibe of it, though,” he said, and chuckled the words out of his mouth in surprise. “Just, come on.” He gently placed a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leading her forward so they were on the same page. 

From the outside, Lucky Strike Diner didn’t look like anything special. It was a small unit, placed betwixt two taller apartment buildings, to the North of Tompkins Square Park. Syd looked up at it, grimacing slightly, but she tried to keep an open mind. She’d been around her fair share back alley barbeques and hidden gems to know you should never judge a book by its cover. 

When she glanced over to Carmen, he looked practically childlike. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they’d first decided to bin off The Beef and bring in The Bear That wonder, that craving for something new, and excitement of something unknown. Nostalgia danced over every feature of his face, and she watched as he sucked in a sharp breath, before entering the diner. 

Inside, the decor was minimalist, but homely. Black and white photos lined the walls, pictures of families, of friends, of celebrations. Cream and red colours graced the walls, and the booths looked comforting and inviting. Despite the drab appearance outside, inside was bustling. Practically every table was full, and the old style bar was inviting. Through the kitchen window, sparks and fire shot up whenever something burned, or flambed, on the grill. 

This vibe, the one Carmen had mentioned; Sydney felt it all immediately. That warmth, like you were stepping into a family function instead of something elitist. Businessmen sat with their laptops, next to mothers with their babies, and grandfathers on their own. This was a place for everyone, and that was clear to see. 

As servers scattered over the busy restaurant floor, one of them stuck out to Sydney. You scuttled, slaloming through tables with ease, as you made your way to the host stand by the door. 

Saturday rushes were always hardcore, but you’d grown accustomed to them. You grabbed two menus before you even looked the two new customers in the eye, and let out a simple “Welcome to Lucky Strike Diner, table for two–?”

You stopped when your brain finally computed his face; a face you hadn’t seen in a long time. Carmen Berzatto was standing in your fucking restaurant. “Carmy.” His name slipped out easily, and along with it came a sickly feeling in your gut. 

He cleared his throat. “Table for two, yes. Please.”

You glanced at the second member of his party, quickly, and shot her a smile. You didn’t particularly have anything to smile about, but it wasn’t her fault that she’d just been planted into the middle of this inevitable shitstorm. That smile disappeared instantly, as soon as you looked back at Carmen.

“Great,” you said plainly. Even disappearing assholes like Carmen wouldn’t stop you from being professional and civil at work. You loved this place too much, had been here too long, to do that. “This way, please.” 

You steamed forward as you picked out a table in the corner, furthest away from the host stand. You didn’t want him in the middle of the room, where he could easily find you in the crowd of servers. Why he was here and what he was doing didn’t cross your mind until you seated them, dropping the menus down on their respective settings. 

Carmen scooted his chair in, and peered up at you. “It’s been a long time–”

“So, have you guys ever been here before?” you cut over him, and mostly looked at his partner. She shot you a clearly awkward smile, but nevertheless shook her head politely. Carmen stayed silent, and bit upon his tongue. “Okay, so I’ll lay down the lingo for you,” you said, as you quickly went through the menu with her. “You need anything, just wave one of us down and we’ll be happy to help, all good?” 

“Yeah, thank you,” Sydney said with a smile, before she looked over at Carmen. That smile quickly turned to a small frown. 

“Fantastic,” you said. “Can I get you guys some drinks to start?”

“Um, I’ll take the lemonade, thanks,” Sydney ordered, as she attempted to hold this entire interaction together by the skin of her teeth. 

“Great choice, it was made fresh this morning like always.” You turned to Carmen. “And for you, sir?” 

A vein had popped out on Carmen’s forehead very noticeably. It was one that Sydney knew well, when he was either under insane amounts of stress in the kitchen, or fighting against the urge to yell. Maybe both meant the same thing, but still– she could see from a mile off that this was not the way he’d wanted this reunion to go. 

“Surprise me,” he said, as he looked up and caught your eye. 

You clenched your jaw. “I’m no good at surprises, so I’ll just bring you some tap water until you decide,” you said, trying and failing to keep things light. “I’ll be back with those drinks in just a few minutes.” You went to leave quickly. 

“Hey, just–” Carmen reached out for you as fast as he could, but as his fingers grazed your wrist, you managed to snap your arm away from him just in time. He gave up when disappeared through the doors to the back, and dropped himself back into his chair. 

Sydney leant forward immediately. “Okay, dude. What the fuck was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Carmen said bluntly. 

Sydney started laughing breathily. “Yeah, sure, that was nothing. Don’t test me, Carm.”

“I– fuck,” he spluttered. “Just pick your fucking food, please.”

Sydney was a pro at telling Carmen to calm the fuck down, but this interaction had her stumped for a solution. “What do you recommend?” she said, switching her tune.

Carmen met her eye in some kind of silent apology. “Uhh, the eggs. The eggs are fantastic. And the french toast, that’s the restaurant’s best.” As the subject changed, Carmen delved into the menu alongside Syd. They talked about their menu ideas, and paralleled them with the dishes they saw here. 

Maybe bringing a diner styled meal to a (soon to be) Michelin menu wasn’t so much of a bad idea. It fit the theme. The homeliness, paired with the decadence of the chaos menu they’d been discussing priorly. 

In the back, you quickly punched in their drink order, before you slalomed through the kitchen. “Behind!” you yelled, as you made your way through each station. The chefs all shot you concerned looks, as it became apparent where you were heading. 

“Is today really a walk-in day?” One of them, Paulie, said as you raced by. He’d known you for years now, and knew when something was fucking wrong. 

“Yep!” you exclaimed back at him, tugging open the handle of the walk-in swiftly.

“What the fuck happened?” he boomed, but you slammed the door shut before you could muster up a reply. 

Inside, you breathed alongside the ingredients. The vegetables, the homemade sauces, the fresh smoked salmon. It was cold, but not too cold that you couldn’t stand it. The cool air made everything feel calm, like you had somehow been transported to some Icelandic lake in the summertime. The air was crisp, and noise was muffled through the door, like the solace you felt by locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom at a house party. 

Carmen Berzatto showing up out of the blue had been something you’d long stopped indulging in. He’d made himself clear, the last time you’d seen him, that he had no intention of continuing the working relationship or friendship you’d once had. It was only then that you realised how fast the time had gone. 

You were twenty when you met him, the same age as each other. Both of you tried to navigate life together as you stumbled and fell, and got yourselves up again. You were on par with each other, both in intelligence and maturity. Paulie had liked Carm as soon as he’d walked through the door for his interview, and pretty soon after being hired, he’d turned Lucky Strike around like it was no skin off his back.

He was a refreshing change for the life you’d found yourself in. He’d made this place great, and you’d taught each other some life lessons. You’d always known he was destined for more, and you’d always been the first person to sing his praises. 

Before his abrupt switch in personality, you’d thought fondly of your time here together. The same old grind of opening up the diner together in the morning. While he prepped for service in the kitchen, you did so on the restaurant floor. It was a collaborative effort, and without both of you together at that point in time, the diner would have gone under. That’s what made it sting even more, when you thought of your life now– you wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t come along. It was like rubbing extra salt in your already open wound. 

You sucked in a deep, cold breath, and let it out slowly. The cold invigorated your lungs, and gave you the strength to continue with your day. Lunch service was on the brink of its lull, anyway, but having him there, sat outside, with his fucking face that he used to look at you so fondly with, you could hardly stand it. 

A gentle knock sounded from the walk-in door, and you quickly wiped a few spots of sweat from your forehead. “Yeah!” you yelled. 

“Come on out, sweetheart,” Paulie urged you, and you hadn’t been able to refuse him for the time you’d been working at the diner– so that wasn’t going to start now. 

You pushed open the door and sealed it shut behind you, before you allowed yourself to peer up at him. He was a burly guy, but soft around the edges. You had no idea if he was in his forties or sixties, since he had one of those faces that were sort of stuck in time. He spoke like a character straight out of Taxi Driver. 

“What the hell happened, huh?” he asked gently, patting you on your shoulders sturdily. 

You sighed. “Carmen. He’s in the restaurant,” you said. 

“Carmy’s here?” Paulie exclaimed, as he frantically looked around the kitchen. “Guys, Carmy’s here!” he yelled. A few of the chefs, who’d been employed here for time, started muttering loudly. 

Paulie’s joy only made you feel worse, but you didn’t hold it against him. Carm had been a staple here all those years before, and had taught a lot of the guys all that they knew about their role. Literally. “Table twenty,” you said. “Knock yourselves out.”

Service stopped momentarily as Paulie and two other chefs made their way out to the restaurant. You stayed back, and peered through the kitchen window. Beyond the bar, you saw Paulie exclaim as Carmen stood up and shook his hand. They hugged like bears, and he introduced Sydney to them all. 

Paulie’s voice was one that carried, so it was impossible not to hear every note of their conversation from where you were. “We’ll whip you up your old favourites. You still like salmon?” Paulie went on, and Carmen nodded and smiled in appreciation the entire time. 

You composed yourself as best as you could, before you left the kitchen. You grabbed their drinks, already prepared, on the bar, and gently shoved yourself through to their table. 

“Aye, aye, aye– we have hungry people waiting, Paulie!” you said, allowing yourself to don a small smile as you gently set down their drinks. “Come on now, back to work, chefs!” 

Paulie squeezed Carmen’s shoulder, before he gestured to you. “She’s practically the boss around here now, Carmy. The big boss,” he said. Carmen gently met your eye, but you looked away as fast as you could. 

“Alright, alright. Big boss says three orders of french toast on the fly, chef,” you said, grinning as Paulie held up his hands defensively. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, as he started treading back towards the kitchen. “Good to see you, Carmy!” he boomed. 

“You too, Paulie,” Carmen said, before he awkwardly sat back down and tucked himself in. 

You caught your breath again, as you cleared your throat. “So, it seems our chef has already picked your order for you. Can I get you guys anything else that he didn’t mention?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sydney said, pointing to the menu. “What is this exactly?”

You read the words just above her fingertip, and your gut dropped. Tangerine salade. You were torn between wanting to laugh maniacally, or leave and never return to the diner. Carmen’s eyes widened in realisation at Sydney’s request. 

“Oh, it’s–”

“It’s–”

You and Carmen stopped talking when you heard the other start. You’d both gone to explain the dish– if it could even be called a dish. You held your breath abruptly and took a small step back. Part of you wondered if he remembered the entire meaning, but you weren’t about to explain it all in great detail. Not when it didn’t feel as special anymore. 

“I’m sorry, you tell us. Please.” Carmen shut his mouth and sat back, as if he was on best behaviour. 

“It’s exactly what it says,” you said. “Tangerine salad. Two fresh tangerines, cut into slices like big oranges, instead of peeled and segmented.”

Sydney smiled, amused. “Where did that come from?” 

It came from Carmen. You had a habit of stealing fruit from the walk-in, when you realised you hadn’t eaten on a shift. Tangerines were always ordered, but hardly ever used, so there was always an abundance of them, destined to rot. 

Carmen caught you everytime, eating them like orange slices, just so they were quicker and easier to scoff down during a rush. The juice didn’t get on your hands as much, and you enjoyed the vibrant colour they produced over the white pith that covered their segments when peeled. Carmen had taken it upon himself to add a new item during a menu refresh in the early days. Tangerine salade was born, and neither you, nor Paulie, had ever thought to get rid of it. Even after all this time.

“Why did you call it that?” you asked Carmen, gobsmacked to see it on the menu for the first time, all those years before.

“Salad didn’t sound as good as salade,” he explained. 

“You chefs and your obsession with French words, huh?” you joked, as you rounded his station and dropped the menu down upon the pristine surface. “This is sweet, Carmy. Sweet, but unnecessary.”

“Not true,” he countered, bashing his shoulder into yours playfully. “Now that it’s on the menu, it’s got a button on the system. Whenever you need a tangerine just punch it through, and we’ll have two of ‘em, waiting for you when you get a moment to fucking breathe.” 

You felt Carmen’s stare on you at Sydney’s question, and forced yourself to suck in a breath and come back to reality. “Tangerine salad is our version of McDonalds apple slice bags. For the kids,” you lied, but nevertheless kept a smile stamped on your face. Carmen looked positively pale at your response. “They’re good fucking tangerines, though,” you added, and Sydney chuckled in surprise. 

“Okay, I need to try these tangerines,” she said. 

“One order of tangerine salade, on top of all the rest, sure.” You made a quick note on your order slip, even though you didn’t need to. It was just a way to avoid Carmen’s stare even further. 

For the rest of the lunch rush, you pretended like he wasn’t there. You did the rounds, topping up cups of coffee, and rushing fresh dishes and dirty plates to and from the kitchen. You stayed on top of admin when you got a spare moment at the host stand, and scrolled through invoices from suppliers. 

Without meaning to, you’d stayed at Lucky Strike Diner for seven years. It was life for you now. You lived a few blocks away, through the park, but having an apartment felt like a waste when you practically lived in the restaurant. 

You and Carmen had talked about so much, when you’d both been confined to these walls. What lay beyond for both of you. His dream to cook in top restaurants, and eventually build his own restaurant from the ground up. You didn’t really have any dreams, just the security and stability of a good life, and good people around you, but you indulged whenever he mentioned his own place. 

“Well, if you ever need a front of house manager, you know where to find me,” you joked, as you wiped down the bar at the end of the day. Carmen poked his head through the kitchen window. 

“Why don’t we do it, then?” he asked abruptly. You stopped wiping the surfaces, and turned around to face him. “Open our own restaurant.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know. Money, taxes, insurance, money,” you listed off, and he tossed a wet cloth at your face. You dodged it, and watched it crash onto one of the restaurant tables. “Hey!” You turned back, shooting him an amused grin. 

“You’re too much of a fucking realist,” he said, as he made his way out of the kitchen and into the restaurant. 

“And you’re too much of a fucking dreamer. These things take time, Carmy.”

“I know that,” he said, as he grabbed the cloth he’d thrown. He approached the bar, and leaned over it, bridging the gap between your faces. “We could still do it, though. Have our own place. Cook our own menu.”

You smiled at his words, and rearranged the napkin holders next to him. “Can’t do that when you’re about to join the big leagues,” you said, and Carmen slid off the bar. 

“You’re gonna fucking jinx it!” he wailed.

“It’s called manifesting!” you exclaimed. “You’re gonna get the fucking job, Carm.” He pulled out a chair from one of the tables and dropped into it melodramatically. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” he muttered. “You think Paulie will still talk to me if I leave?”

You were the one to throw your cloth at him now, and it hit him square in his face with a slap sound. You smacked your hands over your mouth in surprise, before you tried and failed to stop chuckles from cascading out of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry–” you started, rounding the bar. 

Carmen slid the cloth off his face. “You’re fucking funny,” he said sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry, Carmy, really,” you said through chuckles, as you dropped yourself into the chair opposite him. You took the cloth from his hands, and gently squeezed his hand in apology. 

A comfortable silence, one that you’d grown accustomed to over the past eight months, descended upon the two of you. All you could hear was the playful pounding of your hearts and the soft way he breathed. It was a relaxing sound. 

“You’re gonna get it,” you said again, and Carmen only had eyes for you then. “And when you do, I can’t wait to go and eat the best meal of my fucking life.”

Carmen smiled. He’d always been shy, always quiet, unless he was in the kitchen. “My brother has a restaurant, back in Chicago. When I finished culinary school, I really thought he’d let me join him, you know? It could be a family restaurant. We could run it together, or something,” he said. You hooked onto his every word. “But, he told me no. Said he didn’t want me anywhere near it, and– I don’t know. I think that’s why I came here.”

You bit your lip, inhaling his words. “Family will always be our harshest critics,” you said.

Carmen scoffed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. “You can fucking say that again.”

“You know, my sister lives in Chicago,” you said. 

Carmen leant forward. “Really?”

You hummed. “Has for a few years now. My mom didn’t like it when she told us she was moving, but.” You shrugged. “That’s just because my mom has never lived anywhere else than here.”

“Yeah, my own wasn’t thrilled about me coming to New York, either,” Carmen said, before he huffed in dark amusement. “It’s funny. She hates us, my brother and sister and I, when we’re around, when we complain, when we do anything– but she also hates it when we all wanna get the fuck out because of it.”

You smiled at him softly, in understanding. “They fuck you up, don’t they?”

Carmen flicked his gaze over your features. “You don’t seem fucked up to me,” he said gently. 

“Give it time,” you said. Smiles slowly appeared on both of your faces, until laughter trickled from your mouths like drops from a tap. “One day you’ll realise just how messed up I am,” you joked. 

“Is that a challenge?” Carmen questioned. 

You scoffed, and raised your hands up defensively. “Fuck no. I don’t want to tempt fate when it comes to how fucked up chefs can be.”

Carmen pointed at you abruptly, sternly, but there was amusement all over his face. “That is an untrue stereotype,” he said. “Not all of us snort coke.”

“All?” you asked.

“Well.” He leaned closer to you, stretching his arms across the table. “Not me.” 

You regarded him softly. You hardly got the chance to do this during service; just look at him. Hold his gaze, feel him close. You would never admit it, but having Carmen around was a constant over the past months that comforted you. You liked having him near, liked seeing him practically everyday, and it was clear that you got on enough to talk bullshit with each other. 

When you got home that evening, way past midnight, you opened up your laptop and went to the Union Square Cafe website. You hovered your mouse over the reservations tab, thinking something crazy. 

Carmen hadn’t heard back from the restaurant yet, but he’d only applied as the CDC there a number of days before. You knew he was going to get it, and felt it deep within your soul. That feeling is what lead you to book yourself a solo dinner, for the first available date you could possibly find– a years’ time.

You knew that, by the time that year was up and you were sitting at your table, Carmen would be in the kitchen, cooking your meal. You didn’t tell him about it either, but kept it to yourself for the remainder of his time at the diner. 

You’d been right, when within a month, he’d gone through a rigorous interview process and landed the position and USC. Paulie had faked being mad, but it was clear to see the immense admiration he had for the young Carmen Berzatto. When his last shift approached, you had secretly arranged a goodbye celebration. At the end of a long Saturday, as you and Carmen shut up the diner and headed out, you were ambushed by the servers and chefs as you tread through the park. 

Drinks and laughs were shared at your apartment across the way. It was the most you’d seen Carmen socialise in the time you’d known him, but he didn’t look uncomfortable once. He knew he had a support system behind him from the diner– and from you, predominantly. When the moon shone down onto your building, you found yourself out on your fire escape with a beer bottle in your hand. You looked up at the stars, and only looked away when someone shuffled out of the window and sat next to you. 

Carmen crossed his legs next to you, and gulped down his own beer contentedly. You turned to him and smiled fully, overly excited for him to start his new endeavour. 

He huffed at you softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he said. 

“I know,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

Carmen shuffled awkwardly next to you. “I know, I know, it’s just–”

“For once, you need to be okay with being the centre of attention, okay? Deal with it.” You hit back, and laughed when you saw the way his eyes widened at your tenacity. “We’re so excited for you, Carm.”

Carmen nodded, and allowed himself to accept all of your praise, just this once. “I’m excited, too,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I got it.”

“I can,” you said. “If you don’t get some type of chef award in the next year then I’ll be surprised.” 

Carmen laughed. “Chef award?”

“You know, like ‘Best New Chef On The Block’, or ‘Shyest Chef In The Business’, or–”

“Enough, enough,” he let out, chuckling. You weren’t done yet, however. 

“Or the James Beard award.” 

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“It’s called mani–”

“Manifesting!” Carmen finished your sentence for you, imitating your past words. You leaned against the wall in awe at his playfulness. 

“So, you do listen to me sometimes, huh?”

“I guess I do,” he said, and shot you a knowing smile. You held his gaze when he gave it to you, because it was somewhat of a rare thing. 

Maybe you’d always been too out there for Carmen, but he’d learned to live alongside you despite it. You were glad about that. You enjoyed his company more than you’d ever say to his face, and despite being so happy for him to leave the diner, part of you was aching at the thought of his absence. 

You flicked your gaze over his face, taking in his features. He had a strong nose, and the kind of cheekbones that they talked about in women’s magazines. His eyes, though– God, his eyes– they were so blue that they looked artificial in some lights. Like the kind of blue food colouring you put in cake icing. Alarming, but also impossible to shy away from when he was properly looking at you. 

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, almost croaking out the words. Your heart melted. Your brows furrowed softly. Your chest compressed. You let out a shaking breath through your nose. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Carmy,” you let out. It felt like the best and worst kind of goodbye. 

You hadn’t thought about that day in years. The last time you had, it was after your reservation at USC the year after. Coincidentally, that was the last time you’d seen Carmen Berzatto too, until he showed up at the diner and plummeted you back to those thoughts from those previous years. 

As the lunch rush died down, you wiped the bar down from lack of what else to do. In the corner, Carmen and Sydney were finishing up their meal. Sydney had made an abundance of notes in a small notebook, while Carmen talked in hushed tones and spilled all the old diner secrets. With his hands clasped on the table before him, used napkin to his left, plates practically licked clean, he turned himself around to glance around the restaurant. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes hit yours. You almost froze, but remembered yourself as much as you could. You tensed, and looked away first quickly. You smacked your hands down on the counter when you looked to the kitchen, and caught Paulie’s eyes. “I’m going for a smoke!” you announced, before you slipped off your apron quickly. 

“Those things will kill you!” Paulie exclaimed back, his voice booming across the restaurant floor. 

“Maybe that’s the point,” you muttered to yourself, as you headed towards the back door of the diner. You slipped a cigarette between your lips on the way.

Carmen’s gaze followed you as you disappeared through the door. Sydney saw it all as she sat opposite him, and had the strangest urge to give him guidance. 

“So, shall we get outta here?” she asked. Carmen’s attention was still on the door. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, but his mind was still elsewhere. “Just– give me one second,” he said, as he stood up from the table. He started towards the door, and Sydney grabbed his wrist abruptly. Carmen froze, and looked down at her. 

“Don’t push her,” Sydney said suddenly. “I don’t know what shit you guys have going on, but I’m good at reading faces. Just don’t push her too hard, Carm.” 

Carmen regarded her thoughtfully. He nodded. Then, he was gone.

PART TWO

[lowkeyrobin]

hiiiiii can u pls make a tommy x fem!reader where they go on a fake date for a vlog (but its actually a secret plot by tommy or yn (u choose) to go on a date w the other bc theyve had a secret crush on thr other for a long time🤭🤭)

and then like,,,, in the middle of the date the other realizes that oh,,,, i like them

AND THEN CUE THE PANIC THAT COMES WITH REALIZING U LOVE UR BEST FRIEND IN THE MIDDLE OF A FAKE DATE AND THEN MAYBE AFTER FINISHING THE VLOG THEY LIKE REVEAL THEIR FEELINGS TO EACH OTHER AND AGREE TO GO ON A REAL DATE LATER???👁️👁️

omg yes of COURSEEEE ; also I do only do gn readers but I can 100% do the rest of this 💪💪 hope you enjoy 🫶 ; also djo is mentioned (I've been a fan since like 2020) do not start gatekeeping on me LMAO ; listening to my tommyinnit playlist while making this and 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (link can be found on my masterlist -> playlists 👍 it's a banger

TOMMYINNIT ; real date ❌️ fake date ✅️

summary ; you go on a fake date for a vlog and decide to go on a real one because the romantic tension got you both positively nauseated

warnings ; language

genre ; fluff

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

"Y/n, you wanna go stop for food?" The blonde asks, dropping the vlog camera a bit as he hears his stomach grumble in hunger. "We can make it a date for the vlog" He suggests, praying you'd say yes.

You nod, agreeing to the bit and the food considering you were also beginning to starve. Meanwhile, he feels his intestines flip around in his torso, trying to hide a giggle of approval as you agree.

You stop at a little lunch place and dine in with some sandwiches and soup. You and Tommy sit at one of the half-booth-half-chair tables, and put the camera in front of you as you sit next to each other. You talk about and eat at the same time, basically doing a mini storytime for the vlog, considering he was trying to do a vlog challenge to upload every week and have his videos reach at least twenty minutes and you were down to help him.

Tommy tries to push off the weight off his shoulders, love pulling him down as he looks over at you, talking to the camera about a story from earlier. He feels his stomach fill with butterflies as you laugh and smile, your eyes twinkling like sun reflecting off of water.

He quickly looks back down at his food, trying to hide his longing eyes for you. His ears dust a little red, feeling flustered as you joke around with him, making little date conversation to play up the bit.

You eventually get into the joke as a whole, making fake flirty conversation, making both of you silently panic inside. It's obvious to everyone but you, his ears and cheeks dusted pink, you trying to hide your smile as your face warms up past the heat of the oven when you bake out-the-box cakes together. You have to walk out of the building because you were getting too loud with laughter and didn't want to disturb the other patrons.

You walk down the sidewalk together, talking on and on and opening up more than usual about a lot of things. Tommy shows off all the scenery as you walk, later to be edited with Empire State Of Mind in the background, considering you'd been traveling around New York together while Freddie and Jack did their own things around the city.

You take the camera after a few minutes, wanting to have some fun with it. From silly angles and .5's of your foreheads to the Empire State Building and the flashy lights and screens everywhere like Times Square, you got it all. You found it so fucking enjoyable, catching all the beauties of city life you'd never experienced before. The bustling streets and the sound of music coming from just about everywhere, it weirdly comforted you.

You hold the camera up high, zoomed all the way out to capture you and the blonde, singing along to End Of Beginning by Djo, the song playing in the earbuds you were sharing. I mean, this was the beginning of a new end, in all honesty, the tour, him, your new eras and styles of content, the new way you'd picked yourselves off the floor and made yourselves new people. You were both happy enough to be on the hectic rollercoaster of life with each other in the seat next to the other.

Tommy can't help but find your funny control over the camera and your jokes amusing, to say the least. He couldn't help but fall more head over heels than he already was. He didn't know how he didn't notice it already, but when you touched the concrete in New York City, he felt it. Something in him awakened, like he realized how amazing it was to have this tour going on, for one, two, you were there. You were always there. You were always right in fucking front of his eyes.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You lay face up on the bed in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling. The room is freezing considering the heater doesn't work, and you needed the window open to get some fresh air. You're wrapped in a blanket you'd brought from home for comfort, and hidden under the thick bedsheets you'd been given for the night.

The show went well as per usual, at least.

What wasn't going well was the fact you couldn't sleep.

All because of a certain blonde haired boy who was currently obsessed with sweatshirts and jeans.

His laugh was contagious, his smile shining a thousand sun's, his eyes flowing as deep as the sea you longed for back in Europe, which you frequently walked with MotherInnit. You could stare at him all day, you'd never realized how you felt about him, or the fact the way you thought about him was romantic.

You stare up at the ceiling, a boob light hanging above your feet. It was times like these where you wished you could afford a nicer hotel. The mattress itched of dirty sheets and crumbs, which were not caused by you, or maybe that was the fear of sleeping in a bed that wasn't yours... one of the two.

You wanted to stomp up to Tommy's room, a floor above you and down the hall some, to just rant about taking him on a proper date tomorrow considering how much you'd enjoyed your "date" earlier. But you didn't have the heart, you lay with your stomach twisting and turning, heart aching and burning for him by your side to warm you up.

The bustling city night life soothes you to sleep, the vehicles below on the streets all headed home or to work or around the city. The people shoulder to shoulder on the street, enjoying a peaceful walk to wherever their feet were taking them, the homeless girl you'd given a couple hundred dollars to earlier as she played her flute. A boy about her age had joined her since then, wielded with a guitar, possibly becoming friends through bonding with their interests and the fact they were both struggling.

You could hear their music even from four floors up and through the city traffic, it was beautiful. They fit together perfectly, like two neighboring pieces of a puzzle. You wished you felt that way with Tommy. You wished you could come clean to him about your feelings and how you really thought of him. Yet, tonight was not that night.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The panic had set in from last night now.

You were barely awake when you stared up at the ceiling, swooning over your best friend, but now you were wide awake and in total realization of your thoughts. You internally cringe every time you think about it, wanting to vanish off the face of the Earth.

Through the last day in New York, you found yourself avoiding Tommy at all costs. From wandering off with Freddie to eating by your lonesome and spending time in your hotel room to "edit videos," you'd probably only spent a half hour around him.

He was growing concerned while Jack and Freddie shared a knowing look, knowing exactly what was happening. They'd both known of his crush on you, which spanned past the past four or so months. You finally realized you liked him back and wanted to deny it.

The two wanted to intervene but decide to let fate run its course, trusting that your natural human instincts would bring you together again. You bump into the blonde in the hallway, needing to go get ice to sit in it for an hour in the bathtub as some sort of therapy, which Tommy highly always made fun of you for. You apologize, the empty bin for ice in your hands.

"Ice?" He asks, then groans with a smile, "You seriously gonna sit in ice til we have to leave for the airport tomorrow morning?"

You shrug with a light smile, feeling your heart racing. You hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out his beautiful voice.

"Y/n? You okay?" He speaks, snapping you back to reality.

Without any thought behind it, you shoot your shot. "Do you wanna go on an actual date sometime?" You quickly speak, stumbling over your words.

His face quickly shifts to a smile, his smile lines showing themselves off. "Yeah! Wait, no, I mean like, "Yeah, sure," not like, "I'm so desperate, yeah-"

"Cool!" You quickly rush past him, your hands sweaty, your face flushing as you dart towards the ice machine.

He turns and watches you quickly speed walk away, his cheeks burning bright as he smiles, watching you walk away.

TommyInnit ; fake and real dates with Y/n <3 ; 20:49 ; Posted 4 hours ago

Y/U/N left a comment!

Y/U/N ; youre actually a dork

TommyInnit replied to your comment!

TommyInnit ; well you couldn't pick between a fake and a real date, apparently. we had to do both

Y/U/N ; fake date ✅️ real date ❌️

TommyInnit ; people.

[visit-new-york]

What are some of the popular dining options or food vendors in or around Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Nestled against the stunning backdrop of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge and overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Brooklyn Bridge Park offers not only breathtaking views but also a diverse culinary landscape that caters to every palate. Whether you're craving a leisurely brunch, a quick snack, or a romantic dinner, the area surrounding Brooklyn Bridge Park has something for everyone. In this article, we'll explore some of the popular dining options and food vendors that enhance the overall experience of visiting this picturesque location.

Van Leeuwen Ice Cream:

If you're strolling through Brooklyn Bridge Park on a warm day and craving a sweet treat, make your way to Van Leeuwen Ice Cream. This artisanal ice cream shop, located nearby, is renowned for its high-quality, made-from-scratch ice creams. With a commitment to using natural and organic ingredients, Van Leeuwen offers a delectable range of flavors, from classic vanilla to unique options like honeycomb and earl grey. Enjoy a cone or cup as you take in the stunning views of the park and the surrounding waterfront. The irresistible combination of creamy textures and distinctive flavors makes Van Leeuwen a favorite among locals and tourists alike.

Juliana's Pizza:

Situated just a stone's throw away from Brooklyn Bridge Park, Juliana's Pizza is a beloved establishment with a rich history. Known for its coal-fired brick oven pizzas, Juliana's serves up delicious pies with a perfect balance of crispy crust and fresh, high-quality toppings. The cozy ambiance and friendly staff make it an ideal spot for families and friends to gather and enjoy a classic New York slice.

Gran Electrica:

For those seeking a taste of authentic Mexican cuisine, Gran Electrica is a must-visit restaurant located near the park. With a vibrant atmosphere and a menu featuring traditional dishes prepared with a modern twist, Gran Electrica offers a unique dining experience. From flavorful tacos to handcrafted cocktails, this eatery seamlessly blends Mexican flavors with a contemporary flair.

Smorgasburg:

Food enthusiasts and adventurous eaters alike will appreciate the diverse culinary offerings at Smorgasburg. This open-air food market, located in DUMBO, features a rotating selection of food vendors offering everything from international street food to innovative and Instagram-worthy desserts. From crispy Korean fried chicken to decadent ice cream sandwiches, Smorgasburg is a food lover's paradise just a short stroll from Brooklyn Bridge Park.

Grimaldi's Pizzeria:

Another pizza gem in the vicinity, Grimaldi's Pizzeria, is known for its coal-brick oven pies with a thin crust and fresh mozzarella. This legendary pizzeria has been serving up classic New York-style pizza for decades. With its prime location under the Brooklyn Bridge, diners can enjoy their meal while taking in the scenic views of the bridge and the Manhattan skyline.

Time Out Market:

For a curated selection of the best local eats, head to Time Out Market in DUMBO. This food and cultural market features a variety of stalls offering gourmet dishes from some of the city's top chefs. Whether you're in the mood for artisanal burgers, sushi, or artisanal pastries, Time Out Market provides a one-stop culinary adventure for foodies.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park not only offers a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of the city but also serves as a gateway to a culinary journey through some of Brooklyn's finest dining establishments. From historic pizzerias to modern food markets, the area around the park presents a diverse array of flavors and experiences for locals and visitors alike. So, the next time you find yourself in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, be sure to explore the gastronomic delights that make this waterfront neighborhood a true epicurean destination.

[coffeenewstom]

Toms Breakfast Club: Club-Sandwich

Ein wahrer Klassiker unter den Sandwiches ist das Club-Sandwich. Denken wir an ein Sandwich, dann fällt uns dieses meinst als erstes ein. Und das nicht ohne Grund, hat es sich doch geradezu eingebürgert. Das erste Rezept erschien 1894 unter dem Namen Club-House-Sandwiches im Rezeptbuch Sandwiches von Sarah Tyson Rorer: “Put on top of a square of toasted bread a thin layer of broiled ham or bacon;…

[pjackk]

SUPPORT SMALL BUISNESSES

Tummy roaring? Hunting for some grub? Come on down to Pjacks WorldWide Subfari to bag real trophey of a sandwich!

Check out our NEW and impoved menu!!!

The Mafioso Mexicano

Buttery garlic bread bun with a specialty New York Italiano Style Meat Ball & Pjacks "Spicy Abuelita" Ghost Peppuh Sauce. Generously seasoend with a secret Cumin & Powdered Parmasan mix!!!

Da Salty Dawg

A classic Pjacks Megadawg Hot Dog doused in Pjacks Old Fisherman Chum Sauwce (Old bay, oysters, imitation crab, mayo & tartar sauce puree) on a buttery buttery white bread bun!!!

Perfect Prototype Pimento

North carolina style pimento cheese mixed with Prototype Sauce (Ketshup, mayo, & a special secret...) on a yummy buttery white bread bun with 3 patty sausages

The Serpents Toungue

Congo anaconda steak, Pjacks Spicy "Venom" Dressing, sliced jalepenos, romaine lettuce, & cherry tomatoez on an artisanally buttery white bread bun!!

The Patriot Fist

Classic american style sandwich with lettuce, ham, swiss cheese, & ketchup on a big fat buttery white bread bun!

The Alpino Wino

Sourkraut & Red beet pickled quail eggs fried in beer batter with a red vinegar sauce on an authentically german or french or smthn buttery white bread bun!!

The Serpents Toungue

Congo jungle anaconda steak, Pjacks Spicy "Venom" Dressing, sliced jalepenos, romaine lettuce, & cherry tomatoez on an artisanally buttery white bread bun!!

The Kuma Wrap

A delicious & healthy wrap with plenty of avocado, diced tomato, red onion, shredded cheddar cheese, ground chinese bear sausage, blue cheese crumbles, romaine lettuce, Pjacks Tangy Buffalo Sawce, & a dash of ranch dressing all on a delicious buttery flour tortilla!

Da Steam Boat

Homestyle meat loaf with tons of juicy meaty creamy gravy & mini hush puppys on a buttery white bread bun worthy of a steam boat captain

Rejuvinator Cucumber Health Water

We are proud of our cucumber water which is known to cure disease we also have sodas if u want

[allthelovehes]

Writing Retreat* | TEASER

Summary: Harry takes Y/N on a writing retreat to Italy, and given all this alone time causes things to bloom between him and his guitarist.

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Guitarist!Y/N

Word count: 2.5K TEASER of a 5K Patreon Exclusive!

Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut, p in v, swimming pool sex.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 @cherrylovers-world @harrys-littlefreak Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

Support my work by joining my Patreon!

“You're coming with me to Italy right?” Harry asks Y/N through the phone, while he is sitting on the sofa in his living room. Harry is planning a writing retreat in Italy to work on his fourth album. He is hoping Y/N will agree to come with him as he could use her expertise for the project.

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N answers while looking at the plane tickets. She is currently staying in New York with a couple of friends to catch up with them before she leaves for Italy. “I bought my tickets already, we'll arrive on the same day.”

“Perfect. I'll send you the address of the Airbnb we're staying at so you can check out the local sights and stuff. The studio isn't far from there, so it will only be a short walk.” Harry says while smiling to himself, excited to have her there to help him write his songs.

“That sounds good.” Y/N says as she looks over her shoulder and sees her friend walking into the kitchen. “I'll text you tomorrow. I can't wait to see you.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles to himself again.

“Y/N, do you have a boyfriend you never told us about?” Her friend suddenly says as she puts down her phone and Y/N can hear a bit of a laugh in her voice.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head as she turns towards her friend. “Why are you asking that?”

“You have this look on your face that tells me you're smitten with someone.” Her friend says, smiling. She is onto something as Y/N is indeed head over heels for Harry and that's where it gets complicated. Not only is he her best friend, but also her boss, so she doesn't want to mix the two together.

“I don't.” Y/N laughs, shaking her head as she gets up. She walks into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and her friend follows her.

“Then who were you talking to?” She asks, smiling.

“Harry.” Y/N answers honestly as she turns the kettle on and grabs two mugs from the cupboard.

“The Harry?” Her friend asks, her eyes growing wide. “Harry Styles, the man you have worked for the past years? Your best friend, Harry?”

“Yes, the one and only.” Y/N laughs and her friend laughs with her.

“Does he know about your feelings?” Her friend asks as she sits down on the barstool at the counter.

“Gosh, there's no feelings for him to know about. We're friends.” Y/N answers, not looking at her friend as she takes the teabags from the top drawer and puts one in each mug.

“Sure, okay. I get it.” Her friend says, not believing her.

“I mean, yeah, he's attractive. But I'm sure every girl thinks that.” Y/N adds.

“Not just every girl, but most girls.” Her friend replies. “Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“I can't.” Y/N answers simply as she turns to look at her friend. “He's my boss.”

“But you also said you're his friend, right?” Her friend says. “You'll be with him on a holiday for the next couple of weeks, plenty of time to figure it out.”

“We'll see.” Y/N replies as the kettle boils and she turns back around to make their cups of tea. ***

The next morning, Y/N's alarm wakes her up and she immediately gets out of bed. She goes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, before going to the kitchen. It's 8 am and Y/N has to be at the airport in two hours to catch her flight. She made some sandwiches the night before and packs them into a box along with some drinks. Then she packs the last of her stuff in her suitcase and grabs her handbag. Her friends are still sleeping and they offered to take her to the airport, but Y/N decided she would get an Uber. She is too nervous to sit in a car with her friends on her way to the airport.

When the Uber arrives, she sends her friends a text to let them know she's leaving and she opens the trunk before the driver helps her put her suitcase in the car. Once she's seated in the back, the driver starts the journey to the airport.

Y/N checks her phone for the hundredth time this morning and Harry hasn't sent her a message yet. She knows he's probably sleeping, as he's flying in from London, but she is hoping he's up soon to send her a message. Y/N is excited to see him.

She opens Instagram and scrolls through her feed. She is a little nervous to go on a writing trip with Harry. What if they spend all day and night together in their own private bubble and something happens between them? She isn't sure what to do if that were to happen, but she is also trying to not think about it.

It's not like they'll be the only ones in the studio but the Airbnb is just for the two of them. Harry made sure to book a proper house for them, with enough rooms and a pool. It is a big Airbnb, located close to the beach and the studio. There's a kitchen where the two of them can cook their meals and the bedrooms both have their own ensuite.

Y/N can't help but daydream a little about sharing the house with Harry. It's the first time the two of them will live together and she wonders what it will be like. She has known him for so long, but living with someone is always a different story.

The ride to the airport goes by fast and once Y/N has checked in, she grabs a coffee and waits for her plane to start boarding. As she sits down, her phone lights up and a smile appears on her face when she sees Harry's name pop up.

HarryHey, can't wait to see you. You at the airport yet?

Y/NHey. Yeah, just boarded the plane. See you soon!

HarryText me when you arrive and I'll come get you.

Y/NWill do. x

She puts her phone into airplane mode and takes a sip from her coffee, while she looks outside at the planes landing and taking off. She has done this so many times before, but this time is different.

After a couple of hours, Y/N's plane lands in Milan and she is relieved to finally be on solid ground. She is greeted by the warm Italian air as she walks to the baggage claim and takes her phone out of airplane mode. Her phone buzzes immediately and she smiles as she sees Harry's name light up the screen.

HarryI'm outside, can't wait to see you.

Y/NOutside where?

HarryBaggage claim.

Y/N smiles as she picks up her suitcase from the conveyor belt and walks outside, searching for Harry. She is surprised when she sees him standing outside, his eyes fixated on his phone, and her heart beats a little faster. He is wearing a loose t-shirt, jean shorts and his curls are styled perfectly.

“Hey.” Y/N says, her voice sounding a little nervous.

Harry lifts his gaze from his phone and he smiles when he sees Y/N. He quickly puts his phone away and walks towards her. “Hey.” He says as he wraps his arms around her and Y/N feels her body melt into his embrace. His scent is intoxicating and she lets out a deep breath.

“How was the flight?” Harry asks as he pulls away.

“Fine. How was yours?” Y/N asks as they start walking.

“It was good.” Harry nods, smiling.

“I thought I was supposed to let you know I'm here before you'd come pick me up.” Y/N laughs and Harry's smile grows wider.

“Well, I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you.” He says, his words causing butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

They make their way through the airport and soon, they are outside. It's hotter than Y/N expected it to be, but the Italian air feels nice. They get into Harry's rental car. She tries to focus on the beautiful buildings, parks and trees, but her mind keeps wandering off to the fact that she'll be living with the man beside her for the next couple of weeks.

“Here we are.” Harry says as he parks the car and Y/N is snapped back to reality.

“Wow, this is huge.” Y/N exclaims as she takes in the villa. It's even better than the pictures showed. It has a large porch with a garden in front of the house and she can see the pool behind the house.

“Yeah.” Harry says as he gets out of the car and walks around to get Y/N's suitcase from the trunk.

“Let me help you.” Y/N says as she grabs the other side of her suitcase and they walk up the stairs towards the entrance.

“No, no, I've got it.” Harry shakes his head and Y/N lets go of her suitcase. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him.

“Thanks.” She says as Harry opens the front door and pushes her suitcase inside.

“This is our home for the next couple of weeks.” Harry says as they walk further into the house. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Where is my room?” Y/N asks as she takes her shoes off.

“Uhm, upstairs, the first door on the left.” Harry answers.

“Thanks.” Y/N nods. “I'll just bring my suitcase upstairs, unpack and freshen up a little.”

“No problem.” Harry says and Y/N can feel his eyes on her as she climbs the stairs. She opens the door and smiles as she takes in the beautiful bedroom. It has a king-sized bed, a couch and a desk. She places her suitcase on the couch and opens it.

“This is nice.” Harry says and Y/N turns around to see him leaning against the doorway.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods. “Much bigger than my bedroom in London.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Harry smiles as he steps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. “So, how have you been?” ***

It's been a couple of days since the two of them arrived at their dream destination and they have spent most of their time exploring the area. They have gone to the beach, the shops and restaurants and today is the first day they will start working in the studio.

Y/N has woken up early, even though they stayed up late the night before. They have gone to a fancy restaurant where they had some good food and wine.

“Morning.” Harry's voice comes from behind her as Y/N stands in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready.

“Hey.” Y/N says, smiling. “There's coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.” Harry says as he steps towards the coffee machine and grabs a cup.

“Do you have anything planned for today?” Y/N asks.

“We're going to the studio, right?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah.” Y/N says, nodding her head. “I have some ideas for a new song, actually.”

“Really? That's great.” Harry says, his eyes lighting up. “We should get breakfast on the way.”

“Okay, let's go.” Y/N nods and follows him outside.

Once they are in the studio, they settle in the control room and Harry hands Y/N his notebook. She flips through the pages, seeing the songs he's already written and some notes he's made.

“Can I play something for you?” Harry asks.

“Of course.” Y/N smiles, turning her attention back to Harry.

“I want your honest opinion, okay?” He says and Y/N nods her head. “So, it's not finished yet. I just want to hear how it sounds with the melody.”

“Go ahead.” Y/N says.

Harry sits down on the chair and starts playing the piano. His fingers hit the keys and Y/N closes her eyes, letting his voice and the music engulf her. It's a beautiful song, the lyrics and melody flowing perfectly together.

“How is it?” Harry asks when he finishes and Y/N opens her eyes.

“It's amazing, Harry. Really.” Y/N says, her voice is sincere.

“You really think so?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says as she gets up from the chair and steps closer to Harry. “I really do.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles, looking down at his feet.

“Let's add some guitars and record a demo. See how it sounds.” Y/N suggests and Harry nods.

“Okay, let's do it.” Harry agrees, following her out of the control room and into the live room. They work on the song until the late afternoon, recording and mixing the demo. ***

Two weeks later, they have a lot of work done on the album and Harry's been playing the guitar and singing for most of the days. Y/N's been listening, offering him some advice and helping him out with the arrangements along with other people who dropped into the studio here and there.

It's late at night and they're sitting on the porch, a glass of wine in their hands.

“I think we're almost done with the album.” Harry says.

“Yeah, it's coming along really nicely.” Y/N replies, looking over at him. “It's a good one, Harry. Really.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiles. “It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“Of course it would.” Y/N smiles, blushing a little.

“No, it wouldn't.” Harry shakes his head, his eyes on hers. “You've been such a big part of it.”

“It's your music, your songs. It's a big part of you, Harry.” Y/N says, not breaking the eye contact.

“Exactly, but it's your words. Your inspiration. Your heart.” Harry replies, his eyes falling on her lips for a split second.

“Well, I'm glad I could help.” Y/N whispers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I've never felt like this when writing songs, Y/N.” Harry admits. “It's almost like... I don't know.”

“Like what?” Y/N asks.

“I don't know, it's different. More, more real. More meaningful. Something like that.” Harry says, a smile playing on his lips.

“It's the Italian air.” Y/N says, her eyes looking up at the sky.

“It's you.” Harry corrects her. “Your presence.”

“I'm sure it's just the Italian air.” Y/N says, looking down. She is afraid that if she looks at Harry, her feelings will be obvious and she doesn't want that.

“I'm serious.” Harry says, placing his hand on her chin and making her look at him.

“So am I.” Y/N whispers, her heart beating even faster.

“Then prove it.” Harry challenges her, his hand still on her chin.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Prove it.” Harry repeats, his eyes falling down to her lips again.

“How?” Y/N asks, her voice barely audible.

“Kiss me.” Harry whispers.

“Harry...” Y/N starts, shaking her head.

“Y/N.” Harry says, his voice firm. “Kiss me.”

[punkeccentricenigma]

DONATELLO X READER "a Night Ride"

Relationship status: Romantic Reader prounouns: She/Her Words: 2739 TW: Slight angst (I guess? I'm not sure), Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language. Author's note: Yooo, this is my first time writing a oneshot in the last few years, i'm kinda proud of it, lmao. Anyway, enjoy.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

The pale moonlight slightly illuminated the sky above, much like New York itself, adding to the charm of the colorful lights that refused to fade despite the late hour of the night.

The Turtle Tank gracefully maneuvered through the uncrowded streets, its loud engine echoing around, serving as an unspoken warning to pedestrians to watch their step when crossing the road. Two people were inside the vehicle: Donatello, who else? He usually didn't allow his brothers to take the tank without him because he knew how chaotic they could be and how they might destroy everything in their path. The only exception was when April needed help with Mayhem, and as a reward, she offered pizza. That's when Raph took the Turtle Tank. He didn't cause much damage to the vehicle's body, so the purple genius spared him a strong reprimand. This time.

The other person was [Y.N], another human acquaintance of the turtles. Why was she there? And at this hour? Well...

"I can't believe I had to pick you up at this hour because some guy stood you up!" Yes, that was the reason. You see, [Y.N] had a date scheduled for tonight with a guy from her school, which was supposed to take place at a restaurant on the other side of New York. She wasn't a fan of such fancy outings, but the excitement of the meeting had gotten to her, and that's how it ended up. She had waited for a few hours for the no-show date instead of going straight to her apartment and crying into her pillow. At least then, she would have had a slight chance of catching a taxi and not having to call Donatello, who was clearly annoyed. Tough luck.

"I'm not a fan of such vocabulary, oh, who am I kidding? I am, so I'll say it: Didn't I tell you!?" The purple enthusiast began waving his hands during his monologue, trying to express his emotions somehow. Right, Donnie had warned the teenager, and not just once. If she had to say anything now, she'd confess it lasted a whole week.

"[Y.N], going on a date with such a normie won't end well," Soft-shell casually declared, appearing out of nowhere in the kitchen. Well, maybe not 'nowhere,' as it was their base's kitchen, so he had every right to be there - but no one expected the turtle to emerge from his workshop.

The teenager had a puzzled look as she nibbled on one of the sandwiches she and Leo had made for their movie night. "Why?" She didn't want to dismiss Donatello; she knew he genuinely cared about her and was trying his best to help despite his quirks, but this was already the fourth 'rational' argument this week! "He's not Dale, so nothing more annoying can happen!"

"Sorry, but I disagree," his robotic arms unfolded a whiteboard with potential threat assessments or risky behaviors. [Y.N]'s eyes flattened to read the small font; was that Helvetica? "According to my calculations, the chance that this guy is not suitable for you is precisely 76.43 percent. Of course, this number didn't come out of thin air. It's based on a series of algorithms and data analyses I conduct every day. I take into account factors like communication and conflict resolution skills, emotional availability, attachment style, and even past behaviors. It's quite a sophisticated model, if I may say so." The science enthusiast's proud smile said it all.

"Wow."

"My calculations are always reliable, sure, sometimes I make mistakes, but not in matters like these!" It wasn't entirely true. Matters of the heart weren't Donatello's strong suit, which often led to friction between him and his family. Heck, even Doctor Delicate Touch had to help him when Shelldon went through his rebellious phase! But when it came to someone as close as [Y.N]? He didn't want to be wrong.

The girl bit her cheek from the inside, tilting slightly to the side as the turtle turned left again. Her eyes occasionally tracked the new streetlamp, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Don't tell me you're showing her that board," a red-slider turtle peeked out from behind the whiteboard. "Yeah, you're showing her." His eyes didn't express surprise, more like indifference to his righteousness.

Donatello rolled his black eyes, tucking the presentation back into his battle shell as Leonardo sidestepped him gracefully, grabbing a plate full of sandwiches. His gaze settled on the teenager, who had her back turned to him and was slightly bent over.

"You were snacking, weren't you?" [Y.N] twitched slightly at her friend's keen observation. She slowly turned her head towards Leo, her smile seeming somewhat embarrassed.

"No?"

"Spots around your mouth from mustard say something else," Leonardo pointed out, pointing with his finger. The embarrassed teenager chuckled softly, feeling her posture slightly break.

"Okay, you caught me!" Despite being in despair, her voice also conveyed false drama. "But what can I do when you make such awesome sandwiches?? You guys live in the sewers, after all!" Donnie chuckled quietly to himself, knowing where his friend picked up these habits. It might not be a matter of great pride, but it made an impression. "Well, give me another one!" Before anyone could react, the girl practically lunged at Leo to reach the plate of food he had deliberately moved away from himself.

"Nuh-uh, because there won't be enough for the others." He easily comically pushed his friend away and headed towards the exit, winking at his brother in passing. Donatello rolled his eyes, knowing what was going on. He wasn't happy about it, but there was nothing he could do about his (not) twin's foolishness, or at least he didn't want a repeat of the last time he meddled in his brothers' affairs.

Finally, his dark eyes settled on the girl, who chuckled with a smile. She wanted to wipe her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, but the mechanical hand had her wrist in its grip. "Huh?"

"Didn't your mom teach you good manners?" Donnie approached her, taking a single sheet of paper towel from the red kitchen countertop nearby.

"I repeat, you guys live in the sewers, so what I wanted to do is the least of your worries." [Y.N] laughed, trying in vain to free her hand from the scientist's robotic grasp. "Can you let me go, Dr. Octopus?"

When she attempted to jerk her wrist again, Donatello began gently wiping her lips with the paper towel in a slow, deliberate motion, getting narrowed pupils in response. The boy didn't have the courage to look into her eyes, despite the brave activity he was currently engaged in, especially when his thumb lingered at the corner of her mouth for a second longer than it should have.

Once he finished wiping, he took the paper and stepped back slightly, realizing what he had done. When they both locked eyes, warmth flooded their cheeks, and the shock added to the turtle's expression. It was clear who was more in control of their emotions here, hm?

The boy coughed abruptly, averted his gaze, and straightened up - he didn't even notice when he had been slouching. "Living in the sewers doesn't compromise my hygiene," he commented a bit too loudly, feeling his voice crack with each word. "I'd say it's Leo who's more likely to." He chuckled slightly, and the girl joined in. "Well, anyway! Movie marathon coming up, so, see you in a few minutes??" Since when was he feeling so hot?? "See you!" He finally shouted, panicking and fleeing the kitchen.

[Y.N] chuckled with a smile, covering the lower part of her face.

[Y.N] sighed shakily, covering the lower part of her face.

"Oh, for Newton's sake, I feel like punching someone! ... Is this how Raph usually feels when he looks at us?" The red light appeared on the traffic signal, reflecting off the dark Turtle Tank's body. When the boy stopped the vehicle for a moment, he heard quiet sobbing. Confused, he looked to the side and saw [Y.N], who had started crying uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry."

The turtle's eyes widened. Her voice seemed to slowly shatter like transparent glass between each tear drop, and her posture was completely destroyed as she bent in half on the soft seat, completely covering her face.

Donatello glanced out of the corner of his eye at the front windshield, wanting to check if the light had changed - it was still red, so he immediately got up and approached the girl, squatting by the seat. He didn't handle his emotions well, especially someone else's, but he felt a pang in the depths of his heart that he wanted to get rid of. With a slight hesitation, he placed his three-fingered hand on her back, gently moving it up and down - Splinter, and then Raphael often did this to comfort the science enthusiast when he struggled with something.

"I should have listened to you," the teenager began, "It was a mistake to hope for a good time with that person." The boy felt terrible. Yes, he had wanted to help her understand her mistake at the time, but he still hoped that despite his unpredictable intellect, he was wrong. "God, I just want to hide in my room and never come out."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault." Her eyes peeked out from behind her fingers. Donnie's eyebrows furrowed seeing [Y.N]'s bloodshot and red eyes. "Who would have thought he wouldn't show up after all?"

"You," she sighed heavily, straightening up. Her expression conveyed sorrow. "Your calculations turned out somewhat effective."

Donatello looked at her with empathy, trying to find the right words that could comfort her. He gently raised his hand and lightly tapped her shoulder, trying to convey support.

"Science... doesn't always get it right." [Y.N]'s eyes widened at his words. Why did he think that way? Science was practically one of Donnie's defining characteristics, it was unthinkable. Sure, Leo or Mikey might say that, but not him, not her genius acquaintance who would want to rule the world! [Y.N] was now certain that something was going on deep within him.

"What are you saying?" Her voice wasn't supposed to sound less casual, slightly mocking, but she couldn't help it. "Science doesn't get it right? That's so... illogical of you!"

Her eyes met his dark ones again, expressing strong uncertainty and... enchantment, quite enchantment. His face was perfectly illuminated by the city lights, causing a slight blush of astonishment on the teenager's face.

"Science doesn't always have it right," he repeated and stood upright. His fists were tightly clenched, and his posture was rigid. "And I'll prove it to you."

"How?"

His mouth opened for a second, but he closed it again, momentarily struggling with whether to confess one thing, but now there was no turning back, he had to do it. 'Calm down, Donatello, calm down...'

"When I calculated our 'compatibility,' the result came out excessively negative..." he began, trying with all his might not to take his eyes off the young girl. He didn't want his friend to think he was weird! Although, could there be anything weirder than a teenage mutant ninja turtle with a high IQ? "But... but I feel something else."

'Wait, he calculated our compatibility?' [Y.N] repeated in her thoughts, trying to understand the meaning of those words as quickly as possible. Compatibility. Compatibility... the teenager's blush deepened. 'Is he into me...?!'

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a touch. She felt the boy grab her hands in his, gently squeezing them.

"Numbers don't make sense in this situation," he began. "So... will you go on a date with me?" His voice seemed uncertain, not in terms of his words but about himself. As mentioned earlier, he was a mutated ninja turtle; what chance did he have? But for some time now, he couldn't resist the growing feelings for [Y.N], who, as one of the few, had gotten close to him and understood him. He knew how annoying he could be with his habits, strong sarcasm, or introverted nature, but it didn't bother her, at least most of the time, and he really appreciated that.

The silence stretched on infinitely, causing even greater nervousness on Donatello's part.

"... I've only just been dumped by one guy."

"Oh, right!" Donnie looked startled, like a deer in headlights. Yes, what an idiot! He should have thought this through, or at least used less direct words! How does it look now? "I'm sorry, this was inappropriate; we can forg--!"

"But I'll go." Another silence.

"..."

"..."

"What?"

"Well, you know, let's wait a week for today's emotions to settle," she smoothly took his wrists in her hands. Her smile, despite the slight nervousness of the situation, radiated a pleasant feeling, full of strange comfort, as if not judging him at all. "But after that, I'd be happy to go on a date with you."

Donatello seemed... disconnected. A million thoughts swirled in his mind. Was this real?

"Donnie?" He blinked a few times and looked at the person in front of him again. After a brief moment, he smiled, tilting his head slightly.

"Thanks." That's all he said, and the traffic light turned green. Without waiting, he took the driver's seat and drove on.

"So, on our date, maybe we can watch something? Like... Oppeinhamer?"

"Oh, you know me so well!"

Bonus:

"I'm in position, Tails," the nonchalant voice of the red-slider turtle was audible through a small communication device. [Y.N] chuckled softly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Donatello, with a grimace on his face, sat down next to her on the edge of the residential building's roof.

"My code name is 'Shadow,' Leo!" The turtle sighed heavily, furrowing his brows. "And no, it's not a reference to Sonic!"

"You can't fool me," Leonardo laughed, leaning out from behind the building's wall, sticking his tongue out in the same direction where the pair is.

"Be quiet, Bluey," this time [Y.N] spoke up, bringing the communicator closer to her lips. Seeing the gloomy expression on Leo's face instead of his usual smile, the pair burst into mocking giggles.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of the fact that I watched that show at 3 in the morning." The teenager muttered quietly, resting his weapon on his shoulder. "If you couldn't sleep, you'd watch it too!"

Donatello rolled his eyes, accompanied by his rare smile, and discreetly took the girl's hand. Meanwhile, [Y.N] gently rested her head on his shoulder, giggling again.

"Wasn't your code name 'Purple Knight' by any chance?" She asked, lightly moving her feet.

"It was, but you know, most changes are good, and I'm getting older, so it's natural that I change my nickname~."

The girl raised one eyebrow slightly, adjusting her position a bit to look at Donnie. He met her gaze, which weakened after a moment, and a hint of embarrassment appeared on his forehead.

"FINE, maybe it is a reference to Sonic!" He declared loudly, gesturing. "I've been catching up on Sonic Prime lately; you can't blame me!"

[Y.N] burst into laughter, hugging the boy. For the first few seconds, his body stiffened, but after a while, he put his arm around her. However, out of the corner of his eye, Donatello noticed someone walking on the sidewalk.

"It is Shadow. Bluey, stay alert, the target is approaching," he said through the headset, putting on his special goggles.

"Mhm."

The target was the same boy who had stood [Y.N] up a few weeks earlier on the day of their almost date. Yes, it was Donatello's idea, wanting to seek revenge for his almost-partner.

"Now, Bluey!"

Leonardo leaped out from behind the wall, right in front of the unsuspecting boy who needed a few seconds to grasp the situation.

"Hey, buddy, how's life treating you?" The turtle asked with a malicious grin.

"A talking turtle?!"

"One who happens to be an awesome ninja!" He chuckled, swinging his sword. After a brief moment, a bright blue portal appeared beneath the teenager.

His scream lasted only a nanosecond as he disappeared into the blue void, eliciting laughter from Leonardo. "Have a nice trip to New Jersey~!"

[enjoythesilentworld]

WILLE'S MONTH 2024

(intothelight / @enjoythesilentworld)

Day 1: Sandwich (G, 450)

Wille has a lot of feelings about sandwiches. (It's not about the sandwiches).

Day 2: Summer (T, 800)

Summer School AU where Simon is there to catch up before starting at a new, fancy school and Prince Wilhelm is there because he really can’t be bothered to pay attention in class, much less do his homework. (That is, until he meets Simon.)

Day 3: Literature (M, 1k)

“I thought you were a literature student?” “This is literature!” Wille is a very serious literature student, thank you very much.

Day 4: (Dance Dance) Revolution (T, 1.2k)

the gang celebrates. wille gets his first glimpse at normal.

Day 5: Cooking/Baking (G, 700)

Kristina finds Wille in the kitchens.

Day 6: Video Games (T, 1.4k)

Wille meets Simon at an open mic night. AU.

Day 7: Erik (T, 1.4k)

A story of siblings in three parts.

Day 8: Engagement (T, 1.5k)

Wille asks Simon to marry him. Simon says no.

Day 9: Riding (T, 900)

Wille really enjoys his morning.

Day 10: Secret (T, 2.5k)

3 secrets Simon can’t keep from Wille and 1 secret he can, until he can’t. An idiots to lovers AU.

Day 11: Future (T, 800)

Wilhelm writes a letter to himself. 

Day 12: Social Media (G, 350)

Wilhelm finally gets to run his own social media with no insight from the Royal Court.

Day 13: Lake (T, 1k)

The boys go to the lake. (Wille's POV)

Day 14: Mental Health (T, 900)

Wille steps down. Kristina steps up.

Day 15: Fashion/Style (T, 1.4k)

AU. Crown Prince Wilhelm finally meets his favorite artist, Simon Eriksson, at the Met Gala.

Day 16: Friends (G, 1.5k)

Wille and Simon are very, very good friends, indeed. 

Day 17: Joy (M, 1.2k)

Wille brings the pancakes to Simon. A joyous morning. 

Day 18: Soulmates (T, 800)

Wille, fully crossfaded and face down on the football field, sees some things.  Or, Wille sees his and Simon's lives laid out, intertwining across every universe. 

Day 19: Frogs (M, 1.3k)

Wille and Simon go camping. It goes better than last time. Mostly.

Day 20: Movie (G, 1.1k)

Simon makes Wille a home movie. Or, Wilmon Girl Dads return. 

Day 21: Family (Dinner) (T, 700)

A glimpse at the Royal Family’s dinner table over the years.

Day 22: (After) Party (M, 2k)

After meeting at the Met Gala, Wilhelm follows Simon to an afterparty. AU.

Day 23: Freedom (G, 800) 

Wille and Simon go out to enjoy a nice, summer day in town. Something is weird, though, and they can’t quite place what it is.

Day 24: Vacation (M, 1.4k)

Wille and Simon have different ideas about what “vacation” means.

Day 25: Hands (M, 1.1k)

Everyone’s been trying to get their hands on Wilhelm all his life. 

Day 26: Date (T, 1k)

Wille meets 'S' at a bar. They exchange a few notes. 

Day 27: Dream (E, 1.7k)

Wille has a dream. He very much needs to tell Simon about it.

Day 28: Birthday (T, 1.9k)

Wille gets a real kid’s birthday.

Day 29: Music (Room) (T, 2k)

Ex-Prince Wilhelm, hoping to escape the turmoil following the end of the monarchy, enrolls in university in New York City. He meets fourth-year music student Simon Eriksson in a music room on campus. AU.

Day 30: Fairytale (G, 1.7k)

The lonely prince finds a lamp with the power to fix all his problems.

Day 31: Voicemail (Free Day) (G, 800)

A collection of voicemails left by Wille.