#we'd make so much cool shit

[polarfarina]

I am really sore from work I wish riding five hours in the car didn't require having your feet on the ground

[steampunkedparm]

gods fuck i figured it out moonsetter is aching loneliness, its isolation, its that faint hint of optimism when you step outside, its knowing your fucked but pushing on anyways trying to fruitlessly reach out and grasp what matters

[love-belle]

well, i'm still in love with you !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them soft launching each other while driving their friends wild.

or

for when you're still in love with them and will be for forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - saw ur mom at the grocery store ·˚ ༘

warnings - language. suggestive jokes (???)

author's note - im so SORRY for not updating life is CRAZY rn like ???? so much has happened like im in LOVE im DONE with SCHOOL i have EXAMS SJSHSJSJKSKS im so sorry i hope u like this i love u all <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 1,725,819 others

yourusername he's in my head so much i might as well just give him some

11,628 comments

username HOLD UP

username im shaking in my big girl boots rn what the Fuck

username y/n ?????

username SCREECHING

username roman empire or roman empire

username IM DYING OH MY GOD

landonorris just because you can type something doesn't mean you SHOULD

-> yourusername shut up u literally sprouted like an unwanted weed and not even the good kind

-> yourusername i am sorry that was mean

-> landonorris 😕

-> username someone keep these two away from each other before y/n makes lando cry 😭

username live love laugh y/n y/l/n

username i need cameras recording their whole vacation !!!!!!!!!

username this whole holiday will be so much more entertaining than 90% of all the tv shows out there 😭😭

username lord i pray that this is about charles

maxverstappen1 you didn't hear it from me but he's giggling

-> yourusername tell him to stop giggling and help me chase those seagulls away

-> landonorris LEAVE MY SEAGULLS ALONE

-> yourusername THEY ATE MY SANDWICH

username rip y/n's hater girl era u will be missed 😞☝️

username i know charles is thoroughly enjoying this like

username i will get over a lot of things in life but i will never get over lando and max joining the y/l/n-leclerc vacation simply because they do not trust charles to do the sensible thing

-> yourusername actually they're all dumb

-> maxverstappen1 excuse you

-> yourusername u called grey "dark white"

-> maxverstappen1 I PAID TO KEEP QUIET

-> yourusername blocking out the haters 🫸🙄🫷

username forever entertained by this group they never disappoint

username need me a max and lando to get me a bf or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

username waiting for charles to come here and say some stupid shit before going on with my day !!!!

charles_leclerc i bet u think about me

-> yourusername nah bc no way ferrari can make u THIS delusional what's the cause

-> yourusername i am sorry i was told that i cannot say shit about ferrari clown private limited whatever corporation

-> username please never change

charles_leclerc i will make u pasta !!!!!!!!

-> yourusername no thank u i saw what happened to arthur

-> charles_leclerc THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT THE PASTA WAS NOT GOOD

-> yourusername skill issue

charles_leclerc where r u

-> yourusername why r u typing like that

-> charles_leclerc lando said it's cool

-> yourusername lando thinks birds don't have feet don't believe him

-> landonorris why am i catching strays

username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLES LIED TO GET MAX AND LANDO ON VACATION 😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,167,926 others

charles_leclerc we'd still worship this love

12,628 comments

username NAH WHO IS THIS MAN

username OH ??????

username false god lyrics imma die 🤣🤣🤣

username y/n effect is so real

username PLEASE NOT CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING HIS EX 😭😭😭

-> username y'all put some respect on my girl's name 😭

-> yourusername i am no one's ex i will sue u for defamation

-> charles_leclerc for legal reasons she's JOKING

-> yourusername how do U know that tf

-> username i missed this

username hshshdjssjdjsjjsajjn;;;;;;;;bwywuuaj;...

username crying this is everything i've prayed for

username no one's mentioning the fact that charles wasn't even supposed to go on the vacation 😭😭😭

-> landonorris he booked his tickets and acted like it was a mistake

-> charles_leclerc you're a mistake

-> username and THAT'S how i know y/n and charles are back together 🤞🤞🤞

username i need a documentary on this vacation u don't GET it

username max and lando we trust u

maxverstappen1 you just pushed your love in water

-> charles_leclerc she told me i looked like tweety from looney toons

-> maxverstappen1 well

username crying i love every second of this

username i need to study this man's brain under a microscope like

-> username his thought process is just so UNIQUE

username i need them to confirm their relationship so i can breathe a sigh of relief thank u

username need me a man who posts like this

yourusername told u taylor swift songs slap

-> charles_leclerc highkey

yourusername i'm the most hilarious person ever idk why ur mad

-> charles_leclerc you called me tweety

-> yourusername hilarious

-> charles_leclerc my lover's got humour

-> yourusername OMGGGGG

yourusername we might just get away with this

-> charles_leclerc i told you, if you commit murder i will NOT be an accomplice

-> yourusername those are lyrics but fuck u too i guess

username i prayed for times like this 🤞🤞

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

charles_leclerc added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 1,972,628 others

yourusername well i'm still in love with u 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 (❤️)

tagged charles_leclerc

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,126,891 others

charles_leclerc 2 out of 262819 photos where she stole my phone and the one (1) photo with me in it like okaaaaaaaaaay (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️)

tagged yourusername

12,728 comments

username NAHHH WHO TAUGHT HIM HOW TO TYPE LIKE THAT

username PLEASE OMG

username andddddddd we're 🔙 to having charles have a breakdown every single time y/n (HIS GIRLFRIEND) interacts with him

username god heard my prayers

username why do i have a feeling lando and max went EXTREME

-> yourusername if u call pushing us both off the yacht and not letting us back on until we said "hiiiiii" civilly to each other extreme, then yes. they were EXTREME.

-> charles_leclerc still mad about it. i said "hiiiii 😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘" and you said "hi 😐😐😐😐."

-> yourusername sorry i was too busy finding ways to poison u then ❤️❤️❤️ im good and better now ❤️❤️❤️ (police and officials LOOK AWAY)

-> username netflix needs to leave dts and document THIS

username someone should write a book on this vacation and it should be max ☝️☝️☝️

username WAR IS OVERRRRR

username they're BACK god bless

username the way i KNOW charles is thanking max and lando on his knees like homeboy would be stuck without them fr

-> danielricciardo excuse you i was the mastermind

-> landonorris you literally did nothing except sit on ft for hours and yell at us.

-> danielricciardo tell that to all those thank you texts (money) charles sent me

-> landonorris YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WILL BE GETTING PAID charles_leclerc

-> charles_leclerc i sent him $1 because heidi asked me to

-> heidiberger_ he threatened to fly out to italy i did everyone a favour

username the y/n effect is coming back with full throttle like yeaaaaaaaaah

username i need a trilogy on this vacation like i need EVERYTHING

username the way i KNOW both of their families just rejoiced like they were going through it 😭😭😭

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord and heavens for daniel ricciardo, max verstappen and lando norris

yourusername i look so good wtfff

-> charles_leclerc yes you do 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

yourusername bébé ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc mon ange ( my angel )

yourusername soulmates 4 sure

-> charles_leclerc 👍

-> username lord i am not your strongest soldier

-> username why is he like this 😭😭😭

yourusername lowk missed taking 26271727 selfies on ur phone

-> charles_leclerc missed seeing your pretty face every time i opened my gallery 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

-> username y/n never leave him again please

-> username my man's TRAUMATISED

[carmenized-onions]

Don't Say It. | Closing Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I called you a lot of things.”

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

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

“Charmin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

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

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

“And the cat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you thought about it?”

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

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

“Did you go through with it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

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

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

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

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

“Squ—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're heard.”

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

“I don’t have weird little hands—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Hi—”

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

“Heard.”

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

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

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

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

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

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

“Heard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

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

“Yessir!”

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Drinking thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that might be best.”

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

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

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

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

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Chef.”

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

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

It is weird to feel seen by a rat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

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

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

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

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

“You’ll come?”

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

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

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

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

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“List for what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Carmy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad, how?” 

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

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

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

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

“I think that’s life.”

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

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

“Steak with pop rocks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It gives you both away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funny, she’s thinking the same thing. Together, you speak. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

“Triple Jinx!” It’s on the third one that you decide to let her win and not say it a fourth time. 

It’s on the fourth one that Syd decides she doesn’t want to win. “Quadr— Man, this sucks.”

You know exactly what she means. You fall out of your squat, sitting on your butt with a frown. “It literally would’ve just taken one phone call.” You could’ve been doing this for years.

She sits down next to you, back against the front of the bed. “There were a lot of moments, where I thought to call you, honestly.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like uhm—” Syd’s face scrunches up her face, she’s already opened her mouth so she has to tell you, but she’s realizing she probably shouldn’t tell you. “There was this fucked day at The Beef, where we set up online orders, and I forgot to tick off pre-order—”

You unscrew the bottle cap, squinting. “I feel like that should automatically be off.” 

“That’s what I’m fucking saying!” She slaps your knee with the back of her hand, “But uh, no it was fucking on— And we got like— Like fucked— Said that already. Hundreds of orders. And it was so much and and— Richie was, at the time, kind of a dick—” 

“You don’t have to mince, I know what he was.” You take a sip of water, nodding. He’s a work in progress, as are you all.

“He was being a bitch and— And— I might’ve maybe lowkey stabbed him.”

“Holy fuck?!” You have to laugh, out of sheer shock. You choke on your water. “Syd?!”

“It— Swear to God—” Syd raises one hand, and puts the other over her heart. “Was an accident. Like— Like I was saying I would, and also I was like—  Thinking about it— But I didn’t mean to actually do it— Like he walked into it—”

“Jesus Christ, Manslaughter Sydney—!” “No! …A little. On occasion.”

“You ever wanna stab Carmy?” “Oh, all the fucking time.”

“Fair.” You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. You see each other, you take care of each other, without being asked. 

“And after a brutal stabbing—” “It was barely a graze, to his ass.” “—You thought to call me?”

“Yeah. You’re like. I dunno. I—” She sighs, taking a beat. “I’ve heard people talk about like— When they’re in a life or death scenario, or panicking, their first thought is like ‘I gotta call my mom’.” Syd clutches onto the water bottle like it’s a life preserver. “But I like— Like I don’t have that instinct, duh, dead mom club— But like, like my instinct when I’m scared is to call you.”

“You should’ve.” You want to take her hand, but don’t. Still working on that hesitation. You’ll both get there.

“You should’ve, too.” Syd lightly punches your knee. She tucks her lips in a line, thinking. “I would’ve been there.”

“I think I kinda got stuck in the same thought Mikey had, with Carmen.” You prop your knee up, hugging it to you. “Didn’t wanna drag you down with me. Didn’t want you to know I— That I’m not really uhm— That I’m not all that great.”

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water. In a good way. She continues. “I didn’t ask you to be my somme, either. I always thought you were cool. I would always think you’re cool.”

“I…” You clear your throat, controlling your micro-expressions poorly. “I— I know. I think I just… Always do too much? Like I do everything to make myself like— Needed.”

If they need you, they can’t leave you. Though, that didn’t really stop you two from growing apart, so there goes that theory. 

“You are needed.” Syd nearly rolls her eyes at you, but realizes that might be insensitive.

Syd could’ve called Terry, when the walk-in door broke. She called you. Syd could’ve called Claire— They’re not all that close, but she could’ve, when Nat went into labour. She called you. Syd could’ve called Fak, when Carmen’s oven broke. She called you. It’s insane that you’d ever think you weren’t her lifeline. 

But she clarifies anyway, “Not that— Not that you need to be needed though, for me to want you around.”

You snatch the water bottle from her. “Well, I know that now.”

“Good.”

You all but chug the water, God you’re dehydrated. Syd laughs, “It’s not gonna fucking run away from you.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” You grin, screwing the cap back on. Sniffing, you sober up a little. “We’re never not gonna be friends again.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Lest you go full on He Had it Comin’ on your fuckin’ co-workers again.”

She scoffs. “I promise to try to not stab someone in your presence.” 

“Deal.” You both laugh. You put your hand out to her, and without confirmation, do a handshake that must be more than a decade old. Dap, up-down, jellyfish out. Though, for your purposes, squid out. 

Incredible, you’ve hit Syd with love and nostalgia, she has to say yes now. “We’re roadtripping with Richie and Carmen instead of taking the Greyhound.”

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” “It will be fun—” “Define fun for me, right now—” “We can get Christmas shopping done—”

“Fuck. Christmas is in a week.” “I know!” 

Syd scrunches up her nose. “What do I get my dad?”

“Sounds like you need to do some window shopping.” You could probably recommend something if you thought about it for two more seconds, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to drag her along. “We could go to a Tiffany’s or something.”

“What and get him a locket?” “I’m honestly just naming stores, at this point.”

She’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. “...Could go to the MET, go through the gift shop. He’s a tchotchke guy.”

You hum, nodding. You can get her to fold. “Look at some expos, get some artistic inspiration?”

Syd’s eyes roll back, and she rolls her head back with them, head on the edge of the bed, in dismay. “...Are we doing gifts?” 

You shrug, “Was thinking I’d get you a little something.”

“So super over the top and extravagant?” “What’s the fun in telling?” “I hate you.” “So you’ll come?”

She sighs, husky. “Yeah…” She says it like she’s upset but you both know Syd is a little excited. 

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

A comfortable silence fills the room. You flop your back down on the floor, laying on the carpet. “Thank you for helping Carmy.”

“Didn’t do much.” Syd shrugs, lazily turning her head on the bed to you. “He just needs pushing, sometimes.”

You hum, nodding. “Well, thank you for pushing.”

“You’re so welcome, dude.” You both laugh, and after another long gap of silence, she kicks you. “Stop lying on the dirty ass hotel floor, we paid for a bed.” 

“There’s something about laying on the floor, man.” You shake your head. “Get down here. I can see the scope of the universe from down here, actually.”

With a profoundly deep sigh, Syd rolls over to you. Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles. “Oh yeah, secrets of the universe, right there.”

“I told you.” You nod, wisely. You frown. “...When do you think it’s like, too soon, to say ‘I love you’?”

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—” “Just answer!” “Definitely right now is too fucking soon!” “Well, yeah, I fuckin’ figured—!” “I’d say like, another month or two, minimum.”

“I think I might explode, by then, if I’m being honest.” You turn your head to her. “I’m really worried I’m gonna forget I haven’t already said it and I’m gonna say it at a stupid moment and it’s gonna be lame and embarrassing and bad.”

Syd turns her head to you. “Yeah, that’s probably what’s gonna happen.”

“Okay, so you’re no fuckin’ help.” You snort. 

“What do you want me to say? You love to the point of embarrassment.” She shrugs, smiling at your demise. But then Syd sobers up a little, turning her body to face you, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you sure, though?”

“I think so, yeah.” You cross your arms, nodding, assuring yourself, practically. “I feel what I think can only be described as emotionally violent— affectionately. And I think that’s what love is. Pretty sure.”

“Hm.” Syd watches you watch her. You’re absolutely getting lost in your own brain. She pokes the space between your eyebrows, you wake back up. “What’s in there?”

You blink, “Thinking of all the worst ways I could say it.” In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth.

“Okay, that sounds awful and unproductive so let’s go to bed, huh?” Syd grunts, sitting up. She reaches for your hand to help you stand up with her. “Just try saying it normal.”

You take a breath, looking her in the eyes, say it normal. “Love you.”

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

“Oh, so I can say it—” “In two months.”

“Wait, is one more month hard off the table now—” “Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!”

Just try to make it to next year without saying it, you’d take that happily. Just make it to Christmas. Okay, maybe just make it until you get back to Chicago…Maybe just take a vow of silence. 

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!”

wooooo

was it everything you expected? i hope so. or hope not? suspense and what not. i won't rant too much about it because i'm loopy from staring at my computer at work all day and then answering asks all night. but please send thoughts!!

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Next Part

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

**Ahem ehem** slides over 5 boxes of sweets more cow reader content pls:D

Yall're gonna make me gain 20lbs i swear

CW: fem cow hybrid reader (reader has breasts and a vagina), bull hybrids, F/M/M/M/M, smut, pet names, vaginal sex, double penetration, handjobs, oral (male receiving), creampies, cumshots

───────────────

"Y/N~" cooed one of the bulls as he slipped beside you. "Where ya goin?"

"To the field," you replied, pointing to the pasture behind the barn.

"Mmm, what're ya gonna do out there?"

"Dunno," you shrugged. "Maybe take a nap. It's really nice out today."

"Mmhm, it is. I'll come with you. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out there on your own." You laughed breathily, brushing him off. You knew what he was trying to do.

"Ah, you don't have to. I'll be okay, I'm just going to that tree over there."

"But that's so faaaaar. I'll miss you if you go that far away." His hand found your waist, giving your soft flesh a squeeze. "Cmon, lemme go with you and keep you company."

"Oi." The two of you turned to see another one of the bulls approaching you. "He botherin you, sweetcheeks?"

"N-No..."

"Yeah right. He's trynna get you alone, huh?"

"Was not."

"Was to. It's fuckin obvious yer trynna keep her to yerself."

"Fellas, fellas," called out the third bull as he came back into the barn. "No fightin, not in front of Y/N. Yall promised to share."

"Yeah," chimed in the fourth bull as he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. "This heifer is all of ours, not just yours, 'kay?" The first and second bulls huffed, crossing their arms, looking away. The third bull sucked his teeth, smacking the other two's shoulders.

"Lighten up. Yall agreed to this last week. Quit poutin and suck it up."

"Hmm so where were ya headed, Y/N?" the fourth asked.

"Out to the field... u-under the tree. I was gonna take a nap."

"Yeah? Why dontcha take a nap in here, pretty?" He pressed his hips into your backside, his cock twitching against your ass. "We could all take a nap together."

"I dunno... I kinda wanted to take a nap alone..."

"Whaaaat? Why's that? Dontcha wanna cuddle with us, princess?" asked one.

"I-I do, but—"

"But nuthin, baby girl. Let's all sleep here. We can cuddle up in here where it's nice and cool, don't that sound nice?"

"I dunno..."

"Come oooooon, Y/N," cooed another. "Let's go to bed in here, have a nice lil nap before dinner."

You weren't given the chance to choose: the four bulls were already dragging you along to your pen, surrounding you on all sides.

"So... who do ya wanna sleep next to?"

"Um—"

"She's sleepin by me."

"And me."

"Now hold on, yall got to sleep next to her last night! We should have a turn."

"Yeah."

"Y/N likes sleeping by me the most, dontcha, pretty?"

"Well—"

"Shut up, you don't know shit!"

"Look who's talkin!"

"W-Wait!" you shouted, grabbing all of their attention. "Please don't fight, it makes me sad. I hate when you guys fight..."

The four bulls softened at that, sighing and glancing at each other.

"We're sorry, baby."

"Yeah, we didn't mean to upset you."

"We just... we all just like you so much."

"Yeah, and we just wanna spend time with you."

"We're sorry."

"I forgive you," you muttered, "just don't do it anymore, okay?"

"Okay, princess."

"We promise to do better."

"Okay... thank you."

"You don't gotta thank us, sweetcheeks."

"Yeah, we should be thanking you."

"...What for?"

"For lettin us do this." The bull behind you cupped your tits, giving them a gentle squeeze. You gasped, tensing under his touch.

"W-What?!"

"Mmm, yeah, and for this." Another bull reached out, cupping your pussy in his large hand, grinding his palm against you.

"W-Wait! You said we'd take a nap!"

"We will, we will."

"But we can have some fun first, can't we?"

One bull grabbed your ass, another ran his hand over his stomach. Their big hands started roaming your body, kneading your plush flesh. You whined, squirming under their touch.

"Aww, look at her."

"She's so cute."

"Just wanna eat you up, princess."

"Wanna spoil you."

"Wanna make you feel good."

Before you knew it, you were maneuvered into one's lap, his thick cock prodding at your cunt. Two of them slowly lowered you down onto his cock, the third one kissing you and swallowing your moans. Once you adjusted to the first, you felt another bull behind you, his fat cock prodding at your cunt as well, stretching your poor hole.

"W-Wait! I can't fit two of you!"

"Cmon, baby, let's just try."

"Bet it'll feel soooo good, pretty."

"Lemme just—"

The head of his cock popped inside of you, making you gasp. You scratched at the bull's shoulders below you, moaning as the second bull pushed in slowly, filling you to the brim. You whined once his hips met yours, feeling sooo full.

"There, look at that. It fit just fine."

"Ahh... I-I can't do this—"

"Shhh, just breathe baby. This'll feel so good in a minute."

The two bulls pulled out, pushing back in and making you gasp for air. They started slow, pumping in and out of you, taking your breath away with each thrust.

"Hey, cmon, sweetcheeks. Ya got two hands, dontcha?"

The other two bulls guided your hands to their hard cocks, coaxing you to wrap your fingers around them and start jerking them off. The four of them rocked against you slowly, low moans filling the room as they used you for their pleasure. One of them starting rubbing your clit, another one rubbed your nipples. You became a moaning mess within minutes, gasping and whining as they filled you up your cunt and hands. One of them gently turned your face towards his cock, pushing the head past your lips. You sucked the head of his cock for a minute before the other bull pulled you off, directing your head towards his own cock and pushing it into your mouth.

You didn't know how long it all lasted or how many times you came. All you knew was that you were feeling such an intense pleasure that you were on the verge of tears.

"Oh god—"

"Shit, gonna..."

"Me too."

"Gonna cum in you, baby."

"Gonna cum on your face."

"You want it baby?"

"Want our cum?"

"Beg us for it, princess."

"Beg for our cum."

You were feeling faint, but somehow you managed to form words.

"P-Please! Cum in me, cum on me! Want it, want it so bad! Give it to me, please, please!"

"Aw fuck—"

"Atta girl—"

"Gonna give it to ya real good—"

"Open wide, sweetcheeks—"

You barely processed what happened next. All you knew was that you felt fuller, and warm liquid spilled on your face and chest. Loud moans and groans filled the barn, almost deafening. Hands smoothed over your skin, wiping your face as they pulled their cocks out of you. You felt kisses on your cheeks as you wiped your eyes, whispers of love and praise filling your ears.

"Such a good girl."

"So proud of you."

"Thank you, princess."

"Made us feel so good."

"Always feel so good with you."

"Love you, baby."

"So fucking much."

Moments passed, and suddenly you were being moved again, onto another bull's lap.

"Now it's my turn to be inside that pretty little cunt."

"Me too!"

"Wanna feel your mouth, baby."

"Just lick me real quick, pretty, that's all I want."

You were in for a long night.

───────────────

[respectthepetty]

The Monster Next Door & Livid Lad

I squeezed in all three episodes of Monster Next Door while traveling with a 7" Chromebook, so now that I have truly no time and no patience (because this thirty image limit is stifling), I'm jumping straight into what I came for - COLORS!

The promo for this show gave me introverted Diew in blue and extroverted God in yellow/orange, which would make perfect sense for the characters and this story!

And the first episode started with God bursting onto the scene with his orange bike and yellow lightning bolt helmet versus Diew walking in his gray.

But I've seen this color-story before from another WeTV offering!

And in this story (Cooking Crush), there was a Blue Boy who didn't like people touching him, had a difficult time communicating, and lived a pretty isolated life.

But . . . that's because he wasn't really blue. He was livid!

Some history and a little bit of science: *deep breath* Livid is the term for the color "blue-gray" and comes from a Latin word meaning "a dull gray blue" however, we associate livid with red because red means anger which we also connect to heat and flames, but the hottest part of a flame is its center which is actually blue not red, so although in color theory we say warm colors are red, yellow, and orange, and cool colors are blue, green, and purple, in the universe, it's the opposite, so our Sun for example isn't that hot because it's only red, yellow, and orange because if our Sun was really hot, it'd be blue (or even white!), and we'd all be fried and dead because that'd be super duper uber hot! Make sense? *another deep breath* The point is that Diew is a Livid Lad.

He is gray-blue.

He is calm and stable like a Blue Boy. He is sad and lonely like a Gray Guy. He is rigid and smart like both.

But just like his fellow Livid Lad Ten in Cooking Crush, who gave the sweetest compliments then punched a guy, Diew is not to be toyed with.

So we see his notes in his color scheme telling God to stop being loud, stop giving him snacks, and stop drawing on the table.

Which brings me to God, who should be this bright and loud yellow/oranege extrovert according to the promo material for the show, but . . . once again, I've seen this color-story before, and as colorful as I thought Prem was compared to his Livid Lad, all roads lead to pink.

In Cooking Crush, it was stated often that Prem put his heart into cooking which is why people could taste the love in his food. Interesting.

The American baseball team Cleveland Indians changed its name and mascot in 2021 because it's the 21st-century and we need to stop doing offensive shit, but even with the name change to Cleveland Guardians, the team has always been a vibrant red.

I noticed immediately that the show is softening the red on God's body so it almost becomes pink when he gets help from Diew in the beginning, and it happens again when he reads the time-traveling romance novel Diew suggests since God is wearing a shirt from the American soda company Dr. Pepper, which its color is maroon(ish), yet in the show, it is soft.

But much like Cooking Crush's Prem, God seems like a Multicolored Menace compared to his Livid Lad.

He wears different colors while Diew wears mostly grays and blues.

His apartment has colorful cool lighting while Diew's apartment has warm natural-looking lighting.

And when he has a bad day at band practice, he loses his color.

But when God asked Diew to date him, he was wearing that soft Dr. Pepper shirt, and when Diew agreed to it a few nights later, Diew was wearing pink on his shirt, which is the first color we have seen on his body, and God was wearing gray. Diew also wore this shirt when he got Khun Shy, his turtle.

And when God just stands in complete silence eating a chocolate bar even though he doesn't like sweets but remembers that Diew likes eating chocolate to make himself happy, he is wearing blue.

But the thing is, Diew isn't just blue and God isn't all colorful, which is why this blueish-(purple) pink doesn't work.

God's core is pink because he puts his heart into what he does. He loves being with his friends (and hates being alone! Don't think I didn't pick that up when he mentioned he originally intended to have a roommate). He loves being on stage and playing music. He loves meeting new people and helping them. He's a lover!

He is bright pink when Diew takes care of him.

But he is also pink when he is giving his friend advice to sit in his feelings and to share them.

And that's why his sticky notes are pink.

These color-coded boys are communicating to each other in their own language and their own color by exchanging the notes. God is a kind and caring (and sometimes immature) Pink Person who gives love in all these tiny ways, and Diew is a calm and quiet (and sometimes a little pissed off) Livid Lad who puts up a fight in all these tiny ways, but when the wall between them (and their balconies) come down, they'll have to create a new middle ground between the Monster Next Door and a Livid Lad because wanting to put so much love into everything versus being so terrified to put love into anything is going to make them re-evaluate how to show love to each other.

They'll have to find ~balance~ not only with each other, but also within themselves.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I feel like if Steve had performed CPR on Eddie while Nancy drove the RV back to the hospital and brought Eddie back, Eddie would be bragging about Steve kissing him and Steve having a crush on him. He'd be an absolute menace about it.

"It wasn't a kiss. It was CPR!" Steve would yell.

"Sure, Stevie, and I'm sure everyone in here believes that," Eddie would wink at him from his hospital bed. "I've seen Nancy, I'm definitely your type."

Robin's laughing about it along with everyone else, thinking it was just a joke for Eddie, and she could tell that Steve wasn't actually hurt by it because if he was, Robin would kick Eddie's ass.

"This is a kiss!" Steve exclaimed and slammed his lips to Eddie's before quickly pulling back. "What I did was breathe air into your lungs. . . What?"

"Oh," Eddie breathed softly as he touched his lips.

Robin's eyes were wide as she looked at Steve like everyone else did. Okay, she knew about her best friend, but she did not think he would do that.

"Steve, you just kissed Eddie," Dustin said.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't really think about it because everyone pretty much knows about me. . . ," Steve said. "And they're cool with it."

"No, harm, Steve. It's just a kiss between friends. I kiss Jeff all the time. He thinks it's funny," Eddie said, laughing. "I don't actually think you're gay for me, Steve."

"Well, no, I'm not gay for you," Steve said.

"Yeah, I know, I just said that," Eddie scoffed. "You need to get your hearing checked, man."

"I'm actually partially deaf in one ear," Steve replied and Eddie sighed, looking guilty.

"HI, I'm Eddie Munson. Sometimes I put my giant ass foot in my mouth," he said, holding out his hand, and Steve took it, smiling in amusement. "Sorry, man."

"It's alright. No harm," Steve said, grinning. "While, I'm not gay for you. I am completely bisexual for you."

"You're what?"

"Bisexual."

"What?"

"BI - SEX - UAL," Steve sounded out. "Jesus, now who's the deaf one?"

"Okay. I don't know what that means. Wait! Hold on! I think I can figure this one out," Eddie said. "Okay, so if bilingual means that you speak more than one language, then bisexual must mean. . .Do you like more than one sex?"

Steve grinned, tapped his nose and pointed at him.

"Wow," Robin said with wide eyes.

"Give him a break, Robin. He's on a lot of pain medication," Dustin said. "He got there, didn't he?"

"So, if bisexual is a thing that means that me checking out Jeff's ass wasn't because I liked his jeans!" Eddie exclaimed.

Steve scowled and crossed his arms, scoffing as he turned away from Eddie.

"Jeff," Steve said angrily. "He didn't kiss you back to life."

"I thought you said it was CPR," Max said.

"Eddie, man, I think you're making Steve jealous," Lucas said.

Eddie grinned at Steve's back, and his eyes landed on his ass.

"You know, whenever Jeff and I used to get high in the back of my van, we'd get really handsy with each other. Now that I think about it, that wasn't very straight of me," Eddie giggled. "Maybe when I get out of here, I should ask him out."

Steve whirled around with his hands on his hips.

"Are you fucking kidding me, right now, Munson?" Steve asked and Eddie laughed.

"Lucas is right. You are jealous," Eddie said. "Me and Jeff never did any of that. Baby, the only man I want to get handsy with in the back of my van is you."

"Really?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said.

Steve leaned down to kiss him, Eddie welcoming it gladly.

"I'm not sure if I say 'aww' or try to burn the image of our babysitter getting felt up by our dungeon master in the back of his van," Mike scowled.

Robin rolled her eyes as she started to push everyone out of the room. It was just in time too because she's pretty sure her best friend just got goosed.

"Eddie!"

[baohanhanesel]

World Praise Day with TF141

GN Reader, no warnings. Could be read as both platonic and romantic. 🤷

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick did see what was coming. The shit-eating grin on your face spoke loudly. He had a feeling you would make one of your casual "to blow off some steam" jokes until he saw your eyes look him up and down. He choked on thin air.

"Are you checking me out, mate?"

"Your body's a sight for sore eyes. The fair amount of muscle and flush skin." You brought your fingers to your lips, kissing them and flicking your wrist away; you sent him an air kiss. It damaged him as if you called an air strike on the guy.

"Load of bullshit, aren't you?" He laughed, eyes crinkling while he smiled

"There it is!" You threw your hands up in the air. "The beauty my art is inspired from!"

"Shut your trap, geez... Don't bring the sketchbook into this, sappy bastard." As much as he tried to play it cool he was flustered. His face got red and laughter started to sound lighter than ever.

"Love your smile" you say." The way your lips curl upward is mesmerizing. The shade of your lips is pretty by itself." The specific praise was doing things. You knew. He knew.

"About to kiss you with these pretty lips if you do not shut up." He chuckled, smirk wide as ever. He was happy and a kiss would only let you know just how happy you were making him. So when you did not stop, you were made just as happy as he was.

John "Soap" Mactavish had just joined you in the common room, you were ready to attack once you caught a glimpse of his messy mohawk.

"Always taking care of yourself like a good man. Even when it is messy it remains just as pretty. Do you even have bad hair days?" Your smile got wider and wider while you took his startled expression in. He blinked, then smiled brightly. "Would die for your smile, Mactavish. Pretty privileges everyday,"

"Yer aff yer heid, lass/lad. "He laughed hard, smirk bright as the damn sun. "Ya know how it feels tae hae the privilege How's it feel, ay?"

You flushed back at the counter attack and the smile. You were just about to make your own move before he reached for your hand "Haes seen war, aye breathtaking. You'd be mah choice in mah lest breath. If a'm jammy enough tae see ye as th' lest damned thing oan earth, ah'd already hae taken a taste o' heavens."

You stopped functioning. His heavy Scottish accent was getting your head fuzzy. The praise attack you started is getting overpowered by his flirt attack. And boy, he is winning.

"Mactavish." you warn him, yielding. He is too good you fear your face is no different than a tomato right now.

"Yah whit's it? My bad!" He brings your hand to his lips. "Ah cannae use mah bonny privileges now? Na? " Fuck him and his confident smirk. You don't know whether to slap him or kiss him.

Captain John Price had just light up a cigarette, letting it stay in-between his lips while he looked through the reports you just brought in.

"Another successful mission. We nailed the mission, captain. Saved our asses, without lead we'd be dead." Praising his work did little, but you had to start somewhere. He gave a tight lipped smile, exhaling the smoke. "Your hat's fitting you nicely, sir. The way it casts a shadow over your temple brings your eyes out. A sight, it is."

He grumble-laughs. You don't know which. You'll go with the latter though. "Your beard, too. Gathers your features together Strict 'n all?"

He dismisses you with a nod and a forced smile. You can see his eyes doing best to not look at you. "Can I get started on your scent?"

"Don't." he snorts, raising his one hand up to rub his temples, tilting his head down. You were about to yield until you notice he was actually trying to suppress a smile.

"I'd do just about anything to see that smile, sir. Makes me proud of myself." You blurt out, because you are willing to take your chances.

"Lovely cheeky thing "he chuckles, blush covering his entire face. "Pretty personality to match your face. You are a strong soldier, I am always proud of you."

Your smile widens.

"Happy world praise day, love." your smile falters, you end up laughing because he knew what you were at but despite it all he still let you humour him.

"Not a single word was a lie."

"As was mine. Back to work, love."

You shake your head, walking out of the office. Today's been very efficient so far.

Simon "Ghost" Riley was cleaning his gun while you were sitting across from him, sewing shut a gash on your uniform. You stole a few glances before collecting enough courage to speak. You were a brave soldier. Bravest of them all. You surely could praise the man before you with that courage.

"Good work" You beam "So fast too."

"Is all experience." He grunts. "You'd be fast too if your hand got on one of these." He had a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

You had a feeling it was because you dislocated your shoulder in the last mission while using a rifle. It was bad luck. Not like you were that inexperienced. He just liked to toy with you.

"You are the best, lieutenant. I don't have to do much with cleaning."

"Because?"

"You clean the battlefield well enough for us all."

"As I should." So praising his work wouldn't work. "Your eyes, always so expressive. You like our banters, sir?"

"Naturally." He scolds, hands fidgeting with the gun.

"I like your presence. You are safe. You are the safe for me." He didn't utter a single word after that. "Always patient with me too. I am grateful for you. Can always rely on you. You are strong in every aspect."

You notice him hanging his head too low, eyes dragging on the ground. He is... flattered? You don't know but it doesn't seem bad. His eyes are actually very expressive as you stated earlier. But it is not enough to tell everything he feels. So you stop for a moment before he starts the conversation again.

"You trust a man with a mask?"

"I trust the man under that mask. Pretty like your knife skills, yeah? I never doubt it, witnessing it myself." This earns him a full-blown laughter.

"Enough." He cuts you then, standing up. He is burning red under that mask. He can't help but feel embarrassed. The silence caught into you, you blink at him. Did you go a bit too far?

"Thank you." he spats the word as if it is dirt in his mouth and he leaves, overwhelmed by you.

[lunar-wandering]

things about the Boboiboy series that drive me NUTS (this list is written solely from memory)

the fact that the first three elements, Wind, Earth, and Lightning, didn't really start out as having different personality's from Boboiboy himself (at least, not by much/it wasn't extremely noticable) but then, Lightning, after being split for too long, losing his memories completely, and achieving tier 2, becoming Thunderstorm, suddenly goes all Edgy(TM). and then Wind eats a mood-changing potion and goes manic, and not only does that unlock his tier 2, making him Cyclone but that becomes his personality. like. hello??? the implications.... and then later on, Fire, Water, Leaf, and Light manifest WITH their personalities pre-set. what??? the vague implication that the elements are sentient and the personalities started becoming more obvious when Boboiboy's mind started slipping/letting them have freer reign haunts me every day.

speaking of Fire's manifestation. he initially manifested from the stress of exams and walked around accidentally burning shit down in the middle of the night. what a mood tbh.

if the elements are sentient, the implications of Retak'ka stealing them from Boboiboy and using them- without having his personality change, is INSANE. like bro. he used them as a weapon instead of letting them be actual people..... and then later on in the comics Thunderstorm gets taken away AGAIN and is trapped in a sword, a literal weapon, and is used. again. HELLO????

both of the first times Thunderstorm gets summoned (both the obvious first time and the first time after they all got reset to tier 1 due to Complications) involving his phobia kills me every time why the FUCK did they do that. they didn't even address it the second time around but they animated Lightning looking like he was in distress anyways. WHY DID THEY DO THAT TO HIM. i know he's the fave but like. was this necessary.

BOBOIBOY JUST DECIDING "Y'KNOW WHAT??? I'M GONNA INVENT FUSIONS NOW HERE WE GO" IN THE SECOND MOVIE AND PROCEEDING TO ABSOLUTELY WIPE THE FLOOR WITH RETAK'KA

i could list so much Thunderstorm stuff tbh he's definitely the fave they give him so many cool bits of animation. he does the "teleports behind you" move SO OFTEN and it's SO GOOD

Leaf's deadpan "Fashion Tragedy" line

that one time Boboiboy split into Fire, Wind, and Leaf, and EVERYONE agreed he shouldn't have done that and should never do it again cause those three have negative braincells when in a group together

the songs??? like. the opening songs. the insert songs used in the movies. the OST. why the hell are they so good. i mean i know i personally like em cause they tend to use rock. but like. its SO GOOD.

Yaya and Ying being arguably the two most powerful/capable members of the friend group as they should

that one time Thunderstorm and Fang fought and they paused right before hitting each other and the objects behind both of them exploded from the force of the other's attack

in the first movie when it hinted that we'd see Boboiboy without his hat for the first time ever throughout the entire movie and then it FINALLY HAPPENED when he caught a giant hammer right before it could hit him and punched the dude away with a blast of energy. he has a white streak in his hair and it's visible in the series from this point onwards.

I KNOW IVE SAID A LOT OF THUNDERSTORM SCENES BUT THAT POINT IN GALAXY WHERE HE WAS USING TIER 2 BEFORE HE SHOULD'VE BEEN USING IT AND HE KEPT SWAPPING IN BETWEEN BOBOIBOY AND THUNDERSTORM THROUGHOUT THE FIGHT??? THAT WAS COOL AS FUCK I LOVED THAT

i could list so many of the really cool shots from this series tbh. that one time Light slow-mo backflipped over a bunch of debris and then activated laser eyes to shoot at the villain is a highlight.

literally everything about the fact the plot of this show went from "aliens come to earth to steal chocolate" to "boboiboy nearly fucking dies on an almost daily basis"

[bu-blegh-ost]

What Chip's current condition may possibly mean for both him and the crew (a theory of sorts)

Spoilers for ep. 109 and 110. Heed the warning.

Okay, so ever since ep. 109 came out I've been frantically reading about undead and what does it mean for your pc to be undead. I stayed silent about it, cause I wasn't sure if Nik could fix this, but now that ep. 110 is out I'd like to share some of the things I found, for folks like me, who do not know much abt DnD yet.

So, in a long list of features the undead have, most prominent problem is how hard it is to heal them. None of Jay's or Gillion's spells can heal Chip now, we'd need a spell that normally damages people, like necromancy spells, since they have a reverse efffect on the undead, and none of them has access to that currently. Not only that, once Chip's health reaches zero at this state, that's it. No death saves, no going unconscious or going down. That's it, which is why the moment he turned undead, Jay started spamming the temporary HP canon. So Chip doesn't lose any of his core health pool. If he did die in this state, from then on, only a spell called Wish (if I'm not mistaken a lvl 9 Sorcerer wish, so Gillion could do that if he cranked up three more levels in sorcery real quick) or True Ressurection could save him. But these two spells would also bring Chip back to life as a regular person, not the undead, so it would be cool to seek out someone who could do that for them at the most convenient time.

To balance it out, Chip is resistant to a shit ton of attack types, including poison, physical, necrotic and many other. To top it off with Chip's evasion skills, I'm giving him good chances to either minimalize or negate most damage in this form. And well, considering everything, he'd be wise to take every opportunity to do so, joke damage taking is no longer an option, I think. Also Gillion needs to be very careful with radiant damage around Chip, cause it's very effective on the undead. Chip getting hit by Gillion's strike may damage him greatly, and the two need to be very careful around each other from now on :(((

And the most interesting thing I found is the Undead Hunger variant. Some undead can just live on for centuries and be fine without a need to feed on something. But some, even the intelligent ones like Chip, may need a bit more than that, and given that very ominous intelligence check Grizzly made him roll at the end of the day, I'm thinking he's implementing the hunger rule on Chip. Lemme tell you a bit about it.

So Undead Hunger is a Variant Rule that DMs use on player characters that are undead sometimes. And that means that once in a while Chip would have to feed on some sort of specific type of morsel to satisfy his craving, or suffer the cosequences. There are two variants of undead that can make roll for this: Inescapable Craving or Diet Dependent. The player in that case rolls for willpower, which DMs usually make a wisdom or intelligence check. In our case Grizzly chose intelligence, and Chip passed with a 19. The DC for Inescapably Craving Undead is 25, but the DC for Diet Dependent Undead is 15. So from that I deduced that Chip would be a Diet Dependent Undead, since he passed the roll.

Hunger for the Undead is like addiction to the living. This means that unless Chip can resist it with a succesful roll, he may become more agressive, anxious, violent or even self-destructive the longer he is denied a preferred meal. If he can't eat, he'll have to roll for keeping himself at bay every three days. He doesn't have to roll if he eats.

So you may ask now: what happens if he fails one to many times? This is the interesting part. So if Chip fails his once per three days intelligence check, the DM will make him take ability damage. That means that one of his stats (wisdom, strength, dexterity etc.) will reduce by a whatever number Grizzly sees fit (Chip can get all the lost points back the moment he eats). In the guide I've read it says that wisdom is the most crucial ability score to lose, tho I'm unsure if the DM takes away only from wisdom or if he can take any of the stats, I may need to read more on that. But the thing is, the more rolls Chip fails, the more wisdom he may loose, and please note, Chip does not have much wisdom to begin with (but he does have high intelligence so thank the gods for that at least).

The less wisdom Chip has, the more desperate he gets when it comes to eating. He may start seeking out more risky ways to get fed or do things he normally wouldn't to get it. Hunger can't kill him though, it may just make him lose himself (hence that comment of Grizzly's about him needing to hold onto his sense of self, at least that's what I think that is). Once Chip reaches wisdom score 0, Bizzly actually loses control over him, and Grizzly takes over Chip and he plays Chip as he was a wild enemy beast. In that state Chip can throw himself on anyone or anything that can provide him food, his mind completely lost. He can hurt others, attack his crew. He can do anything the DM determines a starved mindless beast would do.

He can come back to his senses once more, when he does feed on whatever is decided his preferred meal is, all his wisdom regained and all, but the consequences of his actions, when he was not himself, the dreadful realisation that he is now a monster, who needs to be kept in check so he doesn't hurt the people he loves...This may be a lot for Chip to take. If this were to happen, he'll need a lot of his crewmates' support and reassurance, and a lot of honesty will be demanded from Chip. He'd have to warn people around him and make sure everyone knows how he's feeling, if he needs help in finding food. Casue hiding this hunger may result in tragedy.

And of course, it doesn't help that they are where they are now. In any case, if Grizz decides that Chip's favourite meal is humanoid flesh (beyond cruel is what that would be), they are fucked, basically. If it is the flesh of any other creature or animal, well they are also fucked, because they are in a motherfucking Black Sea, so good luck finding anything consumable like this either way.

But hey, of course do remeber that in the end these are just my conclusions based on what I read. Grizzly might not be even using any of these rules, cause he's the DM and he can do whatever he wants. I just thought that based on what we saw, this is very likely to happen (consider it a theory of mine for the time being). If you would like to read more about it, I'll leave you the link to this one really good website that I found most of the information on. I can't confirm its relaibility, but it looks very informative, comprehensive and thought out, and thus far was the most thorough source I found, so I'm personally willing to trust it. But please do find out for yourself. That'll be it, see you and I hope you had fun reading!

Link to the website: https://www.realmshelps.net/monsters/aboutundead.shtml#undeadhunger

UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tags written out by the wonderful @dinzeeyz !!! They explained here what is ACTUALLY happening to Chip, not a theory, facts from the boys themselves! Please make sure to read them!!!

Well, there it is folks! Of course, I do not mind that I was wrong! The fun part in theorizing is not being right or wrong, but the journey one takes to find out the truth! And the truth is SO much more horrifying than I could ever think! You see, I was kinda thinking abt ways for Chip to still function while undead, but there is NO FUNCTIONING WHATSOEVER APPARENTLY. Grizzly's not playing, and the prospect of losing Chip forever is real oh dear OMG, that's absolutely insane!!! Please feel welcome to discuss this, I'll be definitely making more posts about this once I have a little more time but holy shit guys. We need to fix that boy up F A S T. If we lose Chip, I'm not recovering-

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

Feeling really nostalgic about July 17-18, 2008, the last time I believed in Joss Whedon

It was just cool, you know? Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog dropped in three separate pieces over the course of the week. We'd get 15 minutes of story, and then two days to froth over the whys and wherefores in Livejournal comments before the next piece came out. And those days were so good.

Buffy fans are so fucking smart, y'all. They could combine academic rigor with unselfconscious fangirl squee. Squee was a hermeneutical method, a mode of interrogating the text--one we often dismiss and diminish, because if there's anything grosser than teenage girls getting goopy over a vampire they like, it's 30 or 50 or 70-year-old women getting goopy over a vampire they like. But it's similar to what I've seen called a "redemptive reading". You approach a piece of media specifically looking for its best parts, the pieces you love the best, and you allow yourself to fully embody the joy of liking something and caroling your joy to other people who like it too. In a perpetually burned-out time, squee can be like a desert oasis.

So the people who liked Buffy and Angel and Firefly watched Doctor Horrible in a manner both squeeful and intersectionally feminist, and saw all the amazing interesting things it was doing, showing how insecure geek masculinity fundamentally self-sabotages the main character, Billy, because the relationship he wants has been there in reach for months, and it's his own perception that he needs to be an alpha male warrior that has kept him from it. It interrogated the entire genre of costumed heroes, with two men thumping their chests and comparing their dick sizes, and none of them doing anything as direct and helpful for their society as Penny, the woman who stands on sidewalks collecting signatures to help a homeless shelter.

Part II came out on July 17, and the series would end with Part III on July 19. So on July 18, I spent most of the day reading Livejournal comments about it. There were all these theories: Maybe Penny was secretly Bad Horse, the archvillain whose approval Billy has craved since the beginning. Maybe she will collapse the love triangle with Billy's rival, Captain Hammer, by acting on her clearly-demonstrated discomfort and dumping him. Maybe Billy will learn that relationships are based on intimacy, not being The Best. Maybe Penny will become a superhero and replace Captain Hammer as Billy's nemesis. Maybe Billy will succeed and rule the world and give Penny Australia.

And then... none of those things happened. Joss Whedon ended the series in a way less progressive, less imaginative, less cool, than even the most half-baked fan theory out there. The story opened up possibilities to break out of an old, tired, toxic set of stories around men and women and sex and heroics, and then hid under a rock rather than change a single one of them.

July 19 was the day I concluded that while Joss Whedon might have his own baggage to work through about toxic masculinity, and artists have the right to make work meaningful to them, he wasn't making art that was meaningful to me. And I basically stopped expecting anything of him.

And then, for years, Buffy fans, educated and squeeful feminists and sharp pop culture critics, got told they were crazy histrionic SJWs for thinking Whedon didn't shit solid gold. For years. (I recently saw a video essay that included the line, "If you have the phrase 'mewling quim' branded onto your memory, you probably need some Metamucil" and, ouch, rude.)

There was so much excitement! A lot of us actually believed in the guy (although even then, there was enough evidence for many people to suspect what we now know to be 100% true about him.)

We wanted it to be good. We wanted to enjoy it.

I miss that feeling.

[lyss-sketchbox]

My thoughts on Inazuma vs Natlan so far. Is that Inazuma dropped the ball. There's no questioning that. It was rushed and the resolution lacked weight, and it almost definitely needed a lot more space to breathe and probably would've benefited from the 5 act structure instead of speedrunning with 3 acts (such as needing actual time spent with the Watatsumi Resistance rather than spending like 30 minutes tops).

HOWEVER. I feel like the initial Act I-II of Inazuma did a great job established the STAKES. It showed us the very real damage being caused by the various unjust decrees and why people are fighting. Natlan I kinda felt like did a lot of telling instead of showing, and any potential stakes feel kinda... Unserious? Because no one's really seriously hurt and even if they're saying Natlan will explode soon, I'm not really feeling like it's as dire as they're trying to sell it.

BUT IVE BEEN INFORMED YOU CAN DO NATLAN OUT OF ORDER??? Like you could in theory do Natlan BEFORE Inazuma thru Fontaine (with the quick-start function) which is why Natlan is more 'self-contained' which is absolutely insane to me?? Like HELLO???

Overall, I feel like the concepts and plot presented in Natlan is fine. But they didn't do a good enough job of selling to me these things. Like the whole child soldiers stuff kjadf like we actually dwelled on it for longer than a millisecond, we'd probably realize that's super fucked up!! But instead we gloss over it, making the whole quest seem fairly light-hearted despite everything.

Rubs my hands together ok anon lets talk cuz yeah i have thoughts

About inazuma

I definitely agree with you that Act 1-2 (especially 1) of inazuma did well setting up and showing how much negative impact the shogun's rule has impacted the people:

Vision holders literally losing a chunk of themselves (or worst, their lives) from their vision being confiscated.

Non-vision holders risking their lives for helping said vision holders (the resistance)

International traders being stuck in the nation, repressed by local government, and scammed by local traders just to keep business alive.

Local government bloating the price of everything!!! (And being able to get discounts only if you have connections)

Corruption even in the highest positions (gestures at the Kujou clan)

Fatui meddling that lead to the deaths of many for profit

The shogun literally programmed her robot to be that heartless because she herself dont give a shit about any of these issues. As long as her eternity stays.

Fr after venti and zhongli, getting an archon that acts as a proper ruler of a nation AND an antagonist sounds COOL AS FUCK. The booba sword scene while yeah, boobs wooo, also was a wonderful show of her authority over her nation.

After that they tripped and fell in Watatsumi. While i appreciate the environmental story telling of Watatsumi's and Shogunate's bases during the war, we barely get enough time to do... ANYTHING of substance. If i remember correctly, we became team captain, then do a bunch of training and defeating vagrants (on our own because friendly npc fighters didnt exist yet) and thats it. Where is the plotting? Wheres the planning? It was all just an anime training montage we barely get to see or feel. I genuinely feel like we couldve just replaced the entire Watatsumi arc with 'the fatui is selling delusions to people with confiscated visions to help them cope with the lost so traveller go to the delusion factory' and NOTHING wouldve changed. Hell it wouldve made ALOT more sense why yae came to save us at the end if the whole thing happened in Narukami.

Also after all that SHOWING they did alot more TELLING about wooo how smart kokomi is she is so smart and cool and the savior of the resistance. Like girl the fatui had their grip on your soldiers to the point they almost didnt want to surrender their delusions what are you on about. While you can argue she was only a priestess before the war and had no war intellegence skills, the people prop her up as such, kujou sara took her seriously. So she has to have some merit. Well im not seeing any (fight me on this i dont fully remember what happens in watatsumi)

Also at the end we fight the literal dictator of the nation with the power of friendship then everyone and i mean EVERYONE forgave said dictator...... cool. They would definitely benefit from an extra act so that watatsumi adds to the idea that this civil war and the shoguns current decree is causing damage.

About AR

The thing is that the requirements for you to start Natlan AQ is to be AR 28 and finish Liyue AQ (which requires AR 29 for the entire thing). While starting Inazuma requires AR 30, Sumeru needs AR 35, and Fontaine needs AR 40 (highest AR requirement by far).

Id argue that each nation is supposed to be a self-contained story. Even so, based on AR requirements theyve been chronologically in order because you NEED to complete the previous AQ to start the next. EXCEPT for Natlan.

While this is obviously to be more open to new and returning players, it really.... decreases the stakes, like you would assume the more we progress the tougher challenges we will have to face. But Natlan? Nawww you can go to Natlan without fighting the dictator 👍

About Natlan

I AM ADDRESSING THE CHILD SOLDIER THING FIRST BECAUSE YES. THEY DEFINITELY DID ALOT MORE TELLING THAN SHOWING HOW THIS CHILD APPARENTLY CAN BE SENT TO WAR WITH A REAL CHANCE OF DYING!!!!! I talked about this before because they ironically did alot more showing how child like Kachina is which adds more to the FUCKING CHILD SOLDIER THING.

HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WITH THIS??? Oh its our nations culture, its just the culture shock, OKAY YEAH BUT THE TRAVELLER AND PAIMON ARENT NATLAN NATIVES AND THEY DONT FEEL ANYTHING ABOUT THIS????? Wow yey cheer for the child to go to war! BRO SHE DIED AND WE WENT JACOOZIING WHILE WE WAIT FOR HER TO RETURN FROM WAR...............

ITS VERY OBVIOUS INFANTILIZATION BECAUSE IANSAN DIDNT FUCKING GET THE SAME TREATMENT. You know, the other small girl character there, nah she went to war just like Kachina, lived, and stood by the Archon and WAS READY TO THROW HANDS WITH A HARBINGER IF THE ARCHON DIDNT FUCKING FIGHT HIM HERSELF.

Everything just feels so.... chill? So relaxed with no stakes at all. I mean yeah the Abyss is creeping into the nation's roots but instead of sending armies we make it a tournament. Yeah people die in these excursions but we can revive them so we can ignore the horrors of experiencing death. Yeah the flames are dying so the archon has to give up some of her power to keep it lit but its okay! The harbinger is a gentleman that wont take this opportunity to do some scheming. We need the power of the chosen one of each tribes to save natlan but hey cant rush it! We got a year after all teehee.

Man. Head in hands. What the fuck.

Not even gonna go into the whole the archon is human but mavuika is the one that got reincarnated to retake the role just in time to solve a national crisis thing. Because i dont even know if THAT is accurate.

If they somehow trip and fall worse than inazuma id actually be amazed because the bar is very very low.

[givemea-dam-break]

please, could you write something were the reader is part of kipps crew and lockwood is like obsessed with her. anytime they encounter he goes out of his way to be nice to her and kipps finds it so weird because she is like is best friend or sister even. that would be so cool! also love the new things you’ve posted earlier!!!

a/n: of course! I love this idea, and thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed them :) this is a mix between the books and the show (not overly obvious though)

warnings: language female reader (few pronouns used)

part two

"Seems like we've saved you again, Tony," Kipps says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe if you did your research properly, we wouldn't need to come and clean up your mess."

George Karim scowls. "Not all of us can press a button and have everything we need right under our fingers."

"Besides, you didn't save us," Anthony Lockwood, the face of Lockwood and Co, says. "We had it all under control."

You break off from Kat's side, inspecting the damage around the park, and make your way over to Kipps. "If by under control, you mean you were surrounded by fourteen Wraiths with very few salt bombs or magnesium flares left to defend yourself with, then yeah, you had it under control."

"(name) -" Lockwood blinks, then plasters on that smile of his. "How nice to see you."

Against your better judgement, you smile. "You seem to be making a habit of us saving your asses. I hope it's not some excuse to see Kipps' pretty face."

Kipps, your team's supervisor, frowns at the pair in front of you. Off to the side, Bobby Vernon is instructing a few other Fittes agents, disposing of the source of the horde of Wraiths. Kat, as blank-faced as always, stands on the other side of Kipps, and Ned Shaw... Well, he's somewhere. Probably glowering at some poor child.

"No, I can assure you, Kipps' face is the last thing I want to see on a case," Lockwood says, sending a charming grin your way. "It's perhaps even scarier than the Wraiths."

You laugh softly, earning a glare from your supervisor. It's hard suppressing your smile.

"I expect we'll see you more this week, Tony," he says. "It seems that without your little Listener, you're getting even worse than before."

George bristles, fists clenching by his sides. "We were doing perfectly fine on our own. Now, if you don't mind, we'd better be on our way."

Lockwood straightens. "You're right, George. But, first, we need our pay."

"Oh, no," Kipps says. "No, see, we secured the Source, so, by DEPRAC rules, the commission is ours."

"You can't be serious," Lockwood says. "This was our case."

Kat, face void of any emotion, says, "Well, it's ours now."

George moves a step closer, knuckles white with tension, but Lockwood pulls him back, murmuring something in his ear. Angrily, Karim storms past you and out of the park.

"Best be off, Tony. Don't want to stay out too much later. I'm not sure we can be bothered saving you from more ghosts."

Lockwood ignores him, casting his gaze on you. "See you around, (name)."

You smile again. "See you, Lockwood."

And, then he's gone, striding off to catch up with George. You watch him go, curiously, until he's past the hedge line of the park and faded into the darkness of the night.

"Stop it."

You turn to Kipps, frowning. "What?"

"Stop looking at him like he's God's gift to the world," he grumbles. "He's an idiot, and he's the competition unless you've forgotten. Stay away from Lockwood - it won't end well."

Nodding, you cast his words aside immediately. It only makes you want to know him more.

"I'm serious, (name). You're like a sister to me, and I can't afford for you to get sidetracked and then hurt because of him."

Too late, you think. You have most definitely gotten sidetracked.

--

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Scrounging around in your bag, your heart is pounding and your face feels hot with embarrassment. You can't find your purse, and there's a big long queue of people behind you, waiting for their turn to order with expressions of irritation. God, you want to melt into the floor and die. Someone groans behind you, their frustration seeping into your bones.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. Just give me a minute -"

"Here you go," a voice says, and an arm reaches out beside you, passing a twenty-pound note to the cashier.

You take your coffee from her hand and shuffle out of the way quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much. If I can find my purse, I'll pay you back."

"No, no, you're fine." That voice... Something about it is familiar.

Looking up, your jaw goes slack. "Lockwood! Oh, hi. How are you?"

His mouth splits in a grin. "Hey. I'm good. I'd ask how you are, but judging from how red you are, I think I can guess."

"I'm so sorry you had to pay, just let me -" You begin searching in your bag again, but Lockwood's hand closes over yours, halting the movement. Sparks run up and down your arm at the touch.

"(name), it's perfectly fine. My treat."

Your worried expression softens. "I can't thank you enough, Lockwood."

"Don't worry about it." He hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering over your face. "Do you want to come back to Portland Row with me? Chat over some doughnuts, maybe?"

Despite Kipps' warning, you want to accept, but you can't, as much as it pains you.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I've got to get back - we've got a case to get to in a few hours. I was just getting some sort of caffeine to energise me beforehand."

He looks a little disappointed, but he's still smiling. "That's alright. Maybe another time?"

You grin. "Sure. And, thank you, again, Lockwood. Really. You saved me from melting into a puddle of embarrassment back there."

"It hurt to watch," he jests. "Should I prepare my gear at home, just in case Lockwood and Co have to come save you Fittes lot for once?"

Laughing, you say, "No, but thanks. No offence, but I think we're a little more qualified for this job than you are, Lockwood."

There's a pause, one in which he only looks at you, smiling. Then, "Call me Anthony."

--

Before you lose confidence, you knock on the pale blue door before you.

Portland Row is quiet, despite it being mid-afternoon and summertime, but you don't really mind. With the sun beating down on your back, and a warm breeze that smells faintly like cut grass, you couldn't be more relaxed even if you tried.

The door swings open, revealing the face of George Karim, who doesn't seem overly pleased to see you.

"What do you want?"

You're taken back a little by his forwardness. "Oh, I just thought I'd come nip round and pay you guys a visit. I brought a bunch of doughnuts and biscuits and stuff from Arif's." You hold the box in your hands a little higher.

"George," a voice calls - Lucy Carlyle's, judging from the pitch. "Who is it?"

"(name), you know, Fittes agent? Kipps' crew?"

"I've brought treats from Arif's," you say over George's shoulder. "I come in peace."

"Oh, for god's sake, George, let her in!"

This time, it's Lockwood - Anthony - who speaks. He opens the door wider so that he and George are standing shoulder to shoulder in the frame. His wide smile is dazzling, and, as usual, his clothes are crisp and clean, as if he put them on right away after being ironed and hasn't moved in them lest they crease.

"Hey, (name). Thanks for bringing food."

He nudges George out of the way and gestures for you to come inside, which you do albeit cautiously.

The house isn't what you expected at all. With three teenagers living there, you assumed it'd be rather modern, but the wallpaper is old, and all sorts of decor and memorabilia hang on the walls. Masks, photos, and the likes. Straight ahead, Lucy Carlyle stands on the stairs, dressed in a comfy top and shorts, and despite the tension between your agency and theirs, she smiles at you before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. George follows her, frowning.

Deftly, Lockwood takes the large box of sweet treats from your hands.

"What's the occasion?" he asks, leading you down the hall to the kitchen.

"It's just a thank you for paying for my coffee the other day," you say. "Also, I wanted to see you, and I figured George wouldn't let me within ten feet unless I brought goods."

Lockwood laughs. "Well, you're right about that."

The kitchen isn't the largest you've seen, but it's cosy. Lucy is clearing space on the table which, oddly enough, is covered in a white tablecloth full of scribbles and writing. George is boiling the kettle over to the side, four mugs set out in front of him, though one is considerably smaller than the rest.

You can't blame him for not liking you. Although Kipps is like your brother, you know that he goes too far sometimes, and he's never been particularly nice to Lockwood and his friends. You're a part of his team, so their dislike for Kipps - or George's, at least - has extended to you.

"Please, sit," Lockwood says, gesturing to one of the seats.

Smiling a little awkwardly, you sit down as he separates the contents of the box onto different plates. Lucy takes the seat next to you, plucking one of the doughnuts straight out of the box and smiling.

Lucy has never had the warmest personality, or so you've heard, but the doughnuts have seemingly put you in her good books. That eases your discomfort a little.

George sets cups of tea down on the table before sitting down himself, just as Lockwood does, too. They all take their pick of the treats, grinning and chatting away.

"So, (name)," Lockwood says. "How did your case go the other day?"

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "You're keeping tabs on Fittes now?"

"We ran into each other a couple of days ago," you explain. "We stayed and caught up for a little bit."

George frowns. "Is that why you took so long getting back from your shopping trip?"

Lockwood sips his tea. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyways, how was it?"

"Fine," you say. "Some lady was murdered by her son a few decades ago, wanted revenge on the family - you know, the usual."

"Please tell me Kipps got a little injured," George says.

"George!" Lucy hisses, but something in her eyes tells you she doesn't feel much different than he does.

"Unfortunately for you, no, he didn't. Since he's just our supervisor, he stays within an iron circle and shouts orders at us."

"Surely that must get annoying?" Lockwood says. He's watching you carefully, and you can feel your ears growing hot under his gaze. "Having to take orders from someone who can't even see what's going on."

You shrug. "Yeah, it does, but there's not much we can do about it."

"Maybe, you could work with us."

Everyone seems to freeze when Lockwood says that. You slowly look up at him from the pastry you were just reaching for, your face the definition of pure shock. Lucy, bless her, just sits with another doughnut halfway to her mouth, eyes a little wide. But George, oh, George. It takes all your strength not to laugh at the expression of unadulterated surprise, mixed with a little bit of anger, as a biscuit hangs from his mouth.

"What?" you all say simultaneously.

Lockwood only grins wider. "I think it'd be a good decision. If we have one extra agent, it means if we get overbooked, we don't end up with one agent per case and can double up. And I don't think it'd hurt for Lucy to have some female company in the house."

"You can't be serious," George says.

"I am. So, (name)?"

The words are hard to find. "Uh, I mean, shouldn't you guys all talk about this together? I don't want to just be barging in, you know? Besides, I'd need to talk to Kipps, and that'll go down about as well as a magnesium flare in a forest."

"For once," George says, "I agree with (name)."

"Oh, come on." Lockwood waves his hand nonchalantly. "She's an incredible agent, and she'd fit right in. I don't think there's much to discuss."

In all honesty, you feel flattered that Lockwood is offering you a position within his company, only because you admire him so much. Fittes, and just about all of the big agencies, are too bureaucratic, in your opinion, and extremely controlling over cases. Lockwood and Co have free rein, within the rules set out by DEPRAC, and aren't hindered by supervisors or massive amounts of paperwork, all because he had the confidence to split off and set up his own company.

"Let's not rush into any decisions," you say, standing slowly. You don't want to move too quickly and elicit the rage of Karim. "I think I should probably head off. Enjoy the food, and, uh, have a good day."

Smiling awkwardly, you make your way out of the kitchen and hurry to the front door.

Footsteps sound behind you and, as you open the door, Lockwood says, "Wait."

You turn, sighing. "Before you say anything, Lockwood -"

"Anthony."

"Anthony, thank you for the offer, but I really think you should talk to Lucy and George first. I can't just accept without them wanting me to, and that's if I can accept."

Lockwood leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with those dark eyes of his. God, they've got you hooked.

"I will. I just - You're wasted at Fittes, stuck following the orders of someone whose Talent faded years ago."

You give him a look, but it's half-hearted. "Kipps basically raised me, alright? But I get it. Again, I appreciate it, but speak to the two of them first and then I'll consider it."

That seems to be a good enough answer. His smile is blinding. His hand briefly brushes yours, and your breath hitches.

"Give me a call in a few days," you say, "and we'll see where we're at, yeah?"

"Will do."

"I'll see you soon, Anthony."

If possible, his smile only grows brighter. "Likewise, (name)."

As you leave, you can still feel the brushing of his hand on yours, a sensation you hope will never fade.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being a ....homewrecker? (🏝 for later)

I'm not sure that's the right word, but whatever. Basically, I (FtM) met this guy (cis M, we'll call him M) over a year ago and we hit it off pretty quick. It was under extremely unusual circumstances, but for the sake of anonymity, I'll be vague and just say: it was 3 AM, Denny's, T.E Lawrence was involved. Now, I'm pretty wary of most guys who go to my school, given I'm trans and unfit to defend myself for various would-break-anonymity reasons, but M is just the best and is incredibly sweet. Days are easier when he's around, even if it's just through a Discord call playing video games. I started harboring feelings for him pretty much immediately, but didn't plan on acting on them for two reasons:

1) I've yet to be in an actual committed relationship (nobody's wanted to stick around, or we both realized quickly we weren't dating material) and I'm terrified of fucking anything up. 2) ....M has a girlfriend. A super long-term one, at that. Like, they met when they were kids, he's been romancing her for ages, they're going to get married and both openly agree they'd be shells of people without each other. Soulmate shit. She's awesome. She's the sweetest, too. Very thoughtful, and soft-spoken, and so so smart. So, no, I didn't plan on doing anything about my feelings. I'm not the type to hide who I am, so I wasn't going to hide anything, but I certainly wasn't going to DO anything either. That's not my place.

Until, one school break, M comes to me and admits he has feelings. And he's wrecked about it. Tells me I'm the only other person he's really had this for, because it's always been his girlfriend. He's a mess. I thought we communicated pretty well, and we'd both made it clear that nothing was going to happen unless Girlfriend knew about it and approved, because she comes first above all else. (I was the one to say this before him, and he was relieved that I understood.) She is priority. She will always be priority, and I totally get that. I'm just some guy, you know? But the conversation ended with me telling him he should probably let her know about this, regardless of how scary that was, because he's an incredibly touchy-feely guy and if I was her I'd like if this was on my radar. New player: M's best friend. very by the book christian guy. Not at all stuck up, but he abstains from worldly pleasures or something like that! He's cool, we're cool.

Except after break, M's best friend makes a few confusing comments, and suddenly, there's now never been a time when just me and M have hung out since. Girlfriend hasn't acted any differently and is still incredibly warm and wonderful, so I'm pretty sure she still doesn't know. I'm a very giving person and like to shower my friends in gifts, so I was undeterred in giving them both valentine's gifts I had bought them months in advance (extra hand wringing on my part.) Girlfriend was ecstatic, loved her gift, and M loved his too. But then he left to go Cry??? Because he hadn't gotten her anything (I'm the only one with a min $ job). I'm not sure where I stand with him or with either of them, and i'm just so confused. I'm 🤷‍♂️ about poly, but with the way they were raised (see M's best friend for reference), their feelings are more muddy about it. I want to talk to M, but being alone in the same room is impossible. I don't know if M has been intentionally making sure we're never alone together, I don't know if Girlfriend knows, or what M wants, what Girlfriend would want or even what I want, because I don't know what's on the table. I don't even know if we're in the same restaurant. Girlfriend is going to find out. M is way too touchy feely even with "supervision". (Granted, he is with everyone, I'm pretty sure I'm just the only person who lets him get away with it.) At this rate, somethings going to give, and i'm honestly just waiting for it to happen now. 🤷‍♂️

[murd3rouscrow]

Holy shit... The retired colourman might be my new favorite mystery, as always, spoilers below

I just want to start by how much more gruesome this one was, especially compared to the last episode with the ai. I really really like the more gruesome stories. It amps up all the emotions.

Also very fun story, like you know the murderer is, that's not the mystery. It's not the who, but the what... Oooo very ominous, very cool.

Also Lillian. She was there, ngl she kinda grew on me. Let's be real, we'd probably be just like her. Also didn't think she'd go through with the true crime podcast after getting sprayed blood. I'm going to assume john have her some important podcaster wisdom while they were outside.

Also, more Mariana, which I'm always happy about. Especially Mariana basically solving the mystery. Love it. Love her. Especially loved the emotion and her little moment with Sherlock in the cellar and attic

Further making me want a Sherlock and Mariana only episode, I swear they'd be so efficient. Also just Sherlock reassuring her that she doesn't have to the bodies, he'll do it. Like yes, I've been waiting for some Sherlock x Mariana, so far they're dynamic had only been making fun of John together (which is also great)

This entire mystery was just fueling my inner baker street poly heart.

Overall, great episode, loved the emotion, I like very much.

[minhosimthings]

Call him up. He comes to my bedroom. Ended up we'd fuck on the hotel floor.

Summary: you, Jay, fucking after an award show

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, MINORS DNI, Oral (recieving), some comfort from husband material Jay

A/N: ALRIGHT! First smut work! I definitely need to improve a lot but here you go my babygirls. Also first Jay drabble! YAY! im taking a break from my work and writing whenever I'm at work and just staring at fishies.

Song rec: A&W by Lana del Rey. Yes the title is a lyric from that song. My favourite lyric!

"You wanted to see me baby?" Jay Park. Can anyone in this world get more luckier that you to get Jay fucking Park.

Award shows were boring, but when you had Jay beside you, it made it worth it, for you to stare at that slightly open white shirt with that watch that you gifted him, wrapped around his pretty little wrist. Yet again, L/N Y/N had won another award for best producer of the year. Some more of these and your house will end up becoming a store for selling 'Best producer' awards. Jay's group Enhypen had won 'Best boy band of the year' award this time and you were so proud of him. If not for the slight hiccup.

Being a producer, your ears were probably the most sensitive shit on earth, which enabled you to hear far more further than most people can (I actually have this ability and it's really cool!). Which in turn allows you to eavesdrop easily. But sometimes the eavesdropping isn't always the most comforting thing on this world, and as you heard your fellow producers smoke in the bathroom stalls and say 'She just got that award because she's Jay's girlfriend.' and 'He's so delicious though. Why did he pick that ugly bitch of a whore?'. You weren't really the type of person to cry or feel insecure, I mean after all you were in the kpop industry. Someone was always prettier or more talented than you. But hey, you were raised by some pretty good people, who taught you not to let jealousy take over you. But sometimes even saints abandon their principles in time of desperation. And for you? Your co workers shit talking about you was the time of desperation. You knew being in a relationship in this industry and letting it be public was a risk. But for Jay? Oh honey you'd risk the entire universe to be with him.

"Honey what's wrong? Hey are you crying?" Jay had walked into your hotel room, after you sent a staff member to get him. The afterparty was in the same hotel and you knew Jay would be with the rest of the boys, enjoying, drinking and critiquing every person's outfit. But you just couldn't go and stand there and give fake smiles to your coworkers, and pretend that everything was okay. You needed your boyfriend right now. And Jay would do anything for you, even abandon a party to come up to your magnificent suite. "Baby what's wrong?" Jay sat down on the bed next to you and cupped your cheeks. "You weren't at the party. I brought some food for you." Hearing that only made you sob harder onto your custom made red Prada dress, a gift from the worried man sitting in front of you, wondering silently what he could do to make you feel better as he stroked your hair and put your head against his chest.

"Shh baby shh. What happened?" "I- I heard them s-saying- Jay they think I- don't have- Jay." You sniffled in Jay's chest as he quickly understood what had happened. He had seen your coworkers giggling and approaching him again and again at the party and connecting the dots, it made perfect sense. Tracing the jewels on your dress with one hand and slightly taking off his tie with his other, Jay moved you to the pillow slowly, whilst admiring your figure in that dress. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk to you or see you up close since both of you were seated at different places, far from each other, neither did he have the chance to see you before the show, so when his eyes fell upon the tightly fit fabric on your hips, oh god his entire world came crashing down.

"Jay wha- what are you doi-" "Baby where do you keep the condoms?" You shuddered back as Jay slowly cane above you. "I- I'm on the pill." Jay slowly unzipped your dress, sneaking his hand behind you as you moved your hand to his collar. "Good" he growled against your ear. "You'll see what you're capable of tonight."

"Jay~" you whine as he grinds against your figure, the fabric of your dress slowly getting destroyed and ripped off of your body. You were quick to unbutton his white silk shirt, your gift, and unbutton his pants, throwing away the belt onto the bedside table. Jay moaned lowly as he inhaled the scent of your jasmine perfume, his favourite one. "Shit baby were you always this wet for him?" He teased you as you could do nothing but only whine in response. "Jay ah fuck!" He had slipped his fingers into your cunt, rings still on. The metal of the rings rubbed your pussy so hard, pleasure seeping in and out of you. "Is this ok baby? Or does my love need my cock inside?" "Jay ngh ahh fuck!" He slips himself in at an absolutely brutal pace, that your brain goes dumb and your pussy goes wild. This was heaven like you've never seen it. Jay was angry, so angry, and as his hands felt all of your naked skin, and all of your sadness turning into pure pleasure, satisfaction filled him to the brim. "No Jay don't pull out please." You whine to Jay as he slowly goes back. "Patience baby. Patience. I'll make you feel even better yeah? Give me my belt would you?" You were quick to reach out to the bedside table, where the brown leather belt lay, waiting for its turn. Jay slowly got your hands up and tied them to the bedframe with the belt tightly, as all you were capable of doing was whine and moan for him. "Jay please" He chuckled slowly at your desperate words and made his way down to your ripped pink panties. Pressing light kisses to your pussy, Jay took in your ever sweet whimpers and as his tongue darted out ever so often to flick you cute little clit, it drove you crazy, as you begged and begged for his cock again and again. "Aww does my Y/N want her daddy's dick inside of her now?" You whimpered again as he came up to you, face right above yours, hot breath, tinted with the smell of alcohol hitting your face. "Yes d-daddy please I need it please." You whispered to him. "Anything for my princess." He kissed you with his tongue moving around in your mouth, hands touching your clit, making you moan out his name, in the dirtiest way possible.

"Ah deeper Jay go deeper please." "You like that baby? Want me to cum inside of you hm?" The belt tied around your hands was untied now, as you moved your hands to Jay's pretty neck and thrust him into you. Jay sucked on your nipple softly, love and roses filling the huge room. The bed was definitely strong, because at the rate both of you were thrusting into each other, it should have broke. But then again, the hotel you were in wasn't called the best in the country for no reason.

"Wanna get in the shower baby?" Jay finally pulled out and flopped next to you on the bed, both of your hair and makeup, a mess. "Sure baby. Round two there?" You asked him, massaging your legs. Jay, to your dissatisfaction, shook his head. "No baby. Lets get washed up. We got an event tomorrow don't we? Don't want you limping at the event do we?" You pouted slightly as you remembered the Prada event you had tomorrow and as an ambassador, you had to deliver a speech. Yep another round of sex with Jay right now and tomorrow, nothing would be on your brain other than getting your pussy filled with his cum again. "Alright oh great Park Joengsoeng. I got your lavender shampoo. Wanna use that?" You said while getting up from the bed, completely naked. "Of course baby." Jay replied.

Winning an award tonight was good but getting your actual award with Jay was even better, you thought, as you entered the hot shower, Jay caressing your hips and kissing your neck. Yep you can't wait to get married to this man.