#mise en place masterlist

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Mise en Place, Chapter 4

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness, no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, things gone get SPICY later 🔥 (aka smut in future chapters)

Word Count: ~2600

A/N: Here we are with another update!

Divider by the phenomenally talented @theradioactivespidergwen!

Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @capylore @mattmurdockstateofmind @yarrystyleeza

“New text message.”

Matt finished blending the batch of Daredevil's house salad dressing he was currently preparing and put it in the fridge to set before pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen.

He smiled when his phone announced that the text was from you.

“Thank you so much for the flowers,” it read off to him. “They're beautiful. By the way I'm thinking of you too and also can't wait to see you again. Heart emoji.”

Matt's smile widened into a grin. He had spent thirty minutes at the florist this morning trying to choose the perfect bouquet of flowers to send to you and come up with the perfect message to go on the accompanying card.

“Ooh, heart emoji,” Foggy teased good-naturedly from over at the sink. “You two must've had a really good time last night.”

Matt chuckled. “Not in the way you're insinuating, but yeah, we did.”

“And? Tell me all about your evening with your woman.”

“One second.” Matt hit the reply button and dictated, “I'm glad you like them, smile emoji” before sending his response.

He put his phone away and moved back to the prep counter to peel potatoes for the day's batch of gnocchi. “Okay, so…”

He began to recount his evening with you to Foggy, from the hug the two of you had shared when you had first arrived at Matt's apartment, to holding your hand while you went up to the roof and your gasp of delight at the decor, and the long conversation that you two had shared during dinner. “We talked for so long that I almost forgot about dessert, so rather than having her wait upstairs while I finished making it I suggested that we just have dessert downstairs, which she said she was fine with.”

He smiled at the memory. His original plan had been for the two of you to have dessert on the roof then head downstairs to cuddle on Matt's couch, but he had to admit that the alternative had been quite enjoyable as well. “She also said that she likes watching me cook, even if I'm just making whipped cream in a mixer.”

Foggy joined Matt at the prep table to start peeling and chopping some carrots. “Aww, that's sweet, although I think it's more of the fact that it's you making it, buddy.”

Matt grinned. “Anyway, I had been wanting to kiss her all night but hadn't really had the opportunity, so while we were having dessert I told her she had chocolate mousse on her mouth and made my move.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Matthew Murdock, you smooth sonofabitch.”

Matt shrugged. “Turns out I wasn't that smooth, because right after I kissed her she asked how I knew she had something on her face.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh shit, what'd you say? She doesn't know about your freakishly sensitive senses, does she?”

Matt shook his head. Foggy and Karen both knew about how the chemicals that had blinded him had also enhanced his remaining senses far beyond normal human capabilities, but he wasn't comfortable sharing that information with you quite yet. “No, I’ve only told her that my palate became sensitive after the accident and that's how I got into cooking.”

“So then what'd you say?”

“She didn't really have any chocolate mousse on her mouth, so I told her that I didn't actually know and had just wanted to kiss her.” Matt grinned. “She said I didn't need to make up a reason to try to kiss her, so I took that as permission to kiss her again and we wound up making out like teenagers in my kitchen.”

Foggy lightly bumped Matt with his shoulder. “Yeah, go Matty.”

Matt shook his head. “Anyway, needless to say that the evening turned out really well, so I told her in no uncertain terms that I wanted to see her again then walked her home and kissed her good night.”

“And bought her flowers this morning.”

“Yeah.” 

Foggy stopped chopping. “You know, I know things haven't been easy for you since She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I'm honestly really glad to see you happy.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, Fog.”

While you genuinely seemed to enjoy watching Matt cook and didn't mind having to wait while he finished preparing and plating your meals, Elektra had never been one to be willing to wait for her food or hang around the kitchen -- she had always wanted her meals fully prepared and ready to eat before she sat down for a dinner date and refused to be Matt's taste-tester whenever he was experimenting with new recipes. “Honestly, Matthew,” she had said the first and only time he had asked her to taste-test for him. “I have much better things to do with my time than to sit there and watch you play around in the kitchen.”

In hindsight, Matt should've realized that Elektra had been using him. You, however… 

You were genuine. I don't want to have to wait until later to ask her out again.

He set his vegetable peeler down. “I'll be right back.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Tell her hi for me.”

Matt grinned and headed to the office, pulling his phone out of his pocket in order to call you.

“... Anonymous sources tell the Bulletin that the surprise inspection stemmed from a report of food poisoning originating at the restaurant. Requests for comment from owner and executive chef Wilson Fisk were not returned by press time.”

Skyler huffed out a laugh as you finished reading your story about Kingpin's closure out loud. “Pretty easy to fact-check when we're the ‘anonymous sources’, isn't it?”

You grinned. “Plus we got an exclusive.”

You paused as your phone rang, Matt's name flashing across the screen. “Oh, hold on a second. It's Matt.”

You answered. “Hello?”

Matt said your name. “Hi.”

You couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Matt.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all. I'm just finishing up an article to send to my boss for approval.”

Skyler lightly tapped on your desk and mouthed, “I'll talk to you later.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“So what's your article about?” Matt asked.

“Kingpin's closure,” you replied. “It's just a short thing for the online edition since we weren't able to make the print one this morning. We're late reporting about it but at least we have information that the other publications don't about what triggered the closure.”

“Ah, yeah, Foggy did say that Skyler mentioned that the Bulletin was covering that.” Matt paused. “Hey, um, speaking of Kingpin, I don't know if you can mostly write about whatever you want or if your boss assigns all of your articles, but major violations like the ones that got Kingpin shut down don't just happen overnight, so if you're able and have time you might want to dig into their past health inspection records and see if anything looks funny to you.”

Your eyes widened. Matt could possibly be handing you a major scoop. “Are you saying that you think they were falsified?”

“I honestly can't say for certain,” Matt replied hesitantly. “ But there's been rumblings within the industry for years about Fisk being involved in a lot of shady and underhanded dealings, so it really wouldn't surprise me if it turned out that he had someone at the Health Department on his payroll.”

You were pretty sure that the health department’s inspection records were publicly available, but even if they weren't you would easily be able to file a request through the Bulletin . “My boss does assign some of my articles, but he gives me enough autonomy to where I can at least look into it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Matt paused. “Anyway, that's not actually why I called. I was wondering if maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow? Say around noon?”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of getting to see Matt again so soon -- you honestly hadn't expected him to have time for you until the weekend at the very least. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to.”

“Great! I thought maybe we could go to that little park near the Bulletin , have a picnic then take a quick walk together if there's time?”

You knew which park Matt was referring to -- you occasionally took walks along the walking path there on your lunch break when you needed to escape from the chaos of the office for a bit. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, and one other thing. I wanted to let you know that business at the restaurant has already picked up thanks to your article -- we got 12 reservations overnight just for this evening alone, and I'm sure at least a few more have come in since Foggy checked the reservation system this morning.”

You grinned. You had hoped that your article would help get the word out about Daredevil. “Oh my gosh, Matt, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you.”

“Thanks. And actually I have to run so I can get back to helping Foggy with prep since we know we'll be busier than usual, but I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. And I'll let you know if I find anything that seems suspicious about Kingpin's health inspection records.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Talk to you later. Bye, Matt.”

“Bye.”

You hung up, a smile on your face.

You read over your Kingpin article one more time before emailing it to Ellison, then got up and headed to his office. 

You knocked on his open door. “Hey, Mitch, you got a second?”

Ellison looked up from an article he was proofreading. “Yeah, what's up?”

“I wanted to let you know that I just sent you the article on the Kingpin shutdown, but I also received a tip that Wilson Fisk may have been bribing employees at the health department to falsify their inspection reports.”

Ellison's eyebrows raised. “Holy shit, really?”

You nodded. “Chef Murdock told me that there's been talk in the culinary industry for years about Fisk engaging in shady business practices and that the health code violations that triggered Kingpin's shutdown don't just happen overnight, so he suspects that Fisk had people from the health department on his payroll. It seems like it's worth at least looking into, so I figured I could submit a public records request for Kingpin's health inspection reports to see if I notice any kind of discrepancies.”

Ellison thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. Let me know what you find and we'll proceed from there.”

“Okay, thanks. I will.”

You returned to your desk and pulled up the website for the New York Health Department, then submitted an online request for hardcopies of Kingpin's health inspection records.

You smiled as the bouquet of roses Matt had sent you caught your eye once again.

It had been an incredibly kind and sweet gesture and needless to say that you were definitely looking forward to your lunch date with Matt the next day. Yeah, he's nothing like Kelsie had made him out to be.

“Hey, so what did Chef Hottie want?” Skyler said as she stopped by your desk. “Did he ask you out on another date?”

You shook your head with a grin. “Okay, first off, can you please start calling him Matt? I don't know how Foggy would feel hearing the woman he's dating referring to his best friend-slash-business partner as ‘Chef Hottie’.”

Skyler laughed. “Okay, fine. Did Matt ask you out on another date?”

You nodded. “As a matter of fact, he did. We're having lunch together at the park down the street tomorrow.”

Skyler wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, a picnic lunch. How romantic.”

“He also said that the restaurant got a boost in reservations yesterday.”

Skyler huffed out a relieved breath. “Oh, good. I know Foggy had been worried about that.”

“Matt too.” You thought about telling Skyler what Matt had suspected regarding Kingpin's health inspection records, but decided to keep it to yourself until you knew if there was actually any weight to it. “I was thinking about picking up some dinner from Daredevil tonight but I don't want to bother him, especially if they're extra busy.”

Skyler shrugged. “How about drinks after work instead? We can hit up happy hour at that new library-themed bar near my place, fill up on wine and appetizers, gossip about our guys.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Okay, great. I've got to go cover the Rotary Club’s monthly luncheon, but I'll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay.” You winked. “Don’t have too much fun.”

Skyler shook her head with a smile. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll try.”

You grinned as Skyler headed out on assignment. Last week may have been a shit show, but this one was definitely looking up.

[floweringlino]

Shared passion | L.M

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 ; A chef losing his passion for his occupation and a right hand that is losing respect for the person that taught her all she knows.

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; Chef!Minho x SousChef!Reader

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ; Mention of knives, slight aggression, loss of passion, mention of burn out, slight angst, fluff, suggestive

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ; 2,3k

The Gods Menu Masterlist

✎ ❀

"Alright everyone, we can start Mise en place in a second. There are some things that we need to discuss before we start and i'd like everyone to listen." The girl gathered the attention from her colleagues around her, a hand shot up from the back.

"Yes Felix?"

"Where's Chef?" The pastry chef de partie calmly asked, not to piss his sous chef off

"I don't know Lix, we'll see him show up somewhere today. If you need to ask something important about work you can ask me."

"Yes Chef”

Another hand shot up from the crowd. It was the intern. He had been at the restaurant for about 8 months, nearing his exames.

"Anything I can help with Jeongin?"

"Maybe Chef, I had a meeting with Chef at 12.00 about school, what can I do if he doesn't show up?"

"I'll talk to you after debrief, is that okay?" To which he responded with a polite nod.

"Okay now the points of today, first of, today all of you will do as much as possible without mine of Chefs help. Its time to show us what you’re all capable off, that doesn't count for our Interns." All responded with a yes chef.

"Secondly, Changbin. I would like to ask you politely to stop making the Interns clean up your mess. Jeongin is here to learn. I don't need him filling piping bags because you're too lazy to do it yourself. Han,  Jeongin is not your personal Carrot scrapper. Do it yourself." Both men responded with another yes chef and looked down to the floor in embarrassment.

"Three, i will first be carving the meat, after that i will be in the office, working on the fall menu, got any ideas, share them with me. I'd love some of your input."

"Lunch, 30 people, two times no pork. One person gluten-free, and 5 people confirmed vegetarian. Does everyone know what that entails for each partie?" Another yes chef.

"Alright everyone, it's a beautiful day to make some people smile. Let's start Mise en place. Jeongin come with me." The intern followed her into the restaurant where they sat down at one of the tables.

"Talk to me honey." She spoke kindly

"Well you see, i have my exam next month and I still need to do one more assignment before i qualify for the national exams. But i need a superior to sign it."

"And you worry because Chef hasn't been around much." To which he responded with a shy nod.

"I'll get him to sign it. Do you have the paperwork here?" He nodded and gave the papers.

"You'll have it tomorrow, now you do your work. There's a lot to learn from the guys today, try to keep an eye on everything." He nodded happily and went back into the kitchen.  Y/N dropped her head in her hands and her elbows rested on the table bellow her. A deep sigh left her mouth just as Chan entered the restaurant.

Chan and Minho had opened the restaurant together, two weeks after opening Minho called Y/N to become her sous chef.

"Whats the matter?”

"Min is not showing up I think."

Chan sat down next to her putting a caring hand on her shoulder.

"I know its hard but he's going through a bit of a rough path. Don't love faith in him."

"I'll try" she nodded at him, understanding his words.

She went back into the kitchen and did what she did best, cooking her ass off.

At 12 lunch started rolling in but still no Minho to be seen. She called him but was met with a sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

"What?"

"Get your ass here and help me with the new fall menu."

"Why would I?"

"Uhm excuse me what the fuck? What do you mean why would I? Your kitchen, your staff, your mess."

"Whatever, I'll be there in 20."

"You better." And she hung up on him. He did keep his word as 20 minutes later he walked into the restaurant. Not in his work clothes but in his sweatpants and Tshirt.

Y/N wishes everyone a goodluck with service and with that she left to the office, dragging her chef with her.

"I need you to sign this." She shoved Jeongin's papers in his hands.

"Whats this?"

"Your interns papers. Or did you forget you had a meeting with him today at 12?" He smacked his own face which made it clear that he had indeed forgotten. Later that day they had gotten nowhere with the new menu, only arguing and head butting.

Y/N picked up her stuff and stormed out of the office. She made her was to the kitchen with her notepad. Minho running after her.

"Hyunjin, you're in charge for tonight. I need to get the fuck out of here. It's 10 people, will you be okay?"

"Of course I will! Thank you for this opportunity, Chef."

Minho didn't like that answer even one bit.

"Y/N is not your chef so you will not refer to her as such."

She angrily spun around to face him.

"“You are such a fucking asshole, you haven’t shown your face in days and now you do this? You know, i used to admire you but i have lost all respect i ever had for you in this moment. You sad excuse of a leader. You don’t even know what is going on in your own kitchen.”

And with that she left

~

Later that evening Y/N was preparing food for the new menu in her own home. Thought flew through her head and she wrote all of it down, even if some things didn't make any sense. Multiple people for work had texted her their ideas and those also made their way onto her papers.

Her mind wondered to how it all was 10 years ago, she was still an intern at a Michelin star restaurant, freshly turned 18. Completely overwhelmed and extremely confused. It was there where she met Chan and Minho. Chan was just a simple waiter back then but Minho, he was everything the admired about the job.

He had the confidence, the admiration and most importantly he had more passion for his work than everyone around her combined. She looked up to him, started watching his techniques, following his movements. He quickly noticed and took her under his wing. Of course she had learned a lot school but Minho had learned her everything she knew.

He learned her how to use her creativity. He showed her the best techniques, took her to the most important seminars. He made her follow the most interesting courses. Together they rose to the top

Intern, chef de partie

Chef de partie, Junior sous chef

Junior sous chef, sous chef

And now they were at the end of their road. A year ago she knew for sure that there was still so much he could learn her but then he stopped showing up. Y/N had to figure out how to do it without him and it hurt her.

Even a simple bystander could see it. Guests asked Chan about it? Were they together? A normal person saw love but it was so much more than that. It was shared looks of respect, passion and admiration.

Her lonely thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Only after that she noticed the single tear that had rolled down her cheek oh so dramatically. She wiped it away and opened her Front door.

A face full of regret was what she was met with. Both didn't know how to start a conversation so after a couple awkward second of silence, Y/N just gestured for him to come inside of her home.

"I still remember when you still lived with your parents. Now you own a home and have pets."

"Well im not 18 anymore, and you're not 19 anymore. What are you doing here Minho?" She wasn't interested in his small talk. Why did he come to her house at midnight.

"Okay, uhm. How do I start this" he took a couple of seconds before continuing. "Im sorry."

"Explain to me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I'm sorry for letting you down. What can I do to make it up to you?"

She couldn't help but look deep into his eyes. She used to always be able to tell what was going on inside his head but something was blocking it. So she did the one thing what made them a team.

"Cook with me?" She pointed her head to her kitchen where a messy kitchen was displayed. He nodded happily and accepted the apron she handed him. He smiled as he held the fabric in his hand, the logo of his old job looking back at him. She stole it from them. The place that brought them together.

"You kept this?"

"Of course I did. I had the best time of my life there. It's where I met you." She smiled kindly at him, a smile he hadn't received in a couple of months and he couldn't help stare.

"So what are you gonna do."

"You're gonna do what you do best, debone this pheasant."

"Where did you get a pheasant?"

"I have my sources."

And they cooked, they wrote down their ideas and ended the night with a perfect new menu. They were a team and for the first time in a while Minho had found his joy back in the kitchen.

Gradually the cooking came to an end and the scenery changed for the kitchen to the living room.  A opened bottle of wine and deep conversation was where the night was headed.

Minho sat on the couch normally, and Y/N sat next to him but her legs over his. First he wondered if it was the alcohol speaking to him but only now he realised how dumb he had been. Looking in her eyes he realised something.

"I'm gonna start going to therapy I think. Maybe they can help me with my burn out."

"Im proud of you, Min."

"Im proud of you too. I had lost my passion, I felt completely burnt out and tired. And today I realised that it was still there. You made me realise." His finger traced the side of her head and shrugged leaned into his touch.

"Im sorry for pushing you aside and im sorry if i have caused you any pain. I have been horrible to you when you have shown me nothing but kindness from the beginning." His hand moved along her jawline, shyly she looked away but that was not gonna happen like that.with his hand on her chin he lead her face back to his. Their eyes interlocked, Minho leaned closer. His eyes darting towards his lips.

"Minho wait." He stopped and they rested their fore heads against each other.

"Do you want this or is this the alcohol? Because if its not real I don't know if I can do this." She started tearing up but before she could she got her response.

"I don't what this, i need this. I need to hold you, i need to have you. I've waited 10 years for this moment and I'm never gonna let you go." And with that confirmation he presses his soft lips against hers. Soft and tender. He wanted to take in every second of the moment, as they could only get one first kiss. It brought comfort and happiness. A longing that was finally fulfilled. After a soft kiss of a couple of seconds both pulled away.

"I've been in love with you for 10 years, Y/N."

"I've been in love with you too, Min."

He dove back into his kiss happily, smiling into it as he wrapped his arms around her, his arms sliding halfway underneath her hoodie.

"You're so beautiful, i could do this all day with you." She giggled into the kiss which gave him the opportunity to add a little bit of tongue into it which she happily accepted. Her hands wondered to the bottom of his shirt which was quickly taken of in a swift motion, along with many other pieces of clothing. They fell asleep of the couch after that and when Minho woke up at 9 he traced her naked shoulders.

"Wake up my love, we need to go to work." He pressed a kiss against her forehead with care. She humbled.

"Are we going together? Your coming with me?"

"I am. Its time for you to give me back my position."

"Gladly, being chef is fucking tiring."

"Be my Co-Chef? We'll do it together."

"You sure?"

"Id love for you too, the team listens to you. Im not there yet with them. Respect is something you need to earn and i haven't proved myself to them yet."

"You have proven it to me."

He turned to his girl as they made their way to work.

"Are you officially mine now?"

"I've always been yours."

Apparently there are more places for people to find their passion. Sometimes you just need to find the perfect person to help you with it.

Passion is in everyone, even if you can't see it so closely. Chase your dreams and don't be afraid to do new things.

Do the things that make you happy the most.

[flowerfreya]

Chef , I-

This is the third part to Yes, Chef

Pairing- Simon "Ghost" Reilly x Reader

Content: Simon is a dick but we already knew that

Simon is being meaner than usual to you. You haven’t messed up any order per say but the restaurant did get new front house people that have been confusing the tables and sending back food , which is causing the kitchen to back up. 

“What the fuck is going on out there”, he barks at you. 

“I’m sorry,Chef”, you want to say more. To defend yourself but you know it would just make his temper worse. 

Another new waiter comes in carrying an entree that the line cooks just fired. He looks scared but he walks over to Simon,”Chef,this table said that they already have their food”, Simon looks ready to blow a gasket.

“They already have their food” , he mutters under his breath.

You have been working for Simon for enough time that you know someone is about to get screamed at. You try to duck away but his gaze catches you and has you frozen. “Chef, I-”,

“Are you stupid?”, he interjects. 

You look from side to side in the kitchen hoping for anyone to help you but everyone is very interested in chopping the mise en place. 

“Don’t look at them”, he moves closer, craning his neck down trying to catch your eyes again, “look at me”. 

“No chef”, you whisper. 

“I didn’t think so, I don’t think the GM would hire stupid people”, he opens his arms wide,”yet here we are”, he points to the doors where people are still entering and exiting. 

“Get out”

You look at him, he can’t be serious. He just hooked up with you before dinner service and now he’s kicking you out. For fucks sake you sucked him off just forty minutes ago. 

“What?”

“I said GET OUT”, he shouts, pointing at the door. 

You're in disbelief. This can’t be happening, it wasn’t even in your section. You were doing perfect tonight. The tips,amazing. All your customers were nice. He wasn’t being fair. Your pissed but honestly a little embarrassed.Why you thought that Simon would treat you different, you should have known. 

You rush to the back to get your purse and jacket and go out the employees only exit, which is really the back of the restaurant where the trash and oil bin is. You have tears in your eyes. Your not clocking out, fuck that. He wants to send you away before your shift is over , then he can pay for it. 

You are still getting your life together, when someone steps out from the shadows and scares the shit out of you. 

“You alright, honey”

Masterlist

[morownic]

now one is too many, but it’s never enough

Don’t tell me you’re happy, because this isn’t love. (So be careful what you wish for.)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns, mentions/implications of drug overdose and alcohol abuse

prev. // next — series masterlist · my other works · ao3

a/n: there is a specific feeling im trying to convey while writing this and its the vibe from oh no (peep the chorus lawl) and just kiss her (this one esp in the prom scene + only friend tbh) so i do recommend listening to them while reading this part! so far my writing is very narrative based, i need to work on writing dialogues lol

Surreal was one way to describe the mise en scene before him; Ken felt as if he had and had not seen this before, and that unease pooling in his stomach threatened to grow into constant anxiety as he stayed still.

Now, Ken was just seated on one of the VIP tables near the far back of that same club in Shibuya, the one some of his more rowdy teammates had dragged him to after signing his contract with the Giants, leaning back against the cushion with his left arm on top of the backrest and his right hand holding a glass of whiskey. He was nodding along to whatever Fucile was saying, obscured by the loud music, and it wasn’t long until the foreign player was called into a different conversation by another teammate. Ken took a sip of his liquor to soothe the gnawing coldness in his chest, one he couldn’t quite tell if it was because the beat of the music only served to louden his silence, because he felt out of place even in a room full of people who had practically revered him, or because that feeling reminded him of something from the past that he could not and would rather not recall just yet. Under the dim, multicolored lighting and amidst the thumping of the bass that rivaled his heartbeat, Ken hoped that no one caught on his restlessness while he downed his whiskey in one go, trying to figure out just what was making him restless in the first place.

Realization didn’t hit him like a truck when he saw her approaching the table where he and his teammates were seated, the sleeves of her dress shirt rolled up to her elbows and its first two buttons undone. She was holding her own glass of whiskey as she walked toward his direction without breaking eye contact, her gaze stone-cold and too unreadable for someone who had laid herself bare for him in the past. She looked even more beautiful under this kind of lighting, he thought, and he immediately remembered all those times he had seen her just like this. Still, realization didn’t pour and wash over him like cold water, and he wished it would, because it hurt even more when it didn’t, because it meant that he had been through this one too many times. Instead, it dawned on him slowly, like when he stood in front of her house with a corsage in one hand and a bouquet in the other and somehow understood that she, dressed in a gown that he thought made her outshine an angel, could never be his. It dawned on him slowly, like when he felt as if the world had slowed when she turned around after he hesitantly called out her name, her eyes gleaming in recognition yet her body unmoving from the hold of another guy whose name he couldn’t even remember while he was just there. It dawned on him that what he was feeling was just not the dread that came with feeling out of place in a world that both sang his praises and damned him with faint praise; it was this dread of knowing that, even in her world, he was still out of place.

“Sato.”

It was his first time in almost half a decade hearing her address him by name, and his first time ever hearing her address him by his surname and an honorific. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy that she remembered him or if he should pick the pieces of his heart that broke when she called him with such a degree of unfamiliarity.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” she continued. “You have an injury.”

Her hair was a little tousled, and under the dim lighting, he could barely tell that she hadn’t bothered to cover up her imperfections, something that she would have only done around him in the past. There was only a hint of red on her lips that had begun to fade, with a slight smudge on the left corner of her lips that made his mind wonder. He asked himself how the hell he could even see that and, out of habit, whether she had just left some dingy restroom after a quick hookup with some guy he didn’t even want to know. There were other times when he saw her like this, he thought, all pretty and cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol and practically glowing in the dark and always too far from his reach and never, ever his.

Ken Sato could be a selfish, selfish man; he could have anything in the world, what with how good-looking, well-off, and exalted he was. Yet, she was his first real lesson in ‘You can’t always get what you want.’

“Oh–huh?”

There was a scowl on her face as she leaned in across the table, and Ken could only think about how she still wore the same perfume all these years. He was growing lightheaded from her scent, failing to notice the way his teammates were staring at the exchange between them. There were too many thoughts running in his head at that moment. One was that, of course, she smelled as good as she looked, and it only brought the memories of nights spent in either of their bedrooms to the forefront of his mind. Then, there was the more rational thought of ‘How the hell did she know I was injured?’ that he interjected with another thought of ‘Anyone could tell, dumbass.’ And then, there was this awful, gut-wrenching realization that whatever this was, it was real. What was happening before him, the feelings suffocating his chest—all of them were real. His past with her and the present day where she made her way into his life again were not just one bad dream.

He hated it.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you,” she snarled, and he didn’t know why. Vexation he understood, but resentment he did not. If anything, he should have been the one resenting her to death. But he couldn’t, could never. Not even with how egomaniacal he could be, not even with how he felt entitled to rage at the fact that she left him for Japan, just like his father did.

So, for the first time in a while, Ken found himself at a loss for words and only watched as she stood up and turned to address his teammates, her posture much more composed albeit with an air of disdain that was just as telling as his was—that they were both raised in a much different culture on the other side of the world. He briefly wondered if everyone else also damned her for it. He was, however, taken aback by her curt and polite forty-five degree bow toward his teammates, another contrast to her behavior toward him, as she spoke to his teammates in a much calmer and more dignified manner.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

He couldn’t find the courage to stop her as she excused herself and downed her whiskey in one go before disappearing into the crowd. It felt just like this, he thought. He would look at her, realize that there was no way anyone in the world could fill the hole in his heart when it was shaped to her exact likeness, and had to come to terms that, no, even she could not fill that hole. Ken, too, found himself pouring another shot that he downed in one go, hoping that the alcohol could at least outburn the pain searing in his chest. (It couldn’t.)

“Did you know her or something?” Fucile’s question pulled Ken out of his pity party, and he barely registered it as he craned his neck only slightly toward his teammate’s direction, eyes still glued to the empty glass he was holding.

Ken didn’t want to reveal that he did know her for several reasons. He didn’t want to get hurt again, and he selfishly thought maybe, just maybe, if he had kept some semblance of distance and indifference toward her, it could affect her just as much as it had affected him. But even if he wasn’t going to admit it himself, he knew that wouldn’t happen because she still had him wrapped around her finger even after all these years. He thought of the lonely nights he spent thinking about where she was, who he was to her, what they could have been. So his mind settled on the next best—or worst, depending on how you look at it—reason: that even if they were “friends,” even if the arrangement they had was a measure of closeness, even if they had laid themselves bare to each other, with him placing her in his heart next to his mother, there were days when he felt as if he barely knew anything about her, and now, it felt like he probably never did.

“Oh, no,” Ken exclaimed with a little exaggeration, to compensate for the silence that brought the attention of his other teammates. He shook his head, trying to ease the awkwardness and hide his unease by pouring himself yet another serving of whiskey and taking a sip of it. He hoped that his teammates would stop looking at him with suffocating scrutiny.

“We just went to the same high school.”

For the past four years, you found that it had become increasingly hard to put up a proper facade. There was no use for it at home; you no longer lived in Los Angeles where everyone thought you were perfect, and you no longer had to play the role of the good daughter anymore because your parents were long gone. Very few people had ever seen you past the pretense of the popular valedictorian. Your and Kenji’s mothers had passed away, you hadn’t spoken to your college roommate turned friend turned strangers after your falling-out, and he broke your heart into pieces that you had yet to pick up and glue together again to this day. There was another one, if you count his daughter as an extension of himself, which you did at some point as you bitterly laughed at the realization and irony that you could never get rid of him from your world, no matter how many times you tried to. But then you grew to love your daughter too much, even more so than you loved yourself, to think of her as a mere byproduct of failed love, and you didn’t want to turn out like your mother nor did you want your daughter to end up like you.

So, you named her after his mother instead—Emi—because you didn’t want to name your own daughter after your mother, who once invited some bashful younger man that came out of the foyer with disheveled hair, shirt untucked, and pants unzipped while she was lounging in the living room in her underwear, a glass of wine in hand, as she watched another episode of Love Island. Although everything about your daughter would inevitably and endlessly remind you of him, you still did what your mother had taught you best: curse the existence of the man who had taken away and given everything to you.

It was why contempt naturally came and etched itself on your face the moment you saw Kenji Sato since the last time you exchanged bitter words in front of that old diner somewhere in downtown Los Angeles. Years of trying to erase every trace of his existence went down in the drain, because the moment you saw him, you could only think about ‘What if we fuck it up again?’ knowing very well that there was nothing left between the two of you to even fuck up. You spent your first observation of the Giants during practice with a sour expression when you thought no one was looking at you. If Kenji was wondering to himself why he even left his career with the Dodgers behind for a father that was never there, then you were wondering to yourself why you had to come to Japan to escape from someone who ended up always being there anyway. You thought of what to say if he came up to you, or whether or not you should tell him that he had a child he didn’t even know of. All of that was put aside when you moved away from your conversation with Coach Shimura as he nodded in Kenji’s direction, when all you could feel at that moment was deep, indescribable longing and sadness that gnawed at your bones yet your face could only contort into an expression of scorn.

The next day, you didn’t come to practice for another observation, choosing to watch the game recordings in the comfort of your home and your daughter’s company. It was the first time in a while that you couldn’t look your daughter in the eyes properly because she reminded you of that doe-eyed boy you met in sophomore year of high school, and you were glad that she was at least preoccupied with talking your ears off about her new friends.

“The team is here, too,” a voice, one that you recognized had belonged to your senior shortly afterward, pulled you out of your train of thought. “Try to smile when you mingle, okay?”

Ms. Kudo—‘Just call me Eri,’ she said—was less uptight and less traditional compared to some of your previous colleagues. You didn’t know if it was because you were closer in age, because Eri was being considerate of your background as someone who spent almost half of her life in the States, or because she was just simply that carefree of a person compared to the typical office workers that you knew. She reminded you a bit of your roommate in college, and your heart tightened a little at the thought. Still, you weren’t sure how you ended up going along with your senior’s whims, or how you could even get your neighbor to agree to look after your daughter after a rushed phone call. You made a mental note to build your fortitude when it came to rejecting invitations to social outings and to buy something on your way home as a thank-you gift for your neighbor. A part of you reasoned that, since you had had your share of Japanese work culture, you knew better than to turn down a senior’s invitation to have a drink together. But you also knew that Eri was not that kind of person, that she would have understood anyway if you had said no, and then you were faced with the fact that you could use a drink or two considering what you had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. That, and the fact your face twitched at the mention of his name.

“I’ll… try my best,” you answered, forcing a smile. “I’m not sure if I could stay for long, though.”

Eri, who was leaning close toward one of the restroom mirrors and was about to apply her lipstick, paused her movement as she met your gaze on the mirror. She wore a frown that wordlessly asked you whatever you meant by what you said. You chuckled sheepishly as you crossed your arms.

“I have someone waiting for me at home.”

Her face lit up as she exclaimed an elongated ‘ooh,’ completely diverting her attention toward you. “You have a boyfriend?!”

You considered whether you should tell her or not. Maybe it would do you good to have at least someone else in your life other than your daughter. There was no one else left in the world for you, you thought.

“A kid.”

Eri’s eyes and mouth both widened as soon as those words left your lips. “You’re married?!”

“Uh, no,” you interjected almost too quickly after Eri’s exclamation before breathing out a deep sigh. “I just have one kid. A daughter.”

“Oh,” Eri’s response was soft, and if you didn’t know her a little past her cheerful persona, you would have thought it was out of character for her to look as pensive as she was. Still, the silence that lingered between the two of you was awkward enough for her to distract herself by finally applying her lipstick. You simply stood there, staring at the sink in front of you, noting how some of the droplets of water hadn’t dried yet.

You looked back at Eri when she cleared her throat as she put her lipstick back in her purse. “Dad’s not in the picture?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Okay, then,” she said, now turning back to you, her voice gentle and with a small, genuine smile on her face. “Just until 12 AM at most, I promise.”

You smiled back. “Okay.”

She gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder before grabbing her purse and making a beeline for the door. You followed her shortly after, opening the door for her to which she responded with a quick ‘thank you.’ As you exited the restroom area, you heard her ask for your daughter’s name, and you told her. You smiled when she said that her name was pretty, and she was sure that Emi herself was even prettier.

“Also, just drop the honorifics! I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“Eri, you’re almost thirty.”

“Eek!”

Ken Sato might be prideful, but he was not stupid. He was well aware of his feelings for you. He simply didn’t act upon them when he could have very well done that, considering how often he did things his way anyway, but he pushed away the thought of acting upon them after that night when you asked if the two of you would be friends forever. If he could not have both of your worlds colliding, he’d take any chance he could get just to be a part of your world. So, while he was used to that somber realization and the little heartbreaks that would build up after, he had never felt so hopeless when he saw you walk down the stairs of your house dressed in a soft blue tulle dress that made you look like you came out of a fairytale. Or heaven, he couldn’t choose. You were like an angel, if not more beautiful. And it was at that moment, when Ken should have felt something akin to elation that you were coming to prom with him, that he could only feel the crushing weight of the reality that you could never be his. He forced a smile as he let you loop your arm around his and bid your goodbyes to your mother, and on your way to school, he didn’t know if you could tell that he wasn’t fully listening to your chatter about whoever had been causing drama among the circles you were in.

It wasn’t as if you did not know at all. As a matter of fact, you probably knew that he had feelings for you before he had even realized it. You were used to boys misunderstanding your words and gestures as an invitation, as a hint that they could lead to something more. Most of the time, you would have just ignored their advances until they were bored of you or tired of trying, or you would have turned them down as amicably as you could, unless they had somehow seen you past your sweetheart persona. (Not like anyone would have believed them if they told others that you were actually a total bitch.) But this is Ken, this is Kenji, the first person that you truly thought of as a friend, the first person that you ever let see through you, the first person that you had laid yourself completely bare to, literally and figuratively. You didn’t want to lose him, but you didn’t want to pursue something that could make you end up in the same position as your mother and him turn out to be a man as bad if not worse than your father. You didn’t want him to not be a part of your world, but you didn’t want to depend on him because your mother had taught you to never trust a man, let alone depend yourself on one. So, you did what you do best with all the things you wanted but could never have: you keep them at arm’s length so you could still have them, yet you never settle.

(Years later, you found out that it was exhausting to live a life like that, and you would finally learn to settle once you have a daughter of your own.)

You noticed how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was nerve-racking, the way his gaze felt as if it was burning a hole through your back. You had been crowned as the prom queen and was called to have a dance with the prom king, who was some popular guy from the basketball team whose name you could barely recall a couple years later. There was no way you could remember him when you could only think about Ken while dancing with him; you could only think about Ken’s uncharacteristically solemn expression throughout the entire dance, you could only think about how Ken’s body was practically twitching when you had no choice but to laugh at some actually smart joke that the prom king had whispered to you, you could only think about what Ken would do once you were done with your stupid formal dance. You had expected some sarcastic remarks, as he would sometimes give, or for him to drag you to somewhere more secluded to do God-knows-what, but what came after only made your heart tighten in anguish. Ken only smiled sadly at you before asking for a dance himself, holding you close to his chest from the beginning to the end without so much as uttering a word. Rather than feeling awkward, you only felt this strange bittersweetness; the deep, comforting warmth and the profound, inexplicable sadness that both came just from him simply being there.

“Are you going to college?”

Ken had made a quick trip to that one burger joint you loved near your school and brought you to the bleachers to eat together, away from the meddlesome crowd of teenagers that wanted a piece of him or you. You were taking a bite of yours when you asked the question, distracting him from unwrapping his burger as he thought of an answer.

“Probably,” he said before shrugging. “But, like, we’ll see if I can get to the Minor League without college baseball.”

The snort you let out was anything but graceful, yet he found it endearing. “You’re Ken Sato,” you said while chewing, to which he responded with a disapproving look. He was just like his mother in that sense. You swallowed your food before continuing. “Of course you can.”

He chuckled. “You’re right.”

Ken had shared numerous comfortable silence with you, even if half of them were encumbered by an unspoken sadness that the two of you somehow understood. This time, though, he was on edge when you had kept quiet. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach almost violently, to the point where he nearly felt sick and just wanted to put his burger aside before you could say anything that would make his heart drop yet again.

“I don’t know if I’ll go to college here.”

Too late.

“Are you…” He trailed off, pausing for a moment. “Are you going back to Japan?”

Your hum was drawn out before you finally shrugged. “My parents said I’m next in line. It’s not like I can just say no.”

He frowned. “But you can, though?”

“That’s literally not how it works, Kenji.”

The way you deadpanned would have been humorous if it wasn’t for the way you addressed him by his full given name and emphasized the last syllable in mock annoyance, the way you rolled your eyes that contrasted the layer of sternness in your voice, the tone that you would use with him when you were trying to be serious yet lighthearted for the sake of his (or perhaps your?) comfort. He glanced at you, and you were chewing another bite as you looked to the distance. If he didn’t know you well enough, he would have thought that you were just blankly staring at nothing, but he could tell by the slight furrow of your brows that you were having some kind of battle with your own thoughts. He realized right then and there that you might be leaving. You could be leaving. He wasn’t sure what he should feel and when he should start feeling it and where he should even start dissecting it all.

“Well,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Will you be visiting?”

Another shrug from you. “Probably. Probably not.”

So much uncertainty from someone who hated uncertainty. Ironic.

“Are we…” Are we okay? Will we be okay? We won’t fuck this up, right? He didn’t know which question to ask. You were always vague. Untouchable. If he had asked one of those questions, you would just say things in an effort to soothe his worries rather than things you actually mean. “Can we still be friends?”

You remembered asking something along the same lines one night in junior year, within the confines of your bedroom and under the dim lighting of your old star projector. You had asked for reassurance. Reassurance that neither of you would fuck this, whatever the two of you had, up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t let you fuck him up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t fuck you up. But deep down, you already knew that the two of you had gone past the point of no return, of fucking each other up, that if something was to truly happen between the two of you, the pain that you kept contained in your chest, suffocating, would finally course through your veins and gnaw at your bones like some cancerous entity you were forced to live the rest of your life with.

“Yeah, of course,” you lied. Of course you did. You always did. “But what’s going on between us, that’s…”

He nodded, already understanding what you meant. This time, you turned to look at him. You saw him hang his head, seemingly losing his appetite as he stared blankly at his half-eaten burger. You were always like this, he thought. Always vague. Untouchable. He hated it. He hated it so much. You, on the other hand, were trying to decipher the solemn look on his face and suppress the guilt that was pooling in your stomach before you started throwing up the food you just ate. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him. You’ve always wanted him. He was always the only one you ever wanted. But—

“Yeah,” his soft reply pulled you out of your trance. He was still looking at your burger, absentmindedly nodding. “Yeah, okay.” He took another bite, and you could tell that he was forcing it because he had a slight grimace as he chewed his food and swallowed it. “Be sure to text me about all your… stuff, yeah?”

You nodded, humming as you crumpled the empty wrapper in your hand. “I would say shit like, ‘You have to come to my wedding and my childbirth,’ but you know that I probably won’t even get married.”

He knew. So much uncertainty for someone who hated uncertainty. He knew you were not only going to not get married, but you were not going to let yourself be tied down to one particular person. He knew that even though you had placed him somewhere close to you in your world, he was still not a part of it; that he was not an exception. Ken knew all that, yet he still fell for you anyway. (He knew he had no right to call you stupid then.)

“Yeah, yeah,” he said coolly. He tried to feign indifference, he really did. But the way you looked at him made him realize that he had worn his heart on his sleeve for a moment too long. So, he wore a half-hearted grin as he held out his little finger and asked, “So, friends?”

At that moment, you cursed yourself for the person you were as you linked your own little finger with his, that familiar warmth and a heavier, agonizing weight blooming in and crushing your chest. You could tell he felt the same, somehow, if the way his hand slightly trembled was anything to go by. But you didn’t dare offer comfort that you could not sustain. You didn’t dare let another lie slip through your teeth just to break his heart again and again and again. You didn’t dare to tell him that you loved him, because your fear was far stronger than your love.

“Friends forever, bro.”

And so, the two of you spent what you thought was your last night together as blithely as you could. There were a lot of firsts and lasts that made your heart swell and tighten at the same time whenever you thought of that night. You rode his bike for the first time, and that memory alone made you purchase one for yourself after you enrolled in college. He told you that you looked silly with your dress bunched up carelessly around your hips, even though he himself was staring shamelessly at your bare thighs, but he didn’t tell you that when you took off his slightly oversized helmet and shook your head to untangle your hair was one of the times where he thought you looked the most beautiful. He smoked his last cigarette that night, and the lightheadedness he experienced almost made him try smoking again when you left for Japan. He wondered how did you even manage to smoke at least two a day. You told him that there was a reason why you didn’t mind that he didn’t go down on you, and he realized not only did you make him feel bitter, you also did taste a little bitter. He did eat you out for his own pleasure later that night, thinking it was the last time he could do it anyway. He still thought you were the best he had ever tasted.

And so, you let him sneak into your house for the last time, and you noticed how your mother was seemingly fast asleep on the couch, yet another Love Island episode playing on the television. She wasn’t, you knew that, he knew that, but you led him up the stairs anyway. He made love to you for the first and last time. Made love, not fucked. You knew because it was his first time holding you this gently as if he was afraid you would break or slip out from his grasp yet his hips collided with yours with a force that could knock the air out of your lungs and make you see all the constellations in the universe. You knew because it was the last time—and you just realized that after you let him into your world again in college—that he kept kissing you throughout the ordeal, as if taking a breath was the most unforgivable offense you could have ever done. His kisses weren’t rough either; not the clashing of teeth and borderline painful bites of the lips that you would sometimes get from him. They were slow, passionate, as if he was trying to tell you something wordlessly. You knew what he was trying to tell you. You felt the same way, too. But you simply kissed him back with the same fervor, taking his breath away with you.

The next morning, it was the first time he left without so much as waking you up, and the last time you ever laid yourself completely bare for someone else. It was the last time he let himself think of a future with you where he could finally be a part of your world, and the first time you cried, screamed, upon realizing that you loved him even more than you loved yourself.

There was always something about house parties that would make Ken retch whenever he stepped into the room. He used to think that it was probably the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol and puke somewhere in the corner, or how packed, poorly air-conditioned, and humid the room was that it was surprising no one had died yet from overheating. But the moment his eyes landed on her, he realized that it wasn’t the smell or the humidity that made his skin crawl. It was the fact that every time he stepped into one of these parties, he would either make an entrance with his arm looped around her waist or end up finding her making out with some other guy. It was the fact that every time he showed up to one of these parties, he would either have the time of his life and hook up with her in one of the bathrooms or drink his sorrows away for the whole night while she danced with her friends and some guys from the football team. It was the fact that every time he came to one of these parties, he would almost always come home with a freshly patched up heart broken into pieces again no matter what.

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. The last time they spoke properly was on prom night, when they had ended the arrangement they had throughout high school. He didn’t have the heart to drop by her house anymore, and she stopped coming over to hang out with his mother. He even had a small argument with his mother because of that. They had kept texting each other at first, but as weeks went by, he stopped sending her memes at random hours of the day, and she stopped telling him small things that happened throughout her days. He didn’t tell her that he had ended up choosing college baseball and enrolled in one of the top universities in Los Angeles known for its varsity baseball team. He spent his days exercising, practicing, going out for a drink or two with his seniors, and coming to a few frat parties that he had been invited to. There was a girl or two that had wanted to involve themselves with him, but he brushed off one of them and scared off the other by muttering the wrong name when she went down on him. Ken did what he could to try to forget his high school days, sometimes drinking one too many to do just that, and that was exactly what he had in mind when he saw her giggling on the lap of some other guy in the middle of one of those frat parties in his freshman year of college.

Ken hesitantly called out her name once he arrived near the crowd of people around the couch, and he swore the world felt as if it had slowed down when she turned around. Her hair swept over her shoulder as she turned, and even with the unbearable anguish settling in his chest, he couldn’t help but think just how beautiful she was. Her lipstick-coated lips parted and her eyes widened with an array of emotions when she finally saw him. He recognized some of them. Realization. Surprise. Delight. Sadness. Guilt. Longing. (He hoped he hadn’t mistaken the last one.) Ken thought he couldn’t ever feel more brokenhearted than when he left her house without even sparing a glance at her front door while he revved his engine and sped back to his place, but holy shit—he thought he genuinely would rather die at that moment.

“Kenji?”

God, he wished he could hate her for how easy his name rolled off her tongue, or how she called out to him with his full given name instead of the name he used to detach himself from his reality. He almost shuddered at the sound of her voice. He berated himself for still being wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, hey,” he replied weakly, yet he willed his body language to be as normal as possible. “I didn’t know you also got in here.”

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to tell you,” she said. Ken knew that she didn’t forget. She knew that he knew. A moment passed before he noticed how she didn’t even bother to move off from the lap of that other guy, who was practically staring him down as he spoke with her. If he wasn’t a better person, he would have just abandoned himself to anger and start a fight right then and there simply for the way the guy was looking at him. Ken settled with an awkward nod in the guy’s direction, who didn’t even bother returning the friendly gesture. Asshole.

“No problem, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was so much he wanted to say, but there was no way he would ask for a conversation in the middle of one of these goddamn parties, not when she seemed like she was doing just fine after that whole ordeal on prom night and especially not when he felt as if he was going to punch the teeth off the guy who was holding her as if she was his. (Ken selfishly thought, if she couldn’t be his, then she could never be anyone’s.)

“See you… later?” Ken wanted to hit himself in the head for how unsure he sounded, again.

She exclaimed almost too quickly for his liking. “Yeah, totally!”

Ken was reeling, yet he managed to give her a half-hearted wave and even catch bits of her conversation as he slowly made his way back to the group of guys he came with.

“You know that guy?”

“He’s…” She paused. “We just went to the same high school.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, Ken caught the way she giggled as that guy whispered something to her ear. He stilled when he realized for the first time that, no, this wasn’t just a bad dream. He was there, she was there, and there was still a distance between them that not even an act that was supposed to be reserved between lovers could bridge. She looked beautiful, too beautiful even in the arms of another. He didn’t know how much he could take before his heart actually stopped beating because of some broken heart syndrome, so he looked away and turned somewhere else. He really could use a drink right now. Hell, he could down a bottle of liquor in one go right at that moment just to escape from and forget everything. He only thought of one thing as he shoved his way through the crowd of drunken college students.

I need to get away from her.

“Sato.”

There was a hardheartedness in your voice that even made you shudder when you called out to him. It was weird to call him by his surname when you’ve spent all those years addressing him by his full given name, a right he had only reserved for his mother back then. It was even weirder to add an honorific at the end of it because you knew him too well to be using any sort of honorific, because you were used to whispering pet names in either one of your bedrooms, with lighting as dim as the club you were in. You wanted to throw up at the absurdity of it all. Why did you even come to his table, anyway?

You recalled getting out of the restroom with Eri and was greeted with the sight of a sea of people that just made you want to go home. Eri held your hand as she navigated through the crowd and found the staircase leading up to the VIP section, showing her ID to the bouncer before dragging you upstairs. Her hand felt clammy as she led you to one of the tables where some of the staff members you recognized were seated, along with some new faces that you didn’t bother asking about. Eri patted the spot next to her as she poured you a glass of whiskey, while your eyes darted around and landed on the table near the far back to shake off the thought of just how similar she was to your roommate. The sight of a familiar face, one you knew all too well, successfully did just that; although you hadn’t even started drinking, you genuinely wanted to throw up right then and there. It didn’t take long for you to down the whiskey Eri handed to you in one swift motion.

“Hey, hey, pace yourself,” she said, leaning closer to you so you could hear her over the loud music and chattering. “Don’t come home to your daughter drunk.”

You wanted to snark out of habit, but as you had done for the past four years, you told yourself that you were no longer in high school or college, that you were supposed to be a responsible adult and mother and not some broken teenager trying to cope with your parents’ fucked up marriage and parenting, their eventual deaths, and your complex with your ex-best friend and friends with benefits by having sex with anyone that walked on two legs, smoking until your lungs turned black, and overdosing in the middle of a goddamn frat party. So, you took a deep breath and muttered a ‘sorry’ to Eri, which she only responded with a concerned stare before she was distracted by one of your other colleagues asking her about something. You wiped the damp trail of liquor from the corner of your mouth and shook your head, pouring yourself another glass when Eri wasn’t looking and turning your gaze to the table where Kenji was seated.

Say, perhaps it was liquid courage, even if it was weird to have it when you just had one drink. Perhaps it was your brain trying to trick you into old habits that you had to grow out of years ago, or perhaps it was your heart simply telling you to just go after what you want, like you used to all the time, without caring how others would feel after you’ve laid them bare and take and take and take. Perhaps it was the realization that he was there, he had always been there, and there was no telling how much longer you have until you would have to let him go again because you thought he deserved better. Better than you, who only kept him at arm’s length because you didn’t want to end up like your parents but you also didn’t want to be alone either. Better than you, who repeatedly broke his heart because you could never give him what he wanted, too scared of what ifs, yet you still craved for a place in it. Better than you, who couldn’t even open your world to someone who would give you his world if you had asked.

You were once a good daughter and you might have been a good mother, but you were never a good person, you thought to yourself as you absentmindedly made your way toward his table.

It was hard trying to keep a straight face, but even if you wanted to show your heart on your sleeve, you wouldn’t know where to start. There were millions of thoughts running in your head and feelings brewing in your chest, and there was no time to navigate through all of them in the middle of a packed nightclub while you were trying to confront your once best friend without any clear reason why. Your breath almost hitched when you saw how realization slowly dawned on him, how his expression turned from one of surprise to one that you could liken to your own anguish. You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve seen that expression before. Perhaps once, when you saw him staring at you sadly from the corner of your eye when you had your formal dance with the prom king and talked with your friends while he was mingling with his own circles. Or twice, when you caught how devastated he was to see you sitting on the lap of some guy that had said a pick-up line so corny you didn’t have another option but to laugh. Or when he found you lying on your side next to your roommate in some frat dorm bathroom, barely breathing after snorting lines of cocaine. (But maybe the one time you remember the most was when he used the stuff of your sleepless nights against you in front of that old diner before you could even tell him that your pregnancy test came back positive.)

You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest and willed yourself to speak once you stood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t even be here. You have an injury.”

“Oh–huh?”

You knew how much Kenji loved baseball. That was something that even you couldn’t take away from him, and you were glad that you couldn’t. So you supported him in any way you could; in high school, you practiced batting with him, you came to his games whenever you could with that stupid banner you made, you cheered the loudest for him whenever he hit a home run. In college, you watched his rival teams’ games and analyzed them for him, you helped him come up with an effective training regimen and even joined him on days you were sober, you gifted him a new glove for his 21st birthday that he still used to this day. (You still watched all of his games even after you stopped talking to each other.) Perhaps it was that instinct kicking in, in addition to all of the unease wedging in your chest, that made you lean forward, dismissing his confusion and snarling at him to basically watch himself.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you.”

There was a flash of anger in his eyes that only you could see, but he was rendered speechless otherwise. At that, you quickly stood up straighter before he could blow a fuse right at you and turned toward his teammates, trying to appear more dignified than you had been mere moments ago. You bent a little in a curt and polite bow to appeal to them, unclenching your jaw and relaxing the muscles in your face before you spoke calmly.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

You didn’t wait to see their reaction or hear their response, quickly excusing yourself and downing the glass of whiskey in your hand as you turned around. You could somehow hear the clicks of your heels echoing on the floor amidst the loud thumping of the bass, and you swore your heart was about to jump out of its place when you finally returned to Eri’s table. She saw how distraught you were and tried to ask you what was wrong, but you dismissed her by saying you needed to go home because of an emergency and yanked your bag from the seat so harshly that you were even surprised its contents didn’t spill out. You only thought of one thing as you squeezed your way through the sea of bodies.

I need to get away from him.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: home

summary: takes place after 'make my heart surrender' ends (so if you haven't read the series, you can do so here). after surprising carmy at the restaurant, he has something really important to tell you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: time jump, fluff, 'i love you', smut (18+ mdni), no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, not proofread -- will probably go back and make some edits

word count: 3.9k

listen to: no such thing - john mayer | you're the best - wet | pancakes for dinner - lizzy mcalpine | want want - maggie rogers

a/n: hi it's me! i'm tired of breaking my own heart are you tired of me breaking your hearts?!! if you're wondering what the heck happened between chapter 5 & 6, make sure to read 'make my heart surrender' or at least, this final chapter!

didn't think you were getting smut with this final chapter?! gotcha!! i had to take some DEEP breaths while writing this. thank you so much for all of the kind comments, external screaming, and dms about this series. i love you all sm. here's is thee much needed and well-deserved fluffy chapter where carmy finally says (redacted).

read: chapter five | masterlist

“God I fuckin’ love you.” 

Your words echo in Carmy’s head all shift, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t said it back yet. 

The restaurant has been slow for lunch, and in every single moment he’s had to think about it, the words felt like they were on the tip of his tongue:

I love you. 

I love you too. 

I love you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. 

But what was he supposed to do? Tell you in the middle of your mise en place? Follow you into the walk-in and tell you there? He almost regrets not just saying it back right then and there – the minute he realized that you and Richie were both pulling a prank on him. Carmy decides that telling you here, at the restaurant just won’t do – just wouldn’t be romantic enough – and he knows you deserve more than that. 

As you finish up your prep for dinner service, you eye Carmy carefully. He looks totally wrapped up in thought, and you can’t imagine what he must be thinking this hard about. You’re here. You can’t believe you’re here. And you could care less about anything else right now.

“How ya doin?” you ask him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know if you can see it on his face – that he’s thinking way too hard about this. 

“Uh, I’m-. Just thinkin’ about strategy… for dinner service,” he lies, trying his best to throw you off his trail. 

“Okay,” you reply, unconvinced. 

But it’s clear that he’s not going to give you much more than that.  

“You should go home,” he blurts out. His response takes you by surprise, and as soon as he realizes it sounds like he doesn’t want you here, his face softens, quick to course correct. 

“I just mean-, you must be tired. From the drive. As much as I appreciate the help…” he trails off. “It’s been slow today anyways. You should take my key and head home. If you want. Get some rest.”

Home. 

You smile in response at the sound of it, knowing that, after today, Chicago is your home. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “If it stays this slow, I may even be able to get home early.”

You’re sure you have the silliest grin on your face as you hear the word again. 

Because this is your home now. 

Because Carmy is your home now too. 

“Well, if you insist,” you say with a shrug. 

“I do,” he says back, a seriousness in his voice. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response, agreeing to his demand. 

Carmy’s always trying to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love the most about him. Whether he’s asking you if he can make you something or asking to walk you home, you’ve always known that this is how he shows his love. 

You and Carmy both wash your hands, and he follows you towards the locker area, watching you hang up your apron in the locker that will now be yours. He busies himself with finding his apartment keys while you gather your things. 

“I kinda missed this place,” you say, even though you’ve only been gone three weeks. 

“Yeah?” he asks, a light in his eyes as he watches you. 

It feels surreal: seeing you here, knowing that you’ll be at his place when he gets back, that he gets to keep you. 

“Yeah. And maybe even some of the people too,” you smirk, cheekily. 

Carmy blushes, taking a few steps towards you with his keys in hand. 

“Need the address?” he asks. 

“I remember how to get back there,” you reassure him, playfully. 

It hadn’t been that long since you walked home with Carmy the night that changed it all: the night he’d made you his carbonara, the night that feelings were revealed, the night you made love. You’d followed him back to his apartment two nights in a row after that, letting yourself surrender to this thing between you that you’d both spent over two years fighting. And you’d let him take you to bed each night, getting lost in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt against yours. 

You’re still in shock over how much has changed in your life in the last month alone.

It felt like heaven. 

It feels like heaven. 

And you wonder what took you both so fucking long.

At the same time, you know it happened exactly when it was supposed to happen – that anything before this wouldn’t have worked. 

As Carmy hands you his keys, you give him a goodbye kiss, the tension between the two of you palpable. It’s the kind of ‘I can’t wait to get you alone’ tension and you can’t wait till he gets off his shift – your thoughts filled with all the things you want to do with him when you finally do. 

It takes a while to leave the restaurant – everyone wanting to get in their hello or goodbye in – before you’re on your way home to Carmy’s apartment. On the drive there, you laugh to yourself about how the staff of The Bear have been betting on how long it’d take for you to come back. It fills you with a sense of warmth, confirming that this was exactly the move you needed to make. Since it’s close by, and you still have your stupid fucking U-HAUL, it doesn’t take long to get back to Carmy’s apartment. You make a mental note to find a good storage container to rent out so you don’t have to lug this thing around while you look for a place. 

By the time you get into his apartment, suitcase in hand, it’s clear to you that Carmy wasn’t expecting you. His home is messier than you remember it being when you left three weeks ago, but it’s not so intolerable that it’s maddening. 

You put something on the TV in the background, while you unwind, taking a shower then tidying up a little bit around the apartment. You let yourself enjoy the simplest of pleasures: your favorite pair of sweatpants that you can’t believe he’s kept, and a comfy bralette you’ve packed at the top of your suitcase. 

But it all starts to hit you as you start slowing down: after spending the night in Cleveland, you’d driven all morning to Chicago, jumped in on the line for dinner prep. You’ve barely had a moment to slow down and holy shit, are you exhausted. It doesn’t take more than a few episodes of Pasta Grannies for you to pass out on the couch. Carmy’s YouTube playback is set to autoplay, and as your eyelids become progressively heavier, you promise yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few moments… 

“Hi sweetheart,” you hear a voice say, causing you to slowly blink your eyes open. 

“Carm?” you mumble, only half awake. “Is it you? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did I wake you?” he whispers, letting out a small laugh. 

You giggle as Carmy comes into your line of sight. He’s perched on the edge of the couch as you reach for one of his hands so that you can touch him. 

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did. What time is it?” you ask, becoming more and more awake by the minute. 

“Ten-thirty. Business picked up a ton for dinner.”

“Damn.”

“So much for getting off early.” 

You hum in response, sitting up momentarily to grab his hands, pulling him towards. Carmy smiles, laying his body over yours, before leaning in for the softest, gentlest kiss. 

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles back at you, the words just on the tip of his tongue. 

I love you too.

You pull him back in for another kiss, this time deepening it. You laugh again, as Carmy breaks the kiss, an inquisitive look plastered to his face. 

“What?” he questions. 

“Nothing. You smell like hot giardiniera,” you giggle as your lips twist into a smile against his. 

He laughs, “Yeah?’

“Uh huh,” you say. 

“I’ll shower,” he suggests, playfully. 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m kinda into it,” you reply, earning another chuckle from him. 

“It’s okay,” Carmy replies, shaking his head. He places a peck on your lips before sitting up properly, earning a groan from you as he pulls away. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Maybe we can move this to uh… my bedroom?”

“Are you putting the moves on me, Berzatto?” you tease him, shooting him a playful look.

“No! I just meant-, since I know you must be tired-,” he stammers, a blush running across your cheeks. 

You shake your head, sitting up to reassure him with another kiss. 

“I’m kidding,” you say with a chuckle. “And I’m also starving. 

“Yeah?” he sounds. 

“How about this? Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order us a pizza. I’m sure we can find something to do while we wait for it to get here,” you say suggestively. 

Oh. 

“Sounds great,” he agrees with a quick raise of his eyebrows. 

You watch as Carmy disappears into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling your ears, you scroll around a little for a good pizza spot nearby. You settle on something New York style out of habit, ordering a few things for delivery. 

By the time Carmy gets out of the shower, you’ve curled up with yourself in his bed, scrolling around on your favorite social media app. You let out a whistle as soon as Carmy enters the room with only a towel tied around his waist. You can tell he’s tried his best to dry his hair, running the towel through his perfect curls a few times. You’ve got all this pent up sexual energy, and seeing Carmy like this, all hot, nearly-naked, and wet is really doing it for you. 

Hell, he could be in a full hazmat suit and the man would do it for you. 

You watch as he rummages through his dresser, searching for a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, but there’s no fucking way you’re letting him get dressed. You toss your phone to the side, standing up from where you are on the bed.

As you approach, you snake your arms around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. He cannot believe this is real: that you’re here, in his bed, in the sweatpants that he knows you love. That you’re here to stay. That you’re here and you’re his. 

“Hey,” he says, his lips twisting into a smile as you begin to leave soft kisses across the back of his shoulders. 

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, nipping at the skin you’ve just kissed. 

Carmy hisses at the feel of your teeth, letting out a laugh that seems to rumble in his throat. 

“Can I help you with something?” he teases you. 

He feels your lips curl into a smile against his skin, smirking in response. 

I fucking love you too. 

But before he can say anything, your hands are pushing his towel down past his hips, desperately envious of the way the material clings to him. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “I think you know.”

He lets the towel fall to the floor, and Carmy groans as you wrap your hand around his hard on, hissing as he feels you pump him a few times. 

“Seems like you’ve been thinkin the same thing,” you say again, feeling how hard he already is. 

He bites into his lower lip, his eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he enjoys the way you touch him. 

“Been thinkin’ about this all day, sweetheart.”

“Well…” you trail off. “I’d love to hear more about what’s been on your mind.”

“Yeah?” he croaks out, the pleasure you’re bringing him causing him to short circuit. 

“Yes,” you sigh out, wound up with desire. 

Finally, Carmy turns around, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a passionate, lust-filled kiss. His lips are on yours like he’s been starving, as if nothing would satiate him the way tasting you will. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his tongue slide against yours. Carmy begins backing you up towards the bed, guiding you down to his mattress. 

“Had this on my mind since you left Chicago,” he mumbles, his pupils wide, fully blown out in lust. 

“Me too,” you manage to get out. 

He leans in once more, pressing his lips to yours once more. You drag your teeth against his bottom lip, before he breaks the kiss, his mouth and hands searching for real estate lower. Carmy leaves hot, open mouthed kisses along your breasts, your torso, and you’re practically pulling off your bralette like it’s burning your skin. 

“Been thinkin’ about this. You…” he admits, his voice hoarse. 

You gasp in pleasure as Carmy drags the sweatpants, along with your panties, down over your hips, tossing them who knows where behind him. 

“... tasting you.” 

You moan as he positions himself between your legs, kneeling on the floor, his chest pressed to the bed. Your legs quake with anticipation as you feel his hot breath fan over your core. Every moment he spends making you wait is killing you. 

“Carmy, please,” you beg, as he begins leaving soft kisses along your inner thighs. You can tell he’s making himself wait too, building the anticipation so that when he lets himself have you… 

“Carmen!” you moan. 

He practically groans against you as he uses the tip of his tongue to trace your clit.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he muses, before burying himself between your thighs again. 

His mouth is on you, tracing little shapes with his tongue, licking up and down your progressively wet core, while his hands keep your legs spread wide. 

All for him. 

He continues to eat you out, completely enraptured with the way you taste, the way your moans and gasps sound, the way you say his name, calling out for him and only him. As he slips a finger inside of you, you bury your hands in his hair, your hips thrusting up into his hand and against his mouth. 

“Holy fuck, Carmy,” you gasp, your mind completely taken over with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He can tell that you’re close, adding another finger, taking note that you seem to like it even more. It’s as if he’s memorized every single thing you loved, everything that seemed to make you tick, and applied it to this time. 

“Carmy, I’m gonna-,” you cry out, your legs shaking as he brings you over the edge. 

You’re gasping, writhing against the bed, your legs still pushed wide by tatted hands as you begin to come down. You look down, tugging Carmy’s hair to bring him back up to you. When he finally looks back up at you, he’s grinning, completely satisfied with the pleasure he’s brought you. He makes his way back up, laying his very naked body over top of yours, leaning in for another kiss. 

You can taste yourself on his lips, and he doesn’t know if it’s possible to get harder than he is. 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” you whispered against his lips, spreading your legs to make room for him. You can feel his hard, aching cock against your wet center, and if you think you’ll die if he’s not inside of you as soon as possible. 

“All day.” 

He kisses you, nipping at your top lip momentarily, before continuing with:

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it, actually.” 

That and something else. 

Three words he can’t seem to get out. 

Even though they’re begging to be said. 

You reach down, wrapping a hand around him, sliding his thick tip against you so that he can feel how wet and needy you are for him. 

“I can think of a few other things I want,” you beg him, feeling him shudder against you as you drag the tip of his cock over you again and again. 

“And what’s that?” Carmy asks you cheekily. 

Instead of answering, you guide him into you, earning a gasp from the both of you as he splits you open. Carmy takes his time pushing into you, making sure to pause when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

Your eyes are locked with his, allowing yourself to get totally lost inside of the pools of blue. You’re sighing out in pleasure, squeezing around him, your lips so fucking close to touching it’s near-painful. Carmy begins to slide out of you at a dangerously slow pace, thrusting into you, deeper each time. You’re pulling him down to you, and it’s as if you can’t get enough – enough of his mouth on yours, enough of him to hold onto – even though you have all of him. 

You’d let him consume all of you if he wanted to, you think to yourself, as he swallows your moans in his mouth.

It’s tangled legs, and tangled tongues, and whispered pleas. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, burying his head in your neck as he speeds up. You can tell the both of you are close – that all the pent up sexual energy means that neither of you will last long. 

But you don’t care. 

You’ve got all the time in the world now. 

“Carmy,” you whine, desperate for him to let you cum.

You know you have his attention, as he raises his head, locking eyes with you again. 

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whisper, desperately. 

“Fuck. That’s so hot,” he groans, his eyes wide.

Unwillingly, he peels his body off of yours, letting you sit up straight. He thinks he may have died and gone to heaven as he watches you turn around, kneeling on all fours over his bed. His hands immediately go to your ass, dragging calloused palms over the curve of it as he kneels behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he gasps, guiding himself back into you. 

He thinks the sight alone may send him to an early grave as you bow your back, your ass still high as you press your chest against the bed. 

“Your ass is fucking incredible,” Carmy says, pulling out slowly, before thrusting back into you with a force that makes you cry out. 

“Carmen,” you whimper, your legs shaking beneath you. 

This feels too good. 

“Hmm?” he asks, his hands smoothing over your low back, following the way your back seems to arch in pleasure. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

He knows he won’t last much longer. His hands hold onto your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he begins to speed up. It feels unreal, incredible, being this deep inside of you. And he gets to watch: watch the way you arch your back, watch your body respond to every single thrust, watch you grasp at the sheets and pillows, searching for something to hold onto. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna last long, baby,” he stutters out, his thrusts becoming more erratic as you beg him to keep going. 

“Please, Carmen. That feels so goddamn good,” you plead with him, face down into his sheets. 

“Shit. Fuck,” he howls, his voice booming against all corners of the room. 

Carmy places the gentlest hand against your low back, as if it to ask you to lay down, laying his body over yours from behind. He pauses, because it just feels too damn good, and he wants to revel in this moment before this ends. Ever so slowly, he begins to drag his cock in and out of you at the most torturously slow pace. His mouth leaves small kisses against your shoulders, nipping at your soft skin as he continues to make love to you. 

“Faster, Carmy. Please. I’m gonna cum,” you pant. 

You’re not sure just how much more patient you can get here. You feel him begin to speed up, and you’re moaning into his mattress against, begging for him to make you cum. He can feel you squeezing around him, and the sight of himself fucking into you really isn’t helping either. 

“Fuck,” he manages to get out, his hips beginning to stutter against your ass. 

“Yes. Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he repeats, earning the most blissful ‘Carmy’ from your lips he’s ever heard. 

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whine. 

“Yes, me too. Yes. Fuck, I love you,” he calls out, shutting his eyes as he cums. 

He can feel you shuddering around him, as he fucks you through your orgasm too, completely unaware of the words that have flown out of his mouth. 

You’re both panting, breathless from what you’ve just done, as you begin to come down. 

“Holy shit,” he finally says, leaning his forehead against the back of your shoulder. 

“You can say that again,” you chuckle, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we do this tomorrow? And the day after that?” you ask, playfully, turning your head to kiss him. “And the day after that?”

Carmy smiles, “Absolutely.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get cleaned up and back into comfy clothes. Carmy knows there’s no point in fighting you for your favorite pair of his sweatpants as he picks out another pair, remaining shirtless for your viewing pleasure. The pizza arrives shortly after, and you find yourself in bed, with the man you’ve loved for so long, getting a much-needed refuel break. 

“You know I hate eating in bed,” Carmy points out, watching you get crumbs all over his sheets. 

“Yeah, well I’m getting my own place so… that’s a future problem for you and me,” you answer, without a single care in the world. 

“For when we move in together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters – seeing if that’s something that’s still on your mind. 

“Right,” you confirm, confidently. 

But you’re in. 

You’re all in. 

It seems like you’ve passed whatever test he’s given you as the corners of his lips curl into the softest smile. 

“You know… you live in Chicago now,” he teases, in reference to your choice of pizza. 

You scoff in response, throwing in a playful eye roll for dramatic effect. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

He laughs. 

You eat quietly, enjoying your first night in Chicago as a resident. You watch as Carmy’s face changes, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say what’s on his mind. Instead of asking, you wait, knowing that he’ll bring it up when he finds them. 

“Hey uh…” he starts, hesitantly. “I just want you to know… that I… I meant what I said earlier.”

The more serious tone he uses piques your curiosity as you stare back at him blankly, unsure of what he's referring to.

“What do you mean?” you ask back.

Carmy takes another beat, pausing as he musters up the courage to clarify with:

“That I love you. I didn’t want you to think I just said it because… well you know.”

Because you were naked.

Because he got caught up in the moment.

Because he was inside of you.

He licks his lips, before opening his mouth to say it again: 

“I love you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, his eyes are on you, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

But you’re beaming as you hear them and it all begins to make sense. It was something you’d said earlier, but the fact that he hadn’t said it back hadn’t been on your mind. Is this what he’d been thinking about all day? You just figured he'd say it back when he was ready.

You shake your head, a grin plastered to your face as you reply,

“I know, silly. I love you too.”

Fin. 

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery@strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn @hlkwrites

[nemainofthewater]

Oh hey, why are we going away from the drama? I want to see how that arc ends, why are we focusing on a kitchen-

Wait.

What are they making???

Watching this, never have I been more convinced that one of the directors is a frustrated cook, unable to fulfil their dreams of running a restaurant and instead forced to languish in dramaland. There are gratuitous shots of hands, bubbling pots and pans, and a beautiful mise-en-place.

Looking at the food you can almost taste it.

...I'm so hungry, forget the plot, give me the food!

Here are some gifs of food (WARNING do not look at when hungry!)

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty | A League Nobleman | The Legend of Shen Li | Royal Feast masterlist first set second set | Love Me, Love My Voice | Luoyang | What If | New Life Begins | Delicacies Destiny first set second set | Eat Drink Man Woman gifset2 | The Long Ballad

Huge thanks to @guzhuangheaven, @shijiujun, @ladynamie,

@moononmyfloor, @movielosophy, and @yingtan for your work in making the gifsets!

Write-ins, propaganda, and images are welcome!

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

The Club Reading Order

The Duff, Nightlife, and Carpe Noctem can be read on their own and thus I will not include them in this list. Cause of Action can be read on its own but should be read after The Duff.

Find the AU Masterlist here.

*this is only a recommended order, meaning that some parts overlap but events should align relatively chronologically.

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 1 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 1 

Wasted ✫ Part 1

Black Light ✧ Part 1

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 2 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 2

Wasted ✫ Part 2

Wasted ✫ Part 3 

Wasted ✫ Part 4 

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 3 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 3

Black Light ✧ Part 2 

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 4

Mise en Place ♡ Part 4

Black Light ✧ Part 3

Wasted ✫ Part 5 

Black Light ✧ Part 4

Wasted ✫ Part 6

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con bordering on non-con, ignoring of sexual boundaries.

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

Masterlist

Ch 1. Specialty Ingredients

Ch 2. Amuse Bouche

Ch 3. Hors D'oeuvre

Ch 4. Mise-en-Place

Ch 5. Specially Sourced

Ch 6. Main Course

Ch 7. Sous Vide

Ch 8. Mouthfeel

Ch 9. Fat Marbled

Ch 10. Acquired Taste

Ch 11. Marinate

Ch 12. Tenderize

The Taste of You: the complete playlist

Tags: @scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes, @Yoruse, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki, @gretasimp, @kandismom, @ivoryangel1290, @mrs-rogers-barnes1, @iloveshawnieboi, @m0k0k0, @sousydive, @sapphirebarnes, @kandis-mom

[merlincinema]

Merlin Cinema Round 1 Masterpost

This year, we've had some fantastic fanworks in the form of fic, artwork, and manips. These authors and artists not only blew our minds but forced us to think out of the box and made us so grateful to have such an amazing, hardworking group of people involved in this year's fest. We congratulate all the participants of this year's fest for their successful posting. Without you all, this fest would not have been a success. So, without further ado, we proudly present to you this year's masterlist:

[Art+Fic] Mise En Place by s0mmerspr0ssen, papysanzo based on Bella Martha Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: E Word Count: 30k Medium: Digital Art

[Fic] The Mistaken Bride and the Dragon by Chaosgenes based on I Am Dragon Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: T Word Count: 2,130

[Art+Fic] The Hawk and the Bear by Excited_Insomniac, Papysanzo89 based on Ladyhawk Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: T Word Count: 15.7k Medium: Digital Art

[Art] Merlin Stardust AU by dollopbrain based on Star Dust Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: G Medium: Digital Art

[Fic] The screams of the innocents by HadrianPeverellBlack based on Silence of the Lambs Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: T Word Count: 3048

[Fic] For Merlin by HadrianPeverellBlack based on The Departed Pairing: Merlin & Arthur Rating: T Word Count: 622

[Fic] Return to Oz by Sage_Owl based on Return to Oz Pairing: Ygraine/Uther, Gen Rating: T Word Count: 10,035

[Fic] An Adventure Involving Dragons by thenerdyindividual based on Barbie Island Princess Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin/Arthur Rating: M Word Count: 70 118

[Fic] That Loving Feeling by ravenwilds based on Top Gun Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Gwaine Rating: T Word Count: 32,500

[Art] Sweet Home Ealdor by Esseff based on Sweet Home Alabama Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: T Medium: Edits/Manips

View this post on Tumblr | LiveJournal | Discord

[bradshawsbitch]

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw. . .

masterlist

« - denotes angst.

△ - denotes smut.

❣ - denotes fluff

✧ series:

○ mise en place masterlist

↳ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

✧ one-shot:

○ i'll guide you - x reader △ NEW!

↳ amongst salt water skin and silken sheets lies insecurities and innocence, but also tenderness and a willingness to learn...

○ halo effect - x reader △

↳ Commander Bradshaw is content with his job as a Top Gun instructor and mentor, and very careful to never abuse his power...

○ songbird - x reader △

↳ bradley and you have rented a cabin for the week, how can you help when bradley has a bad day?

○ flightless bird - x reader △

↳ part 2 of songbird. after yours and bradley's week spent in the cabin, he gets deployed for the first time in quite a while. you welcome him home for valentine's with ardour.

○ free solo - bradley x bob x reader △

↳ bradley finds himself lonely and in need of releasing some tension.

○ hard hitter - x reader - △

↳ sometimes, men are easy to play... bradley included.

○ whiskey sour - x reader - ❣

↳ a look through bradley's times stationed in san diego - seen through the eyes of a lovesick bartender.

○ white christmas - x reader ❣

↳ you and bradley decide to spend christmas abroad - perhaps you'll get to see where santa actually lives?

○ of pet-names and pumpkin patches - x reader - ❣

↳ a sweet fic about pumpkin picking and tender pet-names bradley calls you.

○ difficult - x reader - △

↳ when bradley comes home from deployment, you have many ways of getting him back to you.

○ if not for you - x reader - ❣

↳ a misty november night spent on the sofa cuddling.

○ little wallflower - x hearing impaired!reader

↳ the dagger squad has seen you at the hard deck, and bradley finds you intriguing - but no one's ever spoken to you. he wonders why...

floydshaw;

○ ghosts - bob floyd x bradley « ❣ ↳ after some time of living on base, bob finally tires of the uncomfy bed and limited access to good paths to do his morning runs on. after moving in with rooster, the two of them discover an affinity for film. perhaps horror is not bradley's preferred genre though...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Mise en Place, Chapter 2

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Follows the development of Chef!Matt & Reader's relationship after the events of Cooking Up Love.

Story Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness, no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, developing relationship, things gone get SPICY later 🔥 (aka smut in future chapters), more tags to come as the story progresses

Chapter Word Count: ~2500

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys Chef Matt & Reader's first official date! 🥰

Divider by @theradioactivespidergwen

Tag List: @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41

Matt ran through his mental checklist as he waited for you to arrive. Okay, table is set, wine is open and breathing, salad dressing is made, garlic bread is warming in the oven, pasta is ready to boil, sauce is finished, chicken is ready… Should I have lit some candles? 

He was contemplating changing his shirt when he heard a car slow down to a stop in front of his building. She's here.

He heard you thank your cab driver and shut the door, then take a deep breath before you walked inside Matt's apartment building. 

Matt waited until you had made your way upstairs before heading to answer the door, resisting the urge to just throw it open before you had even reached his apartment.

He took a deep breath of his own as you knocked. Here we go.

He opened the door, the slight uptick in your heartbeat surprisingly calming his own nerves somewhat. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you replied. 

Matt moved out of the doorway. “Come on in.”

He waited as you stepped inside then closed the door behind you. 

You wrapped your arms around him in a hug. “How are you?”

Matt briefly tucked his face into your neck as he hugged you back. “I'm good,” he replied. “How was the rest of your day?”

You gave him a quick squeeze before stepping back. “It was good. I stayed busy, made some notes for my next assignment. How was yours?”

“Mine was good too. I went to the market then started prepping everything for dinner tonight.”

You hummed. “It smells amazing in here, by the way.”

Matt smiled. “Thanks. And actually, everything is ready if you're ready to eat.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great.” Matt held a hand out to you. “Then follow me.”

You took his hand and he led you up the stairs to the roof. “I figured since it was fairly warm tonight we could have dinner up here.”

You let out a light gasp as the two of you stepped out onto the roof. “Matt, this is beautiful.”

Matt grinned. Foggy had helped him set everything up -- they had put twinkle lights up around the perimeter of the rooftop and had spruced up the space with unused decorations from the restaurant in an effort to make the space look romantic and date-like. “I'm glad you like it.”

He led you to the table he had set for the two of you and pulled your chair out for you. “Here, have a seat.”

After you were seated, he poured you each a glass of wine and set the bottle back on the table. “Give me just a second to go get our salads.”

“Okay.”

Matt ran downstairs and put the pasta to boil, then plated your salads before bringing them back upstairs. 

He set yours in front of you. “Okay, here you go.”

“Thank you.”

Matt sat across from you. “So, what's your next article about?”

“It's about the need for donations to Clinton Church’s food bank,” you replied.

A smile spread across Matt's face. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. I met with Father Lantom last Monday for an interview about the various programs the church offers and he mentioned that the food pantry had been running low, so I decided to focus my article on that -- although I am still mentioning the other programs, of course. After all, winter is right around the corner so there's going to be a greater need for coat donations really soon.” 

Aha, Matt thought. So that was the errand that Father Lantom had been on when Matt had gone to get his culinary supplies from the church.

You took a sip of wine before continuing. “My coworkers and I are also setting up a donation drive at work. Along with my article next Monday we'll be publishing a list of items that are needed and placing donation boxes in the lobby of the Bulletin ’s office building, then the following Monday my boss and I are going to go deliver all of the donated goods to Clinton Church along with a monetary donation from the newspaper to help fill in whatever they're still short on.”

“That's a wonderful gesture.”

There was a slight rustle of fabric as you shrugged. “Getting to volunteer with you at the church’s soup kitchen made me want to raise more awareness for people in need, so why not use the platform I’ve been given access to in order to do so?” 

Matt shook his head. He couldn't believe he had ever thought you were anything like how that Kelsie woman had depicted you. “You're amazing, you know that?”

“You're the amazing one. Getting to know you these past couple of weeks…” You paused. “You are genuinely one of the most interesting people I've ever interviewed and I'm really happy to have met you.”

Matt smiled. “I'm really happy to have met you too. And I'm sorry once again for everything.”

“No, it's okay. It was a misunderstanding, but at least we were able to resolve it, right?”

Matt nodded. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

“Of course.” You took a bite of your salad and made an appreciative sound. “Oh, wow. I'm assuming you made this dressing, right?” 

Matt nodded. “Yeah.”

“I can tell. This is way better than the store-bought stuff.”

The two of you finished your salads, then Matt took your empty plates back down and placed them in his sink so he could finish plating the chicken parmesan.

He spooned a bit of marinara sauce on top of each chicken breast, then grated some fresh mozzarella cheese over them before sticking the pan back into the oven to broil for a minute and melt the cheese while he plated the now-cooked pasta and extra sauce.

He took the chicken out of the oven and plated each one, adding a sprinkle of fresh basil along with a piece of homemade garlic bread on the side. Perfect.

He carried the plates upstairs and set them onto the table. “Alright, dinner is served.”

He sat and waited as you took a bite.

“Oh my gosh, this is so good,” you said after you had chewed and swallowed. 

Matt let out a relieved breath. “I'm glad you like it.”

“Mmm.” You took another bite. “Definitely.”

The two of you continued talking even after you had finished your dinner, the hours passing like minutes with the comfort the two of you felt with each other.

“I was thinking we'd have dessert downstairs if that's alright with you,” Matt eventually said as he stood and gathered your plates, utensils, and wine glasses. “I can't finish making it until it's ready to serve and rather than make you wait up here I figured we could just eat it down there.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you replied as you also stood. “Here, let me help you pick the rest of this stuff up.”

Matt shook his head. “No, that's okay, I'll take care of the table stuff later.”

You took the wine glasses from him. “At least let me get these for you.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest again but closed it when you adjusted the wine glasses to carry them in one hand and linked the fingers of your free hand in Matt's now-free one. “Okay,” he said instead.

The two of you walked back downstairs, Matt hoping that the rest of the evening turned out just as well as the beginning had.

To your slight disappointment, Matt let go of your hand once the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs back in his apartment.

He took the wine glasses back from you and nodded over towards the barstools by his kitchen island. “You can have a seat if you want.”

You sat and watched as he set the dirty dishes in his sink then went to his refrigerator, pulling out a metal bowl covered with cling wrap and a carton of heavy cream and setting them on the island in front of you. “Ooh, what's this?”

Matt took a measuring cup out of a drawer and measured out some cream before pouring it into the mixing bowl that was already set up on the island and turning his mixer on. “Chocolate mousse. I can't do the last few steps until I'm actually ready to serve it, so in hindsight I probably should've made something else for dessert so you wouldn't have to be sitting here waiting for me to finish making it.”

You shook your head. “No, it's totally okay. I like watching you cook, even if it just means watching you whip cream in a mixer.”

Matt tilted his head up towards you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. Matt 's ex must not've liked having to wait. “Yeah.”

A smile spread across Matt's face. “Well then you're in luck, because after I whip the cream you also get to watch me mix it into the chocolate.”

You let out a light laugh. “Ooh, exciting.”

Matt's smile morphed into a grin. “Very. Oh by the way, I wasn't sure what drink pairing you'd prefer with dessert so I got several different options, including chai and both regular and decaf coffee in case you didn't want more wine or any extra caffeine than what's already in the chocolate.”

Your heart warmed at Matt's thoughtfulness. “Whichever one you think goes best with it is fine with me.”

Matt nodded. “Chocovine it is then.”

He took two cordial glasses out of a cabinet and gave them a quick rinse, then took what looked like a wine bottle full of chocolate milk out of the wine fridge on his counter.

He poured a bit into each glass and handed one to you before turning the mixer off and testing the consistency of the whipped cream with a spatula.

You watched as Matt nodded in satisfaction then carefully folded all but a few scoops of whipped cream into the bowl of chocolate, your eyes firmly on his biceps as they flexed under his shirt with each rotation of the spatula.

Matt grabbed a couple of cocktail glasses and layered some chocolate mousse into them before topping each one with more whipped cream and fresh chocolate shavings.

He put a small tasting spoon into each one and slid yours over to you. “Dessert is served.”

“Thank you.” You took a bite and let out a pleased moan, the freshly whipped cream tempering the subtle bitterness of the dark chocolate Matt had used. “Ohmigod, Matt, this is heavenly. Totally worth waiting for.”

Matt took a bite of his own dessert. “I’m glad.”

He nodded over at your cordial glass. “Try it with the Chocovine.”

You picked up your glass and took a sip, your eyebrows raising in surprise at the bittersweetness. “What exactly is in this?”

Matt chuckled. “It's red wine that's been mixed with milk chocolate.”

“Ah, okay, it's good. I can definitely see why you'd pair it with chocolate mousse.” You took another bite of your dessert. “It gives it a bit of sweetness without being overpowering.”

Matt nodded. “Exactly. There's several different varieties, but the original goes best with this particular dessert.”

He gestured to his face. “Uh, you have a little…”

“Oh.” You wiped at your mouth. “Did I get it?”

Matt shook his head and walked around the island to you.

He gently cupped your chin in his hand and caressed the corner of your mouth with his thumb before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

You froze for half a second before relaxing into the kiss, the subtle taste of chocolate on Matt's lips making you smile against his mouth.

Matt caressed your cheek as the two of you parted. “I think we got it.”

You huffed out a light laugh. “You think so, huh?”

Your brow furrowed as a realization struck you. “Hey, wait, how'd you even know I had chocolate mousse on my face?”

Matt suddenly looked bashful. “Oh, uh, actually I didn't, I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.”

You smiled and shook your head. As suave and flirty as Matt was, sometimes he was just adorably cute. “You know, you don't need an excuse.”

Matt bit his lip. “I don't?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well in that case…” Matt cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours again.

You wrapped your arms around him, your head swimming pleasantly as he deepened the kiss.

You felt like you could spend forever kissing Matt but unfortunately air because a necessity, so eventually the two of you parted once again.

Matt leaned his forehead to yours as the two of you caught your breaths. “I thought about this,” he murmured. “Last Sunday, while you were here for dinner.”

You leaned back to look at him. “Really?”

“Mmhmm. I thought about telling you how I feel about you, holding you in my arms…” Matt reached up and gently ran his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. “... getting to  kiss you.”

You smiled. “Mmm. And did the real thing measure up to your expectations?”

Matt shook his head and gave you one more soft kiss. “It was even better.”

You sighed happily. “I'm glad.”

A small smirk appeared on Matt's face. “You know, that offer to work out a deal to be your private chef still stands.”

You huffed out a laugh. “In that case I might actually have to take you up on it.”

Matt shook his head, his expression becoming more serious. “Seriously though, I definitely want to keep seeing you, if that's okay.”

Your heart picked up slightly at Matt's confession. “Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You looked towards the window as the distant bells of Clinton Church chimed the hour, surprised to realize that it was already 11 PM. “It's getting late though. I should probably go.”

“Oh.” Matt looked disappointed. “Right, yeah, I'm sure you have an early morning at the paper.”

You hesitated briefly. “Would you, um, would you mind walking me home though? Like I said, it is getting late and cabs are pretty scarce at this time…”

Matt shook his head, a smile spreading across his face once again. “No, not at all. Give me just a second to make sure everything's off.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You grabbed your purse and waited as Matt double-checked to make sure his stove and oven were off before gathering his keys and cane.

“Okay,” he said as he unfolded his cane. “All set.”

He locked his apartment door then took your hand in his as the two of you headed down the hall towards the elevator.

Too soon, the two of you were back at your apartment.

“Thank you for dinner, Matt,” you said as you stopped just outside your building. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

Matt nodded. “I had a wonderful time too.”

You leaned up and gave Matt a soft kiss. “And thank you for walking me home.”

Matt smiled. “It was my pleasure. Can I call you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Great. I'll talk to you then.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You headed inside, smiling softly to yourself. You couldn't wait for your next date with Matt.

[myfaveficrecs]

Creator Spotlight

@bradshawsbitch has a little bit of something for everyone. @roosterforme nominated their blog for a spotlight and it is rightly deserved. Please go check them out if you haven't already and send some love their way.

A Little Q & A:

1: What is your favorite thing you've written or made? oh gosh, this is such a tough question - but a good one! I think I have some babies, for sure, and I definitely consider my White Christmas fic my baby, not because it became popular but because I absolutely adored writing Bradley sort of inserted into a setting that I myself am so familiar with. It made it feel very homey and special to me! Other than that I think my other sort of special babies are Difficult (Bradley), Best Friend (Bob) and Winter Blues (Rhett)!

2: Top 3 favorite creators you want people to check out? ahhh!! god, it truly is amazing how many incredibly talented writer friends I have!!! readers in this fandom really are lucky to have them! I have to say I've fallen so much for @lewmagoo s writing, absolutely delicious depiction of emotions and plots, they are so incredibly creative. @roosterforme is also a given! the way that woman churns out content, I've literally never seen anything like it. Her readers should consider themselves BLESSED as all hell (sorry, am I allowed to cuss in this interview? jokes hehe)! and of course, my love @roleycoleyficcenter - the way I fucking tore through her masterlist after finishing House We Share was perhaps alarming, and Coley is SO sweet she really just welcomed my incoherent screaming about her characters with such kindness!

3: An idea you have for a future work that people should look out for? Ohhh, well, I am just a little bit notorious for having many ideas but having such a hard time putting it down "on paper" but I do have a little Bradley x flight attendant idea going on, of course, the Vinny oneshot I'm writing in collaboration with Emily, and sometimes soon-ish the next chapter of my Mise en Place series!

Taglist: 

@roosterscock  

@roosterforme  

@bradshawsbitch  

@jupitercomet  

@seresinhangmanjake  

@fandomxpreferences  

@wildbornsiren  

@babyrooster

@ohtobeleah  

@callsign-marlie  

@callsign-milano  

@oncasette  

@topguncortez  

@topgun-imagines  

@roleycoleyreccenter  

@call-sign-shark  

@cherrycola27  

@thedroneranger  

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways  

@roosterbruiser  

@teacupsandtopgun  

@endofdays56 

@princessphilly 

@wolfmoonmusic 

@phoenix1388 

@wintercap89 

@timbradfordsboot 

@je-suis-prest-rachel 

@adaydreamaway08 

@flowers-and-fichte 

@mak-32 

@greatszu 

[themerlinlibrary]

Favourites Friday (May 2024) – Fusions and Crossovers

TML Favourites Friday round-up! May 2024 round 4

What is Favourites Friday? – The Basics

a different theme is announced on Friday each week; FF recs must match the theme of the week

only one FF rec per person per week/theme

FF recs must be unique within that week/theme; no double-posting the same fic for one theme!

no self-recs during regular rounds

only self-recs during self-rec rounds (last Friday of each month)

Theme for week 4: Fusions and Crossovers!

The Immortal and the Revenant by RileyWilliamsJr Not Rated, 153k Canon Divergence AU, Harry Potter crossover

May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home by orphan_account E, 40k, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern Setting AU, Fantasy AU, Alice in Wonderland AU

This Remarkable Season by s0mmer and papysanzo E, 79k, Merlin/Arthur  Bridgerton AU

Only A Boy by RiddellLee E, 320k (series) Harry Potter AU

The Hawk and the Bear by Excited_insomniac and Papysanzo89 T, 17k, Merlin/Arthur Ladyhawke AU

Tributes by TheAvalonian M, 88k, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Hunger Games Crossover

Fulcrum by beren E, 39k, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Harry Potter, Vampires

That Loving Feeling by ravenwilds T, 32k, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Top Gun AU

Mise En Place by Papysanzo89 and s0mmerspr0ssen E, 30k, Merlin/Arthur Based on the 2001 film Bella Martha

Barbarian King by thenerdyindividual M, 48k, Lancelot/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Dungeons & Dragons AU, Fantasy AU

Merlin: A Hogwarts History by Mamalazzer M, 86k, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Harry Potter AU, Soulmates

A masterlist of all round-ups can be found here.

If you want to make sure you never miss a FF rec, or would like to participate and share your own favourites; join us on the Discord TheMerlinLibrary! Happy reading!

About the FF round-up lists:

Recs are listed in the order they were posted on the Discord; the order does not imply any sort of ranking.

The pairing given in this list is the main pairing of each respective fic – please read the tags for any possible minor or side-pairings, as well as any potential warnings or triggers.

Pairings and Eras are given as tagged in each respective fic. (?) signifies that the tags were unclear and I do not know enough about the fic to fill the gaps.

Round-ups are compiled on the weekend of the week after the respective theme of the post (when the new theme has already been anounced), to avoid omitting potentially belated FF recs.

The weekly round-up is not a guarantee! I'm running this alone, so it can only be posted for weeks when I have enough time on my hands to compile a list. If you'd like to help out, feel free to contact me on Tumblr ( @zaharya ) or Discord. Thanks to @ravenwilds for helping me out with these round-ups, and to Chel for making a whole-ass bot to make it easier!

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Mise En Place Masterlist

ONGOING

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6 ♡ Part 7 ♡ Part 8 ♡ Part 9 ♡ Part 10

AU MASTERLIST

[marie-swriting]

Perte De Temps | Plus Maintenant - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Emails I Can't Send Masterlist

Partie une

Partie une - deux (version anglaise)

Résumé : Tu arrives enfin à oublier Jake, mais maintenant, c'est lui qui n'arrive pas à t'enlever de sa tête.

Warnings : Jake est un connard, angst, consommation d'alcool (l'abus d'alcool est dangereux pour la santé !), fin triste (pour Jake), dites-moi si j'en ai oublié d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 1.9k

Chanson qui m'a inspiré : Feather par Sabrina Carpenter

Alors que tu es en train d’appliquer du fard à paupières, la musique de ton téléphone se coupe pour laisser place à ta sonnerie. Tu baisses les yeux et découvres un nom que tu ne pensais plus voir apparaître sur ton écran : celui de Jake. Jake interrompant ta vie n’est malheureusement pas quelque chose d'inhabituel, tu te rappelles bien de la dernière fois que c’est arrivé. 

C’était il y a environ cinq mois. Tu étais dans une situation similaire, tu étais en train de te préparer pour sortir quand Jake t’a appelé et étant encore désespérément amoureuse de lui, tu as décroché en moins d’une seconde. Au début, tu as essayé d’être forte, ne voulant pas lui céder aussi facilement, cependant Jake est un beau parleur, il a su trouver les mots justes pour te faire tomber dans ses bras à nouveau. Au téléphone, Jake était désespéré de te retrouver, d’être l’homme que tu méritais. Il t’a dit tout ce que tu rêvais d’entendre et tu l’as cru. Tu aurais dû te douter que ce n’était que du vent. Jake et toi êtes retournés ensemble pendant deux semaines avant qu’il ne t’abandonne, mais pas en te plaquant par appel téléphonique, non, cette fois, il t’a ghosté. À ce moment-là, c’était la deuxième fois qui le faisait, autant dire que tu as fini par retenir ta leçon. Tu as tout fait pour oublier Jake et te focaliser sur toi et ta carrière dans la Navy. Et tu peux affirmer sans te tromper que tu as réussi. 

En effet, alors que ton téléphone continue de sonner, le nom de Jake te narguant, tu décides de raccrocher. Toutefois, tu ne t’arrêtes pas là. Tu déverrouilles ton téléphone et tu bloques Jake avant de supprimer son contact. En appuyant sur “supprimer ce contact”, tu sens un poids s’enlever de tes épaules. Ton histoire avec Jake est officiellement dans le passé. Tu n’as pas craqué et tu as supprimé la dernière chose qui te reliait à lui. Fière de toi, tu reposes ton téléphone, relances ta musique et tu continues de te maquiller. 

Une fois prête, tu te rends au bar à une vingtaine de minutes de chez toi. Tu retrouves tes amies qui se sont aussi mises sur leur trente-et-un. Vous commandez quelques boissons puis vous vous racontez les derniers potins. Pour la première fois depuis longtemps, tu arrives à passer une soirée avec tes amies sans être déprimée à cause de Jake. Tu rigoles, tu bois, tu danses et tu t’amuses comme tu ne l’avais pas fait depuis longtemps. Tu es tellement dans ta bulle que tu n’entends pas la porte du bar s’ouvrir. Jake et Javy entrent dans le bar, habillés de leur kaki. Jake entend ton rire tout de suite même si tu es à l’opposé de lui. Il te regarde avec tendresse alors que tu continues de t’esclaffer avec tes amies. Jake doit avouer qu’il n’a pas choisi ce bar par hasard. Il sait que tu viens souvent ici avec tes amies et n’ayant pas eu de réponses à ses coups de fils, il avait un petit espoir de te retrouver ici. Il veut te parler, régler les choses et ce soir a l’air d’être le moment parfait. Jake informe Javy qu’il doit s’occuper de quelque chose et qu’il le rejoindra après. Accoudé contre le comptoir, Jake commande une bière pour lui et un verre de bordeaux pour toi - il sait que c’est ton vin préféré tout comme c’est aussi le sien, c’était un de vos nombreux points communs. Pendant qu’il se dirige vers ta table, il sort son meilleur sourire en coin. Avec tes amies, vous buvez cul sec votre shot quand Jake est devant vous.

-Je vous paye une autre tournée de shots, les filles, ça me fait plaisir. 

En entendant la voix de Jake, ton sourire tombe et tes yeux lui lancent des éclairs. 

-Qu’est-ce que tu fais là ?

-Je voulais t’offrir ce verre, dit-il en le posant devant toi. 

-Non, je veux dire qu’est-ce que tu me veux, Jake ? Tu me stalkes ou quoi ?

-Attends, c’est lui Jake ? demande une de tes amies en le regardant de haut en bas.

-Tu as parlé de moi ? Seulement en bien, j’espère, déclare Jake avec un clin d'œil.

-Wow, tu rigolais pas quand tu parlais de son égo surdimensionné, réplique une autre de tes amies en lançant un regard appuyé aux autres femmes.

-Ce n’est pas de ma faute si je suis le meilleur. Mais, passons, je ne suis pas là pour parler de mes exploits, j’aurais aimé te parler, Y/N.

-Et j’ai hâte de pas te parler donc au revoir.

-Y/N, s’il te plait.

-Je suis venue ici avec mes amies, pas pour être avec un ex collant, rétorques-tu alors que Jake essaie de faire bonne figure. 

-Je veux juste faire amende honorable, tu le mérites.

-Pour que tu puisses me remettre dans ton lit avant de me jeter comme une vieille chaussette à nouveau ? Je crois pas, non, alors reprends ton verre de vin et pars, réponds-tu sèchement et tu entends tes amies te soutenir.

-D’accord, je te laisse tranquille, mais tu peux garder le verre, je sais que c’est ton vin préféré, offre-t-il avec un sourire fier.

-Ça ne l’est pas, en fait. C’est ton vin préféré, je faisais semblant d’aimer pour toi. Hors de ma vue, finis-tu en lui redonnant son verre.

Suite à ta réplique, Jake repars avec le vin, sa bière et son sourire en coin afin de cacher son égo blessé. Il ne s’attendait pas à ce que tu le remballes à ce point. Il n’est pas idiot, il savait que tu ne retomberais pas dans ses bras comme la première fois, mais tu n’avais jamais employé ce ton sec contre lui auparavant. Jake pose le verre de vin sur le comptoir avant de retrouver Javy qui ne peut s’empêcher de rigoler ayant regardé la scène au loin. 

Le reste de la soirée se résume à Jake t’admirant au loin t’amuser alors que sa présence ne te préoccupe pas le moins du monde. Jake essaie de trouver une solution pour que tu l’écoutes. Contrairement aux autrefois où il n’était pas trop sûr de lui et de votre relation, cette fois, il veut faire les choses biens, il veut être l’homme que tu veux être. Il sait que tu ne le croiras pas facilement, mais il a bon espoir d’y arriver s’il trouve les bons mots. Javy lui conseille de lâcher l’affaire, voyant très bien que tu es passée à autre chose, mais Jake est têtu. 

A un moment pendant la soirée, tu te rends aux toilettes et alors que tu es en train de te laver les mains, la porte s’ouvre sur Jake. Tu soupires, mais tu ne lui donnes pas plus d’attention.

-Je t’ai appelé ce soir, plusieurs fois, commence-t-il plus humblement que la première fois.

-Je sais.

-Ah bon ? Comme tu n’as pas répondu, je pensais que…

-J’ai ignoré l’appel et au cas où tu voudrais essayer de m’appeler à nouveau dans le futur, ça ne sert à rien, je t’ai bloqué, l’interromps-tu en le regardant dans les yeux. 

-Ok, je comprends pourquoi, je le mérite, j’ai été un connard avec toi.

-C’est le moins qu’on puisse dire. J’ai tout donné pour toi et toi, tu m’as juste donné des peines de cœur. 

-Je sais et je veux arranger les choses. Je n’ai pas été réglo avec toi en rompant sans avoir de bonnes raisons et après en revenant dans ta vie juste pour te laisser seule à nouveau. Je n’aurais pas dû faire ça. Je pense que j’avais peur de m’engager, mais plus maintenant. Cette fois, je te le promets, je serai quelqu’un de meilleur, je serai l’homme que tu mérites, je saurai m’engager avec toi, affirme-t-il, te faisant rire jaune. 

-Comme la dernière fois ? Et la fois d’avant ?

-Non, cette fois je le pense et je veux le faire. Je vais le faire. Tu me manques et tu ne peux pas t’imaginer à quel point je m’en veux. J’aurais dû réaliser que j’étais chanceux de faire partie de ta vie et ne pas gâcher ce qu’on avait. J’ai perdu la seule bonne relation que j’ai jamais eue juste parce que j’ai été trop con. 

-Qu’est-ce que tu veux que je te dise ? Toutes mes condoléances pour ta perte, mais c’est trop tard, Jake, répliques-tu, complètement agacée. Tu as eu ta chance, tu as eu trop de chances même. C’est toujours pareil avec toi. Je suis toujours la femme de tes rêves et après quand ça devient sérieux, tu prends tes jambes à ton cou. Tu n’arrêtes pas de me de m’envoyer des signaux contradictoires et j’en ai ma claque.  

Dans ta voix, la colère et la douleur se mélangent et le sentiment de culpabilité de Jake s’agrandit. 

-Cette fois, je te promets que c’est différent, je ne te briserai pas le cœur. Je t’aime et je te veux dans ma vie, je veux faire partie de ta vie. 

-Il y a un moment de ma vie où ce genre de discours auraient fonctionné et tu le sais très bien car tu en as abusé à de nombreuses reprises et à chaque fois, je retombais dans tes bras, car j'espérais désespérément que tu aies changé, mais ça n’a jamais été le cas, accuses-tu en le pointant du doigt. J’ai essayé, je suis restée attachée à toi plus longtemps que je n’aurais dû. Tu hantais chacune de mes pensées au point où je n’arrêtais pas d’imaginer des scénarios où tu serais devenu un homme meilleur et c’est pour ça qu’à chaque fois que tu me donnais ne serait-ce qu’une légère impression que tu étais devenu l’homme que j’avais imaginé, je retombais dans tes bras. Tu me rendais folle tellement, tu occupais mon esprit, mais plus maintenant. Avant, j’aurais répondu à ton coup de fil en une seconde. Avant, j’aurais lâché mes amies pour toi. Avant, j’aurais passé ma soirée à me demander ce que tu faisais la soirée. Maintenant, ce n’est plus le cas et mon Dieu, ça fait tellement du bien de ne plus penser à où est-ce que tu pourrais être, à ne plus lâcher les personnes qui comptent pour moi, à ne plus désespérément attendre un signe de vie de toi. J’ai perdu trop de temps pour toi et je ne le ferai plus jamais. Tu n’as pas idée à quel point je me sens plus légère depuis que tu as quitté ma tête. Je t’ai enfin coupé de ma vie et je me sens tellement mieux. Alors, non, Jake, tu ne peux pas refaire partie de ma vie. Peu importe si tu es sincère ce soir quand tu dis que tu veux changer, que tu veux être un homme meilleur, personnellement, je ne veux pas voir ça. Et puis, si tu dois devenir quelqu’un de meilleur, fais-le pour toi. Si tu le fais pour quelqu’un d’autre, ça sera toujours temporaire. Tu dois changer car tu veux changer pour toi-même, pas pour plaire à une femme. En tout cas, j’espère que notre histoire te servira de leçon, que tu ne prendras plus pour acquis la femme en face de toi et que tu garderas en tête qu’à un moment, elle en pourra en avoir marre de tes conneries et qu’elle te laissera comme je le fais. Tout ça pour dire, assure toi d’avoir arrangé tous tes problèmes d’engagement avant de trouver une nouvelle femme, comme ça, tu ne feras pas ce que tu sais faire de mieux, la laisser en plan. Arrête d’être Hangman et devient Jake.

Jake reste planté là pendant qu’il tente de digérer ce que tu viens de lui dire, comprenant qu’il a ruiné toutes ses chances avec toi. De ton côté, tu n’attends pas une seconde de plus et tu sors des toilettes, claquant la porte derrière toi et en abandonnant également Jake.

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