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burningupp · 2 years ago

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Fated Friends | lmh

skz masterlist

pairing: lee minho x f!reader

warnings: female reader (i'm sorry, i promise to branch out one day), reader has a kid, heavily based off of gilmore girls bc it's my comfort show, slight health scare, not proofread lol

summary: minho isn't a very outwardly emotional guy, and honestly, he's come to be comfortable that way. weird how the kind of person he's sure to be the bane of his existence ends up breaking that habit, huh?

a/n: this is going to be at least two parts... yeah. i'm sorry. anyway i hope you enjoy this, whatever it is. also, sorry for any eventual grammar mistakes; i am not a native english speaker, so be gentle with me pls 🙏 also, i have had this as a wip for a while so using this as an excuse to complete the november clownracha prompt! @wooyussy @sunnytaes

The diner was busy. Minho hadn’t been running it for that long, just two years and some change, but it had still become somewhat of a staple in their little town. There were regulars who came in almost every day for at least one meal, and even though he might not show it outwardly, he really enjoyed making them food they seemed to appreciate.

There was a routine to it all, and it made him feel safe. The first six months he’d had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and it had been terrifying. Once he got past the insecurity, he’d felt good. He had managed to do what his father had done before him and run a successful business. Granted, his father had been running a hardware store before he died, not a diner, but it was close enough in his mind.

Once a year had passed, he started to feel bored instead of good. He loved his diner, and he loved running it, but he felt like there was no excitement in his life (unless you counted burning himself on oil from the deep fryer, of course - that had definitely led him to an eventful few weeks without the use of his left hand). Since he was running his own business, there was practically no rest for him. He had taken a total of two days off since starting the diner, but only because he actually did have to go to the hospital (courtesy of the fryer-incident) and the dentist.

The days that the diner was busy were good. There was no time to think about how he missed fishing and camping, how he hadn’t flirted with a woman since all this started, and much less been on a date with one. There had been a few customers, mostly tourists passing through, who had flirted with him before. He had always been generally awkward, stuttering his way through the interaction and then suffered through the teasing of the older women who lived in the small town and had known him since he was in diapers. It was great, obviously.

And then someone showed up and broke his routine entirely.

It was a busy day, the town selectman had been arranging a festival of some sort to “encourage tourism” which meant that Minho had a whole lot more customers than usual. He was running around taking and delivering orders, refilling coffees, and wiping down tables as fast as he could. He inwardly sighs when he hears the bell over the door ring again, because as much as he loves running a successful business, he’s busy enough as it is.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says over his shoulder as he’s wiping down a table.

“No but see, I don’t have a moment,” a woman’s voice says back, a sort of panicky twinge to it that makes him turn around to look at her.

She’s gorgeous. Her eyes are shining in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her hair is a tangled mess. Her clothing is a bit rumpled, and she’s not wearing any make-up, but suddenly the urge to flirt has returned to him from the dead. Then he hears the bell signaling food is ready, and he’s snapped out of his brief stupor.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, moving toward the two plates readily waiting for him on the counter, “neither do I. Wait or go somewhere else for coffee.”

Once he’s grabbed the food and turned around to give it to the customers at one of the tables in the corner, he is immediately stopped in his tracks as the woman is standing two feet in front of him with a gleam in her eyes that somehow both intrigues and terrifies him.

“No but you don’t understand,” she starts, and Minho heaves a sigh as he dodges around her to actually complete the order delivery, “my coffee machine at home broke, and my five-year-old is sick so I had to stay up all night, and the coffee at work has run out and so I am here, desperately begging you for like five cups of coffee before I collapse in a heap on the street and it’s all your fault.”

The woman follows him to the table and keeps incessantly nagging, and the only thing he can think is wait, she has a five-year-old? She doesn’t look older than 20 or so, if even that. At least that gave him a reason to stop looking at her beautiful eyes, stop his stupid heart from wanting him to talk and flirt with her, because he cannot handle a kid. He kind of hates kids, honestly - they’re always sticky, and never have intelligent answers to anything, and always get on his nerves.

“Listen, it sounds like your day isn’t going particularly well and I have the utmost sympathy for that having had a few bad ones myself, but I have a diner full of hungry people, so if coffee is all you want I’m gonna have to ask you to wait.”

At this, the woman gasps out loud, her eyes widening and jaw dropping indignantly.

“Excuse you? Just coffee? This is classism! Discrimination! You’re the one who serves coffee in the first place, which I know by the way because I saw someone with a take-away cup with your logo on it, and if you don’t want my business then I guess I should just leave.”

This makes Minho snort out loud and turn to her bemusedly. “Fine by me.”

She lets out another indignant gasp and goes up to the counter, grabbing a newspaper that’s just lying there. He hears the bell signaling another order is done, and goes to fetch the plates, but he keeps her in the corner of his eye.

“You,” she says when he walks past her to take another order, “what’s your zodiac sign?”

He stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. What in the world was this woman even doing in here? She must be some kind of crazy. Or many kinds, he mutters in his own head.

“Well if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just going to assume which one,” she says defiantly, staring at him for a moment before huffing. “Okay, taurus it is then.” She then grabs a pen, writes something on the section of horoscopes in the newspaper and tears it out, holding it out to him. “Take it,” she says when he just keeps staring.

“Why should I?” He asks in confusion, and she huffs again.

“Because you should read your horoscope, of course,” she says in a tone that implies he’s being an idiot. Boy, does he feel like one when he takes the note. It says Give the crazy woman a cup of coffee, or she’ll never leave you alone.

“What is this?” He asks exasperatedly, spotting the customers wanting to order becoming impatient.

“It’s your horoscope, duh,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him. “You should do what it says and keep it, I’ve heard that horoscopes have been updated to be the same every day from now on.”

“Every- just fix your coffee-maker, or better yet, get a new one!” Minho finds himself yelling back, and the woman just smirks at him.

“No, I like my old one, my kid put googly eyes on it and we named him Lambert. Now get me my coffee so I can get back to work on time!” Minho stares at her for a bit longer. “You do know that if you’d just given me the coffee when I asked for it I would have been gone already, right?”

He realizes that she’s right, even though he hates to admit it. He gives her a stern glance and goes to take the couple in the corner’s order first before quickly pouring four cups of coffee and handing them to her in a cardboard tray.

Once she gets them, she gives him a huge smile that makes his stomach do a flip before grabbing them and running out the door - not before giving him more money than the coffee is worth. He huffs, staring after her through the window for a moment before being pulled back to reality by the loud clearing of a throat - a customer wants to order.

A few days later, it’s the middle of the afternoon lull. All the dishes are done, all unused tables are cleared, and Minho is filling salt and pepper shakers at the counter when the bell above the door signals that someone entered the diner. He looks up and immediately regrets it when he sees the crazy woman from before accompanied by a little kid.

He begrudgingly has to admit, he had been thinking about her a lot. Her eyes had been so captivating, and the smile she had given him before leaving had made him feel completely out of his depth somehow. Every time he poured a cup of coffee for someone, all he could think about was her. Which is crazy, because he doesn’t even know her name.

This time, her hair is let down and styled in gentle waves. Her clothes aren’t rumpled, and she’s wearing make-up. And yet, the one thing that pulls Minho in is her eyes. Well, that and her absolute angel of a kid. The kid’s eyes are the exact same shade as her mother’s, her cheeks round and rosy, her hair long and neatly brushed, and her bag so full of books it hangs slightly open due to the zipper not being able to close all the way around the sheer volume of them. Her mother helps her hop onto a chair at a table, taking the bag and placing it on the floor. The little girl immediately reaches to grab a book out of it, but her mother snatches it mid-air and places it on the other side of her own chair, out of her daughter’s reach.

“But mom,” the little girl whines with such an adorable pout Minho is sure he would have given in after 0.2 seconds flat, but the woman just shakes her head.

“I know you want to read, and I’m really really glad about that, but we’re gonna be eating now, honey. You don’t want those library books to get all sticky, now do you?”

At her mother’s words, the little girl gasps and shakes her head. It’s the cutest thing he’s seen all day. “I would never let them! That’s gross, and I would probably be fined!” Then she gasps again, her eyes even wider than before. “Would it get put in a record somewhere?!”

Minho expects her mother to simply calm her down, tell her that she probably won’t be put on some list of wrong-doers and that, even if she was put on one, it wouldn’t have any consequences other than a $2 fine.

“Oh yes, you’ll be put on a record. It might even go to the police,” is what she says instead, and Minho blanches. Aren’t you supposed to comfort kids instead of scare them?

“No way,” the little girl says, eyes still wide as saucers.

“Yes way,” her mother says with a straight face and a playful tone. “They’ll put you on a list, and then they will forward it to the police, and they will pay to have a man with a camera to follow you around and take pictures whenever you make a mess. Then all those pictures will be sent to Harvard when you apply.”

The story is ridiculous, and yet… Minho finds himself smiling. It’s kind of funny. Then he starts to fear that the kid is going to cry. He really can’t handle children crying, he hates the sound of it and never knows how to fix it so he gets all panicky and ends up leaving most of the time. (It also kind of breaks his heart, but no one needs to know that.) However, the little girl doesn’t cry. Instead, she grins at her mother.

“Ah yes, whatever shall I do.”

At her response, her mother huffs happily and ruffles her daughter’s hair. The little girl opens a menu and starts browsing through it, looking remarkably concerned as she reads it over. Her mother starts looking around, and suddenly locks eyes with him. She smiles awkwardly. That’s when Minho pulls himself together and realizes he should go take their order. He clears his throat and walks over to their table.

“You’re back,” he remarks in a monotone.

“Ah, yeah,” she says, looking down at her hands on the table. “What are the chances I didn’t act quite as crazy as I remember? Because what is crazy when you think about it, you know?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I would say you qualify,” Minho answers before he really registers what’s going through his head. He freezes, scared that he offended her. She might get on his nerves (kind of), but he doesn’t want to be mean nonetheless. He might lose a customer, after all.

“I agree,” the little girl chimes in, looking up from the menu and grinning at Minho so brightly he’s sure it could have blinded him. He feels his heart squeeze tight. “Mom gets crazy when she doesn’t get her coffee.”

“Hm, well I don’t think you’re old enough to know whether I’m crazy or not, missy,” the woman responds, sticking her tongue out at her daughter, which the little girl does right back.

“I read more than you do, so I would say I am more qualified to make a judgment on that than you are,” the woman’s daughter bites back with a sarcastic grin, and Minho just stares as the woman rolls her eyes and calls her daughter a nerd under her breath with a proud smile through it all.

Having to move on for the sake of his sanity (because if he gets any more opportunities to stare at the woman’s eyes and demeanor and general presence he will absolutely lose it - out of frustration or attraction is unclear), he clears his throat a little and raises the notepad and pencil he has at the ready to take their orders.

“Oh, right,” the woman sighs, grabbing a menu and flipping through it quickly. “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries, a milkshake, a grilled cheese, two donuts and a cup of coffee. Hana?”

Minho just blankly stares at the woman, shocked at the amount of food she had ordered just for herself. It’s 4pm and she ordered food for at least two people? Then again, he muses to himself, she did have a kid so there was probably a husband around somewhere. Maybe they were meeting up and having an early dinner before the town meeting that night?

He tries not to think too hard about the notion of her having a husband; it’s stupid to be disappointed, especially when he still doesn’t know her name or really anything about her except for her crippling caffeine addiction.

“I want a cheeseburger, too,” the little girl - Hana - says thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. “Oh, and can I have extra fries, please?” He can’t say no to her adorable angel-like face (just as he predicted), and just nods, so she continues. “I also want a milkshake and a chocolate muffin, please.”

Her bizarre order goes over his head first, as he is distracted by the little girl’s impeccable manners and the thought that maybe, just maybe, all children aren’t demons, but then he registers what she said and raises his eyebrows as high as they can go.

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of food,” he points out gently. She thinks for a second, chewing on her bottom lip again, and then nods firmly.

“Yes, please,” she says, and he just nods.

“Okay then,” Minho says, half expecting her mother to chime in and tell her that no, it’s a Wednesday and she can’t have that many sweets, but nothing comes aside from an indulging smile.

He goes to the kitchen, tearing the page he had written on out of his notepad and handing it to the chef dazedly. Then he turns around to look at the table again, and just stares. There was no way that little girl could eat that much food, was there?

As it turns out, there was. Minho watches in astonished horror as the sweet angelic little girl puts away a cheeseburger, extra fries, a milkshake and a chocolate muffin. Who really takes the cake, however, is Hana’s mother. His theory about the father joining them had evidently been entirely false, as the food that already had been a tall order for thwo people to consume had been completely devoured by no one except a mid-sized woman and her tiny six-year-old. On top of that, halfway through their meal, the older woman had ordered an extra plate of chili fries. How in the world those were gone in ten minutes, Minho would never know, and he is pretty happy that he can escape that knowledge.

When they are done eating, Hana’s mother patiently helps her wipe down their table so she can take out her homework and get started on it. She then looks around until she finds Minho and waves at him to come over with a smile. He ignores the somersault his stomach does at the gesture.

“Want to pay?” he asks, fully expecting that to be the case.

“Uhm, not yet. Could I just have another cup of coffee?” the woman asks, and he decides enough is enough.

“You do know caffeine is horrible for your health, right? So are burgers, fries, chili fries even more so, donuts and milkshakes,” he points out, fully expecting a screaming match. To his surprise, the woman just smiles brighter.

“Sure I know that. So, my cup of coffee?”

He just blinks in pure astonishment. He then turns around and goes behind the counter to grab the pot of coffee, returning to their table to fill her cup. Then the little girl looks up.

“Excuse me mister, what’s your name?”

The way the little girl has him wrapped around her finger already is terrifying. His heart is melting, he feels the urge to be all sappy and ask her about school, her friends and her hobbies, and play games with her or something. Whatever would make her smile. He has no idea where that urge came from.

“Uh, it’s Lee Minho,” he answers dumbly, looking down into those innocently sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Mr. Lee, could I have some orange soda, please? I’m a bit thirsty,” she says, and he feels the need to save the poor girl from her mother’s habits. Not really, but he is a healthy man himself, and he wants a kid like her to live a long, healthy and happy life.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some water, then?” he asks gently, but when she shakes her head, he just sighs. “Coming right up. Oh, and you can just call me Minho.”

“Okay. Thank you, Minho. My name is Hana, and this is my mom Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” she beams at him, and he feels himself melt once more. Damn it.

“Nice to meet you too, Hana,” he says and goes to fetch her soda.

Since that first afternoon the L/N girls visited his diner, Minho sees them at least three times a week for the next 3 years. Well, he sees Y/n pretty much every morning for her regular coffee fix. Apparently they did manage to fix Lambert, but apparently his coffee was “better than anything Lambert could ever make.” They told him vehemently that Lambert could never know this, and he had to keep it a secret from him. They both now greet him by name, and they usually have a quick chat about what’s going on, just like he does with some other regulars.

Then again, he can’t exactly claim that he is quite as interested in the other regulars as he is in the mother-daughter duo. He asks them about work and school, and they pull him into their debates over stupid stuff (that Hana almost always wins), and he finds himself enjoying it. It must be something about their positive outlook on life, or how crazy smart Hana is, or just about how excited they are about seemingly dull and boring things. They talked about the little town’s makeshift cinema as if it was entertainment of the highest degree, better than most things you can do in big cities, despite it being someone’s living room with a cheap projector and a popcorn machine. He does not understand it, but it sure is refreshing.

He’s still just as smitten with Hana as he was the first day, if not more. She’s intelligent and funny, and even though she does certain childish things, she largely feels like an innocent grown-up. He had once asked her about a book she was reading, which turned into a (one-sided) debate on different classical writers and their influence on both society and one another, and he was lost in the first minute. He briefly wondered if her mother had any idea what she was talking about, but it quickly became clear that she did not.

Then one day, only Y/n comes bursting through the door of the diner, during mid-morning no less. She is almost frantic, breathing hard and fast, eyes wild and hair ruffled.

“Minho!” she exclaims when she sees him, body sagging in relief. “I need your help.”

He immediately sets down the pot of coffee, walking towards her with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“My coffee?” a customer says impatiently.

“Bite me,” Minho responds over his shoulder without hesitation.

“It’s Hana,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. Minho puts a hand on her shoulder as he feels his heart speed up to a truly concerning pace. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to make her feel better, or if it’s purely to steady himself, but he thinks it doesn’t matter. “She-she has this, uhm… this stomach ache, and a really, really high fever, a-and it won’t go away and I was, uhm, I was reading this book, and,” a breath leaves her in a whoosh before she gulps down another one, “and it said something about if pressure on her stomach makes her feel better, she should go to the hospital because it might be appendicitis so I was going to take her to the hospital, but my stupid car won’t s-start and I need…” she stops and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before looking at him with absolute fire in her eyes. “I need you to take us. Please.”

Minho’s brain is going a mile a minute. He thinks about nothing except for that poor girl in pain. He thinks about how awful he feels whenever he has a fever, and how much worse it must be for such a tiny, innocent little girl. And then he thinks about whether or not she’s staying warm despite her high temperature, because he heard something about keeping the temperature up helping the body beat viruses and bacteria and making you healthy faster. And then he thinks about what he should be doing in this position, because he’s never been a father bef-

And then he stops. He stops and thinks about the fact that he is not her father. He is not the person who should be worrying like this. He is not the person Y/n should be turning to, because she should have a support system in her husband, and he wonders why in the world her husband isn’t currently breaking a million traffic laws speeding down the highway to get his daughter into capable hands. And then…

He doesn’t like to think about it too much, but sometimes he can’t stop himself. Mainly when it’s late at night, and the town is quiet, and all he can hear is the hum of his broiler and the light shifting of the sheets whenever he breathes. That’s when he can’t stop his mind from imagining. Imagining being Hana’s father. God, how proud he would be. He imagines walking her to school, buying her gifts for her birthday and spoiling her without spoiling her too much because he still wants her to be a rational adult some day. He imagines cooking for her, imagines the day he gets her absolute favorite food right, and the way that Y/n would be in the kitchen while he cooks, sitting at the kitchen table in the house they would have, talking absolute nonsense with their daughter. He imagines waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Hana getting a glass of water in the kitchen, only to roll over in bed and find Y/n, his wife, right there, sleeping soundly beside him.

That’s usually when he stops himself. But this time, he imagines that whole situation. And then he imagines Y/n, his (hypothetical) wife, asking another man to help her take his sick daughter to the hospital, and he can’t do it. So he does what he has been so diligently avoiding, and asks her.

“What about her father?”

Minho’s voice is gentle, and he looks into Y/n’s eyes just as softly. He wants her to understand that he would do absolutely anything for Hana, hell, he would do anything for her because he has no doubts that he is so in love with her he would marry her on the spot even though they’ve barely broached the basics about one another, but in this particular instant he really does not want to step on any toes.

But then, she scoffs. She scoffs at him, rolls her eyes, and her jaw clenches a bit. It’s a clear signal to him that her father is most likely not an option at the moment.

“Okay I know we haven’t talked about this and we really should, and I promise you we will, but please can we talk about it when my daughter is not in excruciating pain and needs her mommy? Please?”

So he lets go of all his preconceived notions and nods. He squeezes her shoulder once, then turns around and grabs his keys. He doesn’t even glance into the kitchen as he yells for his chef, Felix, to handle things for the rest of the day, even though he hears a startled and confused shout right before the door swings shut behind the pair of them, because he thinks that as long as Hana and Y/n are okay, his business could burn down for all he cares.

They get to the hospital okay, and Hana is immediately ushered into an exam room and then to an operating room. Minho isn’t in the exam room with them, but he does go to see the little girl off before the surgery.

“I’m scared,” she whispers to her mother, eyes shiny with unshed tears, but her mother just shushes her with a calm smile.

“That’s okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere except for the waiting room and maybe the cafeteria until you can come home with me.”

“Even if Channing Tatum asks you on a date right now?”

“Mm, I would have to consider it, but I think that if Channing can’t wait, we weren’t meant to be anyhow,” Y/n teases her daughter who just giggles in response. Then Hana turns to Minho.

“Thank you for driving us,” she says meekly, and he feels his heart twist and crush into a ball in his chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, little one,” he smiles gently, and she reaches out a hand to him which he grasps immediately. “Thank you for letting me see you off before your surgery.”

“I’m glad you did,” she says back, eyes a little less teary. Then she gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think I’ll have a cool scar?”

He can’t help himself and scoffs a little laugh, squeezing her hand encouragingly. He sees Y/n smile too, and he has somehow never felt as complete as he does in that exact moment. It scares him. It’s not real. But he will keep pretending for as long as he can.

“The coolest,” he answers before the doctors let them know that the OR is ready for them.

Minho and Y/n walk out to the waiting room and sink onto the chairs heavily. He is briefly impressed by how well she seemed to be handling everything, before he turns to her and sees her shaking, tears streaming down her face. She seems to be holding her breath, too, probably not wishing to openly sob in a hospital waiting room.

He briefly considers his options of hugging her or not before deciding that screw it, she needs comfort and he’s there so he will provide it for her. He smiles gently despite his heart breaking in his chest at her tears, and gets in front of her to half-crouch so he can give her a hug.

For a second he worries that he overstepped her boundaries, but then he feels her completely melt into his embrace and bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the sobs she no longer can hold back and shield her tear-streaked face from the other people in the room. She relaxes so much that they almost fall onto the floor, and Minho decides that it’s best to just pick her up in his arms and settle on one of the chairs with her in his lap.

It’s a horrible moment. She’s crying, sobbing, shaking, and he can’t do anything except hold her there. The woman who was so strong, so determined and so unique just crumbled in his arms like a tower of sand. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her. He puts a hand on the back of her head, the other remaining around her waist as she sits horizontally across his lap. He gently squeezes whenever her sobs get louder or her breathing picks up, just reminding her that he is there and he will remain there until she asks him not to.

After twenty minutes or so, her crying subsides into regular sniffling, and he feels her pull back from his shoulder to wipe at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Then she clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice still shaky.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to help,” Minho says sincerely.

And it is sincere. There is nothing that has ever fulfilled him more than this moment, helping and feeling useful and needed and wanted. It’s a sad moment, awful even, but he feels like there is nowhere else he would rather be either way.

He has come to terms with the fact that he views Hana as family. He sees her so often, and she always talks to him, listens to what he has to say almost as if she admires him, and it fills his heart more than anything. When she gets full points on her homework, as she always does, no one (except her mother) is more proud than he is. As long as he gets to be in her life, he is happy.

“God, I’m sorry for bursting in there and just babbling and making you take us,” Y/n breathes out as if she didn’t hear him. “You really didn’t have to, but I pushed and now you probably hate us bo-”

“Impossible,” he interrupts, and Y/n stops rambling. “You two are part of my routine now. I care, you know?”

She gazes at him in shock, searching for any trace of insincerity. When she doesn’t find one, her face slowly melts into a fond smile despite the fear still present on her face. He briefly thinks that she never looked more beautiful, although he’s pretty sure he thinks that every time he lays eyes on her.

“Thank you, Minho,” she sighs out, slumping a bit again.

She seems to realize she’s still firmly positioned on his lap, and immediately gets up, clearing her throat. He immediately mourns the loss of her weight on him, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, I think I promised you a talk about Hana’s dad,” she says after a few moments of silence.

“Oh, that,” Minho says, suddenly feeling like a douche. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. It has nothing to do with me anyway. I just wanted to make sure I don’t… make a situation uncomfortable.”

Y/n snorts, and he immediately shuts up. What’s that supposed to mean? Did he say something stupid?

“Minho, how many times have we been at your diner in the past few years?” she starts, an unreadable look on her face. He thinks it’s unnatural how she manages to look beautiful even in hospital lighting. “I can’t count the amount of times. If her dad was around, don’t you think that he would have shown up, or we would have mentioned him at least once?”

He casts his mind back over the years, and realizes it might have been a stupid question. Then again, some fathers weren’t very present in their children’s lives. Maybe he lived out of the country, or he worked night shifts so he was always asleep during the day. He had no way of knowing.

“I don’t know,” he answers after a few moments. “Some people are just like that, I guess.”

She slowly nods, mulling over his words for a second. “I suppose,” she then says, smiling faintly. “He kind of is, actually. Either way, to set the record straight; her father - Changbin - isn’t in the picture.” When he failed to mask his intrigue at the answer, she just laughed a little. “I got pregnant at 16. He wanted to get married, but I didn’t. Kind of glad now, to be honest - I doubt he will ever grow up.” Her words hold an edge of irritation, but she is evidently trying to push that feeling back. “He talks to Hana on the phone sometimes, when he gets the time. Last we talked I’m pretty sure he said he was in Ibiza? It doesn’t really matter. I have Hana, and she has me, and we’re okay like this. We learned not to expect too much from him long ago - not that we were expecting much in the first place.”

Minho listens until Y/n stops talking. He struggles a bit to figure out what he thinks of the situation. At least the man had offered to do the right thing, he supposes. Then again, from the sound of it Y/n had made the right decision in not marrying that guy, whoever he is. He comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t actually matter. Like she said, the two of them have one another, and if they say that’s enough, then he believes them.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me, and letting me know I wasn’t severely pissing some dude off for acting like a father to his daughter for a few hours,” he jokes mildly, and then regrets it. He shouldn’t have said father. Just because he sees Hana as a sort of surrogate daughter does not mean that she or her mother feel the same way, or even think that it’s okay.

But then Y/n smiles softly again, and he can relax. “Yeah. She’s lucky to have someone who does.”

His heart feels like it’s beating in his throat, his body warm from the inside due to all the feelings filling his chest. God, he wishes he had the courage to offer to do it always, to move in and help Y/n with raising her daughter because he knows that she must have it hard at times, no matter how angelic Hana is. But he doesn’t. So he just nods and smiles.

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cowboymcflurry · 2 months ago

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I see you | Jim Hopper x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: You recently moved to Hawkins, Indiana to have some piece and quiet to pursue your dream of becoming a writer, whilst also having to work at the diner to be able to pay your bills. But Hawkins isn't what it seems and soon you witness the disappearance of Will Byers, a local boy. When you tell the head of police, who turns out to be a regular at the diner, all about what you saw, not only a strange story unfolds but also a complicated relationship with attractive Chief Hopper.

Chapter: 1 / ?

includes: strangers to lovers, slow burn, getting together, first meeting, set in season 1, post season 1, pre season 2, hopper is a ladies man but he actually really likes you, age of reader is not mentioned but reader is in her late 20s, no description of reader, no use of Y/N, Hopper falls first

************************************************************************

Chapter 1: "The New Waitress"

“That was the last one Ma’am” one of the movers told you, setting down the last box in your brand new apartment.

“Thank you so much for your help.” you said, taking his hand to slide him a 20 bill, like you had seen your dad do when you were a kid. He smiled at you, exposing a set of brilliant white teeth that made you remember that you had to schedule a dentist appointment soon.

As you looked around your new home you couldn’t help but feel both sad and happy at the same time. It had been quite the decision to move to Hawkins, Indiana, only to be able to focus more on yourself and your writing. Nobody had understood and nobody had taken you seriously. But you were done with pretending to be someone that you weren’t, so you had pulled out a map, closed your eyes and put your index finger somewhere on it. You had been a bit disappointed that your finger hadn’t magically landed on New York City or sunny Los Angeles, but a town you had never heard of in the middle of nowhere. But maybe that was good. Maybe that was exactly what you needed. Space and quiet.

Even though you had moved here to pursue your artistic dreams, you still had to have a stable income to pay your bills. As soon as you had stepped out of your run down pick up truck for the first time in Hawkins, you had asked in about every store, restaurant or cafe if they needed any help. Betty’s Diner was where you got lucky and eventually hired.

“Hey, new girl! Table 5!” Sharon barked, causing you to flinch.

“Got it.” you replied before getting into motion.

“Hey there, what can I get for you?” you asked, ready to jot down whatever this broad hunk of man wanted. The guy’s head shot in your direction. His bearded face had a frown on it and his deep sea blue eyes studied your face skeptically. You couldn’t deny that he was pretty attractive. He blinked.

“Are you new here?” he asked, making it sound like an accusation. Oh man, was he one of those guys who always ordered the same thing and expected the ‘The usual?’ treatment accompanied by a cheeky wink and an accidental brush over his huge bicep? You sure hoped not because if so, he’d gotten the wrong girl for that.

“Yeah.” you said dryly, raising your brows at his confused expression. “So?”

“Uh… coffee. Black. And scrambled eggs. Donut. Bacon. Crispy.”

You wondered if he’d had a stroke.

“Sure.” you mumbled, writing down his order, “Coming right up.”

Ten minutes later you brought the guy a plate full of his breakfast and poured him a cup of coffee.

“If you need anything else, let me know.” you said with a weary smile, before leaving him alone with his food.

************************************************************************

“Who’s your new waitress?” Hopper asked Betty, while you were in the back, restocking shelves.

“Oh… She just moved here. Nice girl, a bit weird though. Why, was she rude?” Betty asked, cocking an eyebrow. Hopper shook his head.

“No! No, she was just… Your other waitresses are more -”

“Extroverted?” Betty asked. Hopper laughed out loud.

“Well, yeah, maybe.” he said, thinking about how you hadn’t grinned and greeted him with ‘Chief, what are you doing here?’ while hitting him playfully on his bicep. Your annoyed and confused look had been refreshing. Was that how celebrities felt when they met someone who didn’t know who they were?

************************************************************************

“Hey, new girl.” Betty said, coming up to you, as you were still busy restocking the shelves.

“Hey Betty, what’s up?”

“Your tip from Table 5.” she said, handing you a 5 dollar bill. You frowned.

“I thought all the tips get in the tip jar?”

“Yeah, but the customer insisted on you getting it.” she said, smiling. You burst out laughing.

“What? Why?”

“He said he’s sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable and that he liked your service.”

You furrowed your brows.

What the hell was that weirdo on?!

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fanfiction

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amour-de-tous · 2 years ago

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Hello my friends, it is that horrible time where I once again am going to be poor on main. (CW for lots of dental talk and surgery talk; if you want the non-medical details plea hit up the TL;DR at the bottom) As you may or may not know, I have had a Dental Emergency™. In very early October my tooth Broke A Lot and the earliest the surgeon could see me was December 13th. That was a long....long wait eating pureed foods. 😅 (I am still not back to eating Regular and I cannot WAIT until I am) I have had the surgery! Which involved general anesthesia! Which was a lot really, both mentally and physically and, mostly, financially (okay, no, mostly physically, but the financially is killing me softly here). This is only step/stage/part 1 of the process, the removal of the broken tooth and the bone graft. I still need 2 more visits with this specialist surgeon, before I have to go back to the Regular Dentist Guy and finish the process/get my other teeth dealt with (plus some day I’d like my teeth cleaned again but that’s not gonna happen any time soon lol). The whole cost of all this is going to be around $8,000. Yes, that is ABSURD. Yes, I am furious. No, my insurance doesn’t cover any of this, because of course it doesn’t. :| No, I am not asking for anywhere near that amount, that’d also be absurd. But any little bit helps, you know? I should PROBABLY start a gofundme but for reasons I Cannot Get Into On A Public Platform, I actually cannot do that, either (anyone wanna start one for me? aha). TL;DR: I need money for dental surgery/reconstruction that is an ongoing process and going to cost an absolutely ridiculous amount of money. So this is the part where I say if you have any extra cash and would like to lend a helping hand to this disabled, unemployed, still-stuck-at-home-because-I’m-immunocompromised-and-covid-is-a-Thing nerd, would you? Paypal is cnmusic @ cathasaigh dot com. You know the drill (friends/family so paypal doesn’t think I should be providing a shipping invoice for a product that doesn’t exist lol). However, if you’re seeing this after the new year (after December 31st 2022) please message me before you donate, because Paypal’s new $600 cap is going live next year and I Cannot Deal With Complicated Taxes, I Will Simply Perish. My chronic illness brainfog cannot handle that without at least ten breakdowns and seventy eleven meltdowns and a cry. lol Thanks, lovelies. And as always, please, please, please do not feel at all bad or guilty or any of that if you can’t contribute!!! I get it! I am also super duper broke! We are still in a ~*;PANDEMIC;*~ . I get it, no worries! Also, since things are tough for most folks right now with ~*;PANDEMIC;*~ and holidays and families and such, I hope you have a very good day and something good happens to you every day this week and also that you manage to acquire your favourite food or treat, regardless of whether you can help or not. <3 Also, okay to reblog!

#ponderings and musings #donations #watch me reblog 87 things to hide this post now because i'll be embarrassed #love that for me!#me to my friends: please ask for help when you need it! there is absolutely no shame in it!!!#me to me: no one wants to listen to you cry about not being able to work #i have some internal stuff to unpack huh??

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cintasfics · 2 months ago

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Weekend Warriors - 1x06

Marley goes with the boys to the park, thinking they’re just there for a picnic or a nice hike

Shawn: What’s with the binoculars? Marley: Birdwatching. I bought my pocket guide too, fits into the bag perfectly, see? Shawn: Amazing. How old are you again? Marley: Shut up, it’s a fun and interesting hobby Shawn: Not the words I would use, but sure, if you say so

She’s thrilled once she sees the civil war rehearsal

Marley: Oh sweet, this is just like that episode of South Park! Or The Simpsons! Gus: Does all your knowledge of American culture come from tv shows? Marley: Movies too Gus: And is that Lassiter? Shawn: Yes, it is Gus: What died on his face? Marley: Huh, didn’t take him for a LARP’er

When Shawn makes their presence known to Lassiter, Marley sends him a friendly little wave

Back at the site of the reenactment after the meeting down at the police station, Shawn catches them up on the situation

Shawn: Gus, she was hot, and she was dressed as a nurse. You know how I feel about that. [Noticing Marley’s side eye] I say with the utmost respect for the profession

She agrees with Shawn’s hunch that this is a murder case

Marley: There’s no reason for live ammunition to be anywhere near this place, and with most of the people being cops, I would hope that they would be able to tell the difference between real and fake bullets. This had to be intentional

Sitting on the bridge watching Lassie give his orders

Lassiter: Find something amusing? Shawn: Mildly amusing. More odd. Delightful, in a queer sort of way Marley: [Nodding along] I find it cute how seriously you take all this Shawn and Gus: [Send her a questioning look, Lassiter and cute not going together in their minds] Lassiter: [Is taken aback by her comment, taking a second before continuing] Lassiter: What are you guys doing here anyway? Gus: I’m a bit of a civil war buff Marley: I just love this kind of stuff

She continues to be impressed by Shawn’s memory and perception, struggling to believe he memorised the war map so quickly and was able to recreate it in their office

Having agreed to cover a co-workers shift at the hospital, she misses the trip to the dentist, but when Shawn approaches her the next day with his plan to infiltrate the camp she is immediately on board

Seeing all the cool stuff in Mahoney’s collection, and being a history lover herself, she struggles to pay attention to what they’re saying

Marley, practically vibrating with excitement: Is this real C-4? Is it authentic? Gus: Better yet, is it even legal? Mahoney: For the reenactments. We fudge the fireworks sometimes. Our audience goes wild every year when the fake cannon fire showers them with dirt Marley: That’s so fucking cool Gus: [Clears throat] Marley: Sorry. I mean, that’s really cool

Due to the lack of remaining women’s roles in the battle, Marley ends up acting as a soldier (tying her hair back and wearing fake mutton chops), much to Gus’ displeasure

Gus: Why do I have to wear all these tassels and feathers, while she gets a regular uniform? Marley: Gus, buddy, I’d swap with you if I could but I think it’ll be a bit of a squeeze on your end Gus: What are you trying to say, Marley? Marley: Nothing! You’re just a lot broader in the shoulders than the guy this costume was intended for Gus, to Sally: Maybe you could alter it? Sally: I’m sorry Gus, it’s just not possible Shawn: Well, I think you look great Gus: Be quiet, Shawn

She admonishes Shawn for bringing his tv and portable stove with him, saying it goes against the whole idea of camping out, but can’t deny the temptation of his gaming system

When they find out Sally is the target after investigating the field and tree

Gus: Why would someone want to kill Sally Reynolds? Marley: Well, she works in insurance Shawn: So? Marley: Money is a good motive for murder, top 10, some would say Gus: But she only writes the policies, she doesn’t gain anything Marley: I don’t know, but I’m sure it plays into it somehow

They steal Sally’s dress, with the intention of putting Marley in her place but they’re stopped by Juliet, who refuses to let them endanger themselves

After Juliet comes out unscathed and they find Mahoney’s uniform on the other side of the hidden tunnel

Shawn: Wait. This doesn't track. Why kill Sally? She's hot, they're friends. She even wrote his insurance policy [Explosion] Marley: That was the C-4! Shawn: That didn't come from the battlefield, it came from the south [All three of them share a look] Shawn: I solved the crime! Gus: No, I did! Shawn: I said it first Gus: I identified the uniform Shawn: I found the button near the tree. I said it first. Tap, tap, no take-backs Marley: Guys! You’re forgetting something very important! Both: What? Marley: I solved it yesterday!

Back at the station, as Lassiter passes the three of them to leave the room after wrapping up the case

Lassiter: Excuse me… [pauses to look Marley up and down, the woman still in her uniform, sans the hat] gentlemen…

#marley williams #psych x oc #psych fic #mine

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 1 year ago

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9.30.23 Saturday

12:14 am

I have windblow...Windblow... Can't sleep... Thinking of my future angels. I need to keep a the job in Iqor, I need money and I have creditz..

I have windblow,windblow...

10:10 am

Done,taking my meds for today... hmm... Some good friends update me about the new work force to avoid a "sudden log-out" hala.....I need to pee... hahah... Seriously, I don't know this is a "challenger task" for me... I just need a job though it is a challenge for me, why they can and why I can't??? Whew! Where can I get a powerful back-up??? Will be 42 next month and I always feel defeated...

12:15 noon

Ah! Argh! Semi-bad news ... It is weird in Iqor for that wave wave or all call center? I'm just trying to grasp the substance of call center...

Talking on some friends about me being absent for a week, that I didn't get the troubled life of people in Iqor... That possibly if I'm gonna be rewaved, I need to be in a class where I left that particular day topic on calling phase or TCC ( taking customer call ). Potang inah angels! I borrowed money from Tala... Then, possible I will be on a pause just like Champi. Shit! What a bullshit work style...

I don't know what to feel but I know I feel the anxiety or stress now... Just now, I'm having mild left eye twitching due to semi-bad news. I WANNA LAUGH AND CRY AT THE SAME TIME...

I need money... I need money... I DON'T HAVE POWER... Another thing, I can't choose to stay or can't choose to be on a particular wave... PLUS, IF YOU ARE ON A PAUSE, NO SALARY...

If only I have powerful links... I know it is job and I'm giving my best to really grasp everything but you can't do it on overnight unless it is love just like some of the old particular scenario of "waking up married"....

Huh? Waking up married? Yeah...Yeah... Waking up married with someone hahaha...

I feel jealous if there are special than me and I wasn't able to get the power or someone got the power...

The last time I wanna be with Miles/ dread-locks guy, hoping for a "waking-up married" , it is a baggage thing for him, probably...

A wife is sometimes a baggage... Sorry for that and I didn't mean it these days... I have so many complex in me...

I also thought I was married with Mike but he is gone...

Whew! Que Sera Sera.... Will wait on October 3 what will happen to me?

Anxiety of not having the power or powerful links...

1:08 pm

LET'S TALK ABOUT POWER AND IF ONLY I HAVE IT...

Power is not bad, it is priviledge... It is somehow blessing....Power means free and licensed!

Meaning angels, hoping to just continue or just allow me to finsih my tcc even on the wave of Miles/dread-locks... Coz it is possibly to put me on a pause. If I'm gonna be on a pause meaning no work attendance, no salary....

2:27 pm

I feel the stress... I feel bitter and self-pity... What about my collagen, my sand dunes and botox... It will be christmas...

I need to think and think of money.

In a way I miss doing my abs but I need a job... I feel stress... Whew!

I feel irritated... Coz on other company once you are hired,you are hired!

I feel bitter...

SUPER STRANGE, are Mia and Champi hiding something at my back... Which I don't know...

I have windblow...Windblow...

6:18 pm

I need to do my abs angels... I feel so old,ugly,wrinkled and fat....

6:34 pm

I feel bitter...Windblow2x...

youtube

6:56 pm

I feel bitter... I have no successful job and no savings until now and no extra money for something...

I wasn't able to polish my teeth again, though it look ohkay but it is amalgam that I have to polish again... One of the reasons why, I don't smoke coz of I'm taking care of my teeth... I CAN'T GO BACK TO MY DENTIST... I LOVE KISSING SO MUCH! I always had have coffee stain on my teeth I really need to do a regular visit on my dentist.

I feel conscious.... I really feel fat and ugly and old angels... I'm not happy... My power on men are not that powerful... Aging for nothing...

We will have reunion in a lil while in IMMACULATE CONCEPTION ACADEMY. I feel self-pity and bitter... I can't get a success....I feel so small... I'm thinking,I'm gonna be a small i there.... So, many complex in me....Seeing them having kids and I lost my future and I lost my love life... I feel bitter and sad! I'm super sad and not my ideal life...I miss going to gym... I'm not really happy... I'm thinking of money... I feel so ugly...

8:13 pm

I'm bisexual angels but one at a time... If I have a relationship with a man, I'm on it 100%.

But I can sleep with a girl having a relationship of us or being a sisterhood. I know limits and boundaries...

I have windblow2x...

But I'm always wanting penis and a feeling of someone is stronger than my femininity.... I always wanted someone having a broad shoulder than me... I want to have an ideal normal life.

I only like Mitch, Ouen, and Mayee... Most specially Mitch,if we meet again, I can't behave anymore if I'm single... If I have a bf then I respect boundaries and limitations...

I like those girls coz of the package that they got looks and nice pure heart...

Jen of 468, she is not my type coz of her not having etiquette... But I'm a professional wavemate... If it is about work we're ohkay but more than that, no... Jen is pretty but when the time that she asked me if my nose is real from a distance... Huh? A turn off for me... Not my gf!

#Youtube

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michaeljfoy · 1 year ago

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Dental Insurance for Dummies?

Advanced warning: The following plunges the reader into the world of Dental Insurance. It isn’t for the faint of heart.

That tooth’s got to come out. Ever hear your dentist utter that phrase? Yikes!

I say that not because of any physical pain that you may be in for, but for the financial pain. In an earlier blog about this same subject, I commented that I’d cheerily accept pain in order to save some greenbacks. And by “some” greenbacks, I mean a lot.

In that case, I declined the oral surgeon’s anesthesia, because the insurance wouldn’t cover it. I don’t need your stinking anesthesia, I said … in my head. Don’t want to offend the guy that’s drilling into my jawbone.

The procedure I was undergoing was the installation of a dental implant. And it’s a marvelous leap forward in dental science, compared to the removable false-tooth options available to our parents.

But it isn’t cheap — and insurance companies view it as an extravagance. Couldn’t you get by on a set of hand-carved wooden teeth, like the father of our country? If it was good enough for George Washington, yada, yada, yada. I’m sure that’s in their internal company literature somewhere.

Anyway, after the oral surgeon was done with me, I had a bolt in my jaw. Thus equipped, my regular dentist could then cover the bolt with something indistinguishable from a real tooth.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

When the oral surgeon did his thing, I was covered by my wife’s dental insurance from work. But before my dentist could complete the procedure, my wife left her job, vowing never to work again.

Not to worry, I thought. I’ll just purchase an individual plan for us, with the same company. They will then help pay for completing the procedure that was started under their watch. They even confirmed that there would be no waiting period to cover any dental mayhem, since we were just with them.

So all was well, right?

Wrong!

My dentist informed me that the insurance company was balking at paying her. She tried several times. With steam coming out of my ears, I called Customer Service. The entity on the phone (I don’t want to say person because it’s hard to believe a human could be that monotone) stated that they’re not obliged to pay, because the missing tooth issue was under a different company.

My wife worked locally, but her former employers’ headquarters is out of state. They purchased group coverage through the out of state branch; my individual plan was purchased through the Massachusetts branch. Surprisingly to me, and any rational person, the two branches consider themselves separate companies.

“You’ve got to be effing kidding me,” I said. But Monotone Man’s voice inflection never budged in telling me that’s the way it is.

I appealed by email to a higher authority at the company. I tried to blend contrition for having been born with a set of teeth and a sense of “oh, come on; let’s be reasonable.”

Several weeks later, I answered a knock at my front door. It was a certified letter from the insurance company. I had pretty much given up any hope of recouping some of the cost — but this move surprised me.

I tore open the important communiqué. In case I hadn’t been sure that I was being screwed over before, the letter put an exclamation point on it:

Shockingly, they had reviewed my case with respect to internal company rules, and confirmed that I could go pound sand.

Thankfully, I had already canceled my coverage the prior month, after they’d paid for a cleaning and an X-ray.

So take that, insurance company whose name I won't even utter!

An old boss of mine used to say that insurance was legalized extortion. Boy, was he right.

Now, while I shudder at my next run-in with the dental community, I’ll close with a question:

Know any good dental plans?

The End

A short story prequel to the upcoming

Cord Devlin: From Trekkie to Elite NSA Asset

is FREE ($0.00) for a limited time at https://michaeljfoy.com/

#dental implants #dental insurance

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glmfic · 5 years ago

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GH Christmas 2019 | one-shot collection

~ pairing: Masako x John ~ word count: 2,150k ~ genre: holiday!fic

~ summary: ❝ John & Masako hold a Christmas movie marathon at church and incidentally teach the children about mistletoe...of course they have to know if it works just like the movies <3 ❞

~ warnings: candy cane sweet fluff!...also, maybe some typos I didn’t catch ;) ~ note: the first in a series of 4 one-shots dedicated to my dear readers (happy holidays!)-- enjoy! <3

Silver Screen

Something brushed up against Masako's side, startling her. Masako glanced to her left. There, kneading the carpet and bumping it's head against her again, was the church's resident cat.

“Mittens,” a small voice cooed to Masako's right. A young child leaned over her lap, reaching for the cat.

Masako picked up the cat held it out to the child, “Here Mittens, see Yuri a minute.”

The little girl gently accepted the cat, peppering it's head with kisses. A chorus of “aww” and “so cute” rang out. Mittens was very popular with the children of the Holy Trinity Church.

“She likes you,” John remarked, looking from the group of children clustered around the cat, to Masako, and then down at the projector he was working on.

Masako stood, picking at her kimono. The rich pine color marred by orange fuzz.

“I like her too. If only she didn't leave behind so much hair.”

John looked up, a bright smile pulling at his lips.

“I meant Yuri. She normally has difficulty adjusting to strangers.”

Masako clasped her hands together, with a small shrug.

“I can't really be considered a stranger now. She's seen me every Friday for the past four weeks.”

Movie night. It had started as a one time thing. John had found an old projector in the church attic and invited Masako to join himself and the children in their little screening of Miracle on 34th Street. But after such a successful evening, Miracle on 34th Street turned into The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas turned into It's A Wonderful Life, then finally-- just a few days before the holiday, they were to finish things off with A Christmas Carol.

John nodded,

“That's true.”

Masako wandered nearer to John, peering around him.

“Are you about done?”

John's blue eyes met Masako's dark one's with amusement,

“Almost. Why? Are you that excited for tonight's movie?”

“The kids are. Mittens will only be entertaining so long.”

“That's exactly what Sister Angela would say. You know them so well now. Ah, there--”

John powered on the projector and there was a collective squeal of excitement. The cat jumped free of Yuri's arms as half the children scrambled to their seats on a pile of pillows in front of the projector screen and a few ran for the light switches,

“I've got the lights, I got it--”

With a click the large playroom was suddenly awash in the warm glow of flickering candles and twinkling Christmas lights.

The hum of the projector and the tinny tone of the opening score filled the air and the children all settled down, eyes fixed on the screen. Except when someone was touching someone. Or the pillow was too lumpy. Or they wanted to hold Mittens. Sitting three kids apart at the back of the group, John and Masako worked in tandem. With practiced ease they separated bickering children, passed around snacks and then wet wipes for sticky hands and faces, quietly answered questions, held hands for comfort at any sad or scary parts. Yuri, who was particularly afraid of ghosts, sat herself on Masako's lap and refused to move through the entirety of A Christmas Carol.

Occasionally, Masako stole a glance over at John. One little girl had her head resting against his knee, and sleeping on his other-- Mittens. When John laughed the sound was bright, mixing with the giggles of the children around them. Masako smiled to herself, thinking how much she had enjoyed the last few weeks. As if he could feel her stare, John turned toward Masako. It was hard to tell her expression in the dim light and he gave her a slight questioning look, but she just shook her head and directed his attention back to the movie. But afterward, more than once, she caught him staring at her.

One hour and two bathroom breaks later, the credits rolled to a burst of applause. Little ones stood and stretched. Some, with antsy legs, began an impromptu game of chase. The ruckus in the room grew, until John spoke, asking his tiny audience what they thought of the movie. The children congregated around him again, eager to share their thoughts. It was more exciting than the other movies. Scrooge was a strange person. Yuri whispered to Masako that the ghost weren't that bad.

When someone started crying because they stubbed their toe, and another little boy nearly tripped on Mittens, Masako suggested the lights be turned on. The children raced to complete the task, nearly falling over their own feet. The switches were flipped and...pop! The twinkling Christmas lights went out.

In the dark of only candlelight someone shouted “ghosts!” and Masako felt her kimono clutched at by Yuri.

“Never mind, the ghosts were bad-- they were!”

Masako bent down to pat Yuri's head and reassure her as John ordered everyone to calm down and sit. After a head count, and a few repeated explanations that the lights going out were not ghosts, he excused himself to go see what the problem was, and get some flash lights if necessary. John paused at the door, glancing over at the medium, crouched down with Yuri clinging to her.

“Will you be alright with them?”

Masako summoned a confident look,

“Of course, go figure it out.”

John nodded, and stepped out the door. She couldn't tell because of the low light, but Masako swore he flashed her a smile as he went.

With John gone and the room so dark, the children huddled around the medium. Yuri made small whimpers. Masako pursed her lips, determined to live up to her confidence. Remembering hearing John do it once or twice, she softly began to hum. It wasn't any tune in particular, but Yuri's whimpers slowed as she listened.

“What's song is that?” a little boy at Masako's elbow asked.

“Yes, what is it? Can we hum it too?” a little girl begged, tugging on Masako's sleeve.

Yuri pulled her head away from Masako's shoulder and peered up at her, “Will it keep the ghosts away?”

“But didn't you hear Father John? There aren't any ghosts.”

“There are in that movie.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please, what is the song?”

Masako looked down at Yuri thoughtfully, “What is your favorite Christmas song? Let's hum that.”

Yuri's small voice answered, “Away in a Manger.”

“Oh, I don't know that one. Can you show me?”

There were murmurs of agreement, and then somehow altogether, the children began to hum.

The humming quickly became singing and Masako found herself surrounded by a dozen tiny voices, no longer thinking of ghosts. Even Yuri stood a step back from Masako, doing her best to sing her favorite song well. Masako smiled a true smile, touched by such a scene.

On the final verse there was movement across the room and John's figure filled the doorway. Perfectly quiet, as to blend with the children, he joined in their singing. Masako turned her smile toward him and she saw the smile in his eyes shining back.

When the last notes faded, Masako was quick to praise, “That's my favorite song now too.”

Then the children noticed John and there was an out cry for answers: why was he gone for so long? Was he fighting ghosts?

Masako couldn't help but lock eyes with John at this question, a significant look passing between them, before he assured them yet again that this was not the work of Christmas ghosts.

“Let there be light,” John declared, flipping the light switch nearest him. One of the main overhead lights blazed bright.

The children cheered and quickly they flipped the other switches.

“It was just a blown fuse,” he explained to Masako as she was finally released by Yuri. The little girl bounded off, all her energy returning.

Masako then turned her attention to cleaning (snacks and pillows scattered), her feet dancing around kids and the cat, as John packed up the projector.

“That was pretty amazing.”

Masako glanced up from sweeping popcorn off the floor, “Hm?”

“You. With the kids. You really did great calming them down. The singing was nice.”

Feeling strangely shy under John's warm approval, Masako waved the compliment right back,

“What about you? You got the lights on. Priest. Ghost Hunter, and Handy Man.”

John grinned,

“All in a days work.”

Once finished, John announced that there was a bedtime treat waiting for the children, courtesy of kind Hara-san, and then it was time for teeth brushing and bed.

There was more cheering at the mention of a treat and the children scrambled to follow John and Masako out to the kitchen, but then, as a group, stopped short suddenly.

Masako blinked and stared back at them, worry nagging at her, but someone giggled almost immediately.

“What is it?” John asked, giving the children a wondering look.

A dozen innocent fingers pointed up, above John and Masako's heads. Masako's eyes widened.

Mistletoe?

“You know we've been watching those movies,” a little girl spoke up, her hands holding her face prettily, “and they always have that stuff.”

“The girls wanted it,” a boy cut in, making a face, “that kissy stuff. They wanted to see if it worked.”

One of the girls elbowed the boy, protesting that it wasn't just their idea.

“It's called mistletoe,” John corrected patiently, his attention on the children, but Masako's stolen look showed her that John's cheeks were just as pink as hers were, “Where did you find it?”

“Sister Angela got it out of the attic for us after the last movie night,” Yuri answered with glee. Gone was the shy girl.

“Well it doesn't matter, does it? It's not working,” the boy from earlier spoke, jabbing his finger at John and Masako, “they didn't kiss.”

“That's not true,” Yuri protested, “this is the first time they're both under it. The Christmas Magic just hasn't kicked in yet.”

Christmas Magic...?

Several sets of eyes stared up at John and Masako-- some hopeful, some skeptical.

Why did the kids have to be so precious?

Why did they have to wish for something so impossible?

Realizing they had allowed the kids to runaway with such ideas too long, Masako opened her mouth, about to remind them all of the delicious treats just waiting in the next room...when John slowly turned and faced her.

Following his lead, Masako turned also-- searching for some sign of his master plan.

How were they going to get out of this and not ruin Christmas Magic for a dozen children?

If they weren't careful they were both about to become a couple of Scrooges.

But what Masako found as she studied John was only that his hair was more tousled than usual, still slightly wet from the snow that fallen on him on his trip to the fuse box, and that the blue Christmas sweater he was wearing (the one the kids had made him) really did match well with his eyes...

Those blue eyes bore straight into hers. Reading his expression, it seemed to say, if you can't beat them...

Masako's heart beat thickly.

So, there was the master plan. John had decided to humor the children.

Softie.

Anticipating a chaste kiss to the forehead or cheek, Masako played along, eyes fluttering shut, firmly ignoring the odd sensation of what felt like dancing butterflies in her stomach.

The floor board creaked and Masako was aware of John stepping into her space...bringing with him the scent of some holiday soap, and whatever that light cologne he always wore was.

Masako's did stomach did a flip.

Maybe it wasn't butterflies dancing...but sugar plum fairies?

Absently, Masako felt something brush by her legs, and then in the next instant-- something was pressed to her lips. It was soft and it...tickled?

Masako's eyes flew open.

Orange fur.

Masako blinked in surprise. She was staring at the resident church cat, held up by John, who's face hovered just inches away. John peered around the cat, catching her eye with his sparkling ones.

She hadn't kissed John, she had kissed Mittens. Genuine laughter escaped Masako's lips, her eyes sparkling back at John.

Uproarious noise burst out as the children joined in, hooting and hollering. She had kissed the cat! Was that how it was supposed to work?

Suddenly several hands were waving at John, simultaneously begging for Mittens and shooing he and Masako away from the doorway, “My turn, my turn! I want to try!”

Christmas Magic, ghosts, and bedtime treats were forgotten in the face of kitty kisses.

“I just love mistletoe, let's put it up every year!” Yuri declared as Mittens was dumped into her waiting arms.

No longer wanted, and with the children so happily preoccupied...John and Masako took this chance to quietly slip off to the kitchen, sharing in a Christmas cookie or two.

#ghost hunt #I hope you guys have a regular dentist #because this may give you cavities #xD #I hope you enjoy my Christmas gift to you!#the first of four!#I <3 my readers #GH Christmas 2019 #Hey Tayter Chips-- it's finally here!

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yuriyuruandyuraart · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! ^^ I Hope I’m not too late for this but Happy Birthday! 💜💛

I hope you have/had an amazing day and wish you LOOOTS of Love and kindness for life

I hope you Stay the way you are because your amazing an person, and only seeing a post of you makes my day better everytime!

And because of you always being so full of Love and happiness when interacting with others always gives me a welcoming feeling when I’m on your blog

I’m sorry I know we have never talked before and don’t really know each other either qwq (and I also apologize in case if I said anything wrongly ó-ò )

But anyway-

Happy Birthday Yuri! 💜💛

i am so so happy you think my blog has welcoming vibes!!! i always make sure to give twice the love you guys bring me but oh my god op??? you're so sweet???

gosh buddy thank you sO much!!! it means the world to me that i'm making at least one person's day a little brighter the same way y'all always do!!! i don't know about you guys but this is honestly all i can ask for to have a perfect bday like do you guys see how sweet you can get?? my dentist is about to get rich with the amount of sweetness you give me a taste of everyday!!

don't worry either you're not late i'm the one answering asks at a snails pace hhh xD

thank you a whole lot for passing by! (and no worries about being new-ish!! i would love to see you become a regular >:) <333)

#ask #other's art #my skelesona #yuso #goshhh and she looks so cute in your style i'm<33333 #really tho it warms my heart knowing i actually am approachable!!!#it's silly but i think the best blogs are the ones you feel comfy passing by and leaving an ask no biggie-#i am but a silly artist doing what she can here xD but thank you again for this!!!#amazing art #and thanks for passing by too!!! you sweet sweet bean<33333

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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title: yours always, Y/N Pairing: father!gojo satoru x fem!reader Genre: fluff, minor romance, mild angst ish?

Synopsis: “...afterall, when it comes to our child, they don’t need to be special or great. The very fact that our baby was born into this world, makes me grateful and happier than anyone else in the planet.”

Warnings: none...i guess...

Notes: idk bro just got in the mood to write something short and got inspired by carla jaegers words about eren in aot foq, hope yall love it. I just noticed i reached 1k tbh i dont know when but thanks guys ahhh, ill probably release a jjk sukuna short series after i finish the requests for the 900 milestone and my exams and requirements this week (sorry hayahh i swear school and college just wants to murder me dont worry, the requests are going to be done soon), thanks for the patience ily all and stay safe and hydrated!

masterlist , taglist

toru,

I’m elated.

Gojo Satoru stares at the night light of angels dancing across the ceiling, the baby on the crib is fast asleep and undisturbed by her father’s nearby presence as she calmly breathes in and out. Despite his senses heightened, his mind was seemingly on the words that kept repeating on his head like a broken record.

We’re finally going to be blessed with a child. Can you believe it? Our own little angel. The minute I found out about it, I didn’t know how I should tell you at first. Despite us trying a few times, the idea haunted us because of our jobs.

The white haired male shuts his eyes briefly as he tries to recall a fond memory of you breaking the news to him.

But it took a turn for the better! You were so excited and you were at my beck and call and even got us a cozy home, hidden from all your adversaries.

The baby’s cries snapped him out of his daze, it seemed like she needed a little snack or she was probably like him, always wanting attention from loved ones.

He inwardly chuckles as he reminisced early times before you both had Kira, how clingy and touchy he’d be towards you and how easily annoyed you’d get. It took quite the turn when you got pregnant, this time, you were the one that got clingier and even more touchy when his little angel was still a little fetus.

I wonder if they’ll look as angelic as you? My, you’ll definitely be having competition. I’d dote over them a lot more than you. Hopefully if they do get your looks, they won’t get your sweet tooth. I’m not fond of being a regular at the dentist and saying no to our baby.

Picking the small infant and placing it on his arms as he softly patted her back and hum the soft tune that you always sang to him after a long day. Kira starts to calm down as he lulls her. The soft cries of the child soon then turn to coo’s, “Seems like you just wanted otosan’s attention, huh?” he mumbled.

You know, when they ask me if our baby was going to be as great as you, I could only muster out a small laugh by how absurd that sounded. I hope you agree with me on this but our little child doesn’t need to be as special or as great as you.

Afterall, when it comes to our child, they don't need to be special or great. The very fact that our baby was born into this world, makes me grateful and happier than anyone else on the planet.

Satoru keeps rocking her slowly to the point where he doesn’t even notice the small tear escaping his eyes.

I hope you love our baby as much as you love me.

I know how selfish it sounds, Toru but you’ll have to promise me that no matter what happens. It’ll always be our baby.

Our beautiful sweet angel.

“Okaasan loves you,” he softly whispers as the child slowly starts to close her eyes again, “and I love you, very, very much.”

He kisses her twice on the forehead, one kiss from him and another for the mother that she’ll never get to meet.

It’s a quiet night and once again, he reminds himself that things will look up and the sun will shine on him and the angel on his arms again.

Yours always, Y/N

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi

#gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #saturo x y/n

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twstarchives · 4 years ago

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Trey Clover・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Star Send-Off Garments Event Card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “It’s important that you be cooperative if you want to get comfortable with this school. There’s no harm in listening to what the vice dorm leader says, don’t you think?”

Groovy “Watching you brings me back to when I was a new student.”

Home Setting “How are you feeling?”

Home Transitions “Something smells sweet? ...Oh, I baked a cake earlier. There might be some left if you run to the lounge right now.”

“Don’t Ace and Deuce ever annoy you? They’re not bad people, but they’re definitely an exhausting set of juniors.”

“Hahaha, it feels like you’re still nervous wearing your uniform. What? That’s not a bad thing. It’s innocent and endearing.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Hey, are you done with your classes for today? Don’t get too wild and bother the teachers, alright?”

Home Taps “Riddle has always stood out, ever since the moment he arrived here. It caused a huge fuss when he became dorm leader.”

“It’s important to study, but you’ll get nothing out of it if you work so hard that you make yourself sick. Taking it slow is the best thing you can do.”

“You should get dental exams just as often as your regular check-ups. Should I refer you to a recommended dentist?”

“If you want to know how to get along with your classmates, go ask Cater. He’s got a lot of friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a little busy right now; could we do this later?”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Well, ‘easy does it,’ right? Getting too carried away isn’t a good thing.”

Groovy “You’re challenging me to a game of magift? Haha, alright. I’ll let you have a head start.”

Home Setting “Are you done warming up?”

Home Transitions “Ow... While we were in the middle of stretching, Lilia pushed my back down as hard as he could... I even told him to be gentle.”

“It’s really important that you exercise every once in a while and not just stay cooped up in your room. Well, I do understand not feeling up for it.”

“My glasses always get in the way when I’m playing sports... Maybe I should try contacts some time?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m really not that fond of exercising... But, I’m not necessarily bad at it.”

Home Taps “I used to play soccer a lot in the past. My parents were always really insistent that ‘You need to be strong for making sweets!’”

“Coach Vargas kept yelling ‘Show me what you’ve really got!’ at me today. I wasn’t exactly trying not to put in effort, though.”

“Cater was very insistent that I tell him how to grow taller. I told him that I didn’t really know, but he’s not the type to take no for an answer.”

“I agree that Flying is an important course to take, but the truth is, I don’t like it that much... Keep that between us, alright?”

“Since you seem to have so much energy today, could you go buy some things for me?”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “This kind of work is more my speed. No need to worry; let me handle things.”

Groovy “Work steadily and carefully. That’s important for both when you’re experimenting and when you’re cooking.”

Home Setting “What do you want me to make?”

Home Transitions “Have you gotten used to our school yet? You won’t exactly find a library or a botanical garden as big as the ones we have anywhere else.”

“They grow herbs and fruits that are kind of unusual in the Botanical Garden. Don’t go around carelessly touching them, alright? It’d be dangerous if one turned out to be poisonous.”

“Deuce was begging on his knees for me to help him with his work... I have to applaud him for that enthusiasm.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Why don’t you stop by the science club if you’ve got the time? I think Rook would be happy to see you too.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “I made caramel yesterday with some leftover ingredients I had. Would you like some? I have so much.”

Home Taps “I like chemistry. It’s a lot more time-consuming than magic, but in turn the satisfaction you feel when you see the reactions is much stronger.”

“Err, where did I put my glasses... Oh, here they are. I’ve been misplacing them a lot lately.”

“Professor Crewel is sort of... intense, but his teaching style is very thorough. He helps us a lot with our club.”

“Cooking is one of the science club activities too. It counts as a type of chemistry, doesn’t it?”

“If you honestly just can’t sit still for a few minutes, I’m worried about how you’ll be in the future.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Watching you guys reminds me of my little siblings. They were always causing a racket; I never knew how to manage them. Hahaha.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “If you don’t want to lose your head, then behave during the ceremony, alright?”

Groovy “C’mon, are you sure you should be here right now? You’ll be in trouble if you’re late to the ceremony.”

Home Setting “Let’s hope nothing bad happens today...”

Home Transitions “What? Ace was trying to ditch the ceremony? ...I see. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Should you be wandering around by yourself here? We’re relying on you to look after Grim, Prefect.”

“You want to take my picture? I’m not that comfortable with things like this... Cater, on the other hand, would be thrilled to take one with you.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Alright, there’s a lot I need to get done today. Come let me know if you’d like to help out with anything.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Standing in the Ramshackle Dorm in your ceremony robes is definitely... an interesting sight.”

Home Taps “I know people have conflicting opinions on this, but I don’t think there’s a more fitting dorm leader for Heartslabyul than Riddle.”

“Lilia seems so bombarded with work on ceremony days. Being Diasomnia’s vice dorm leader must be rough.”

“The Headmaster takes very good care of the apple tree in the courtyard. That reminds me, which do you like better: apple pie or tarte tatin?”

“I don’t know how I ended up with Cater; it just happened. When I’m with him, I don’t have to be careful about anything—it’s very comfortable.”

“It’s for your own good that you stay obedient during the ceremony. It’ll drag on forever if you make the Headmaster angry.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Riddle has everything put together, so there’s not really anything for me to do as the vice dorm leader. I’m kind of like a decoration.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “I was in the middle of painting the roses, but... I guess I can’t turn you away if you need something.”

“The preparations for our parties must always be perfect. But don’t worry about it; I’ll handle everything.”

Groovy “It’s stressful having so many difficult people around. Make sure that you be good, alright?”

Home Setting “There’s nothing better than wearing clothes you’re comfortable in.”

Home Transitions “Here’s a chew toy so that Grim can clean his teeth... ow, ow, ow! Alright, I’m sorry! I get it—he can brush his own teeth!”

“Cater, I swear. He ran out on his flamingo feeding duty again. I have to admit, that silver tongue of his really is impressive.”

“Not a single rose can be overlooked while we prepare for our tea parties. They can’t be pink, green, or aquamarine; they all have to be red.” ¹

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Tea parties and croquet matches are both special, traditional events in Heartslabyul. As the vice dorm leader, I have to work hard for them.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Are you coming to our next Unbirthday Party? I’d like to hear your opinion on a new tart I’ll be making.”

Home Taps “The fireworks we use for the Unbirthday Parties are... What? Isn’t it obvious that we’ll be ending the party with fireworks?”

“‘Why aren’t our rose corsages painted all the way?’ It’s supposed to represent the moral that ‘You must not forget to double-check everything.’”

“I like hats, so I have several of them. This is a special one I had custom-made to match our dorm uniform.”

“Riddle and Cater are both so demanding when it comes to decorating the tables. Who do they think is the one who has to do it all...?”

“Oh, I know we’re supposed to have our buttons done, but... My bad; I’m out of uniform.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “‘When do I get mad’? It’s true, I guess it doesn’t happen very often... But isn’t that a good thing? It’s not like you want to see me that way, right?”

Duo Magic Trey: Sometimes we gotta show everyone our senior pride, Cater! Cater: Anytime’s fine by me, Trey! ♪

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Trey’s birthday event (Oct 23 - Oct 29, 2020).

Login on Birthday “Haha, I’m kind of getting embarrassed. Thank you. According to the rules of the Queen of Hearts, you’re allowed to be selfish about anything on your birthday. So what should I ask you to do...? Oi oi, don’t get so tense. Wasn’t it obvious I was joking?”

Unlock Card “I’m glad that you’re all celebrating for me, but I think I’m better suited for being on the party planning side.”

“Today’s my birthday, huh...? I’d want to spend it as quietly as I can, but that’s impossible knowing this school. Honestly...”

Groovy “It’s actually kind of nice seeing you celebrate for me so passionately. I had fun thanks to you.”

Home Setting “I feel like this outfit makes me look like a birthday cake.”

Home Transitions “When you eat sweets at a party, make sure to brush your teeth thoroughly that night. That’s not one of the Queen’s rules, but I recommend it.”

“I used to bake the cakes for my little siblings’ birthdays when I was back home. I would burn them a lot when I first started making them.”

“Rook gave me a hat with a posh feather in it. ...What outfit would go well with this?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “You remembered my birthday? Thank you. Let’s enjoy the party without going too over-the-top.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Now, since it’s my birthday, what should I ask you to do...? Don’t get so tense; I’m just joking. Just wishing me a happy birthday is enough.”

Home Taps “Cater and Riddle told me that I’m banned from entering the kitchen today. Am I really that predictable?”

“Lilia from my class told me that he used to get excited for his first 50 birthdays, too... What a weird joke.”

“Ace and Deuce asked me what I wanted for my birthday... and so I told them ‘juniors who actually listen to their seniors.’”

“Earlier, Chenya randomly showed up, said nothing but ‘Happy birthday,’ and vanished. He’s always so unpredictable.”

“This brooch’s design looks like rose vines in the shape of a club. Do you want to see? I could take it off and show you.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I drink my favorite tea every year on my birthday. If you’d like, I could pour you a cup too.”

Duo Magic Trey: Oh, you came to celebrate too, Ace? Ace: As always, thank you, Trey!

Tutorial “We have to go soon. Or we’ll lose our heads.”

Lv Up “Haha, leaning on others for help sometimes is nice.”

“This wouldn’t have happened without you working so hard with me.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling really confident about this.”

Max Lv Up “I don’t want to let my juniors see the sides of myself I’m not proud of. That’s why I tried so hard.”

Episode Lv Up “I have a lot fun being with you. ...Hm? ‘That sounds like a lie’? What could I say to make you believe me?”

Magic Lv Up “My magic has gotten stronger than it was before. This is the result of the intensive training we’ve done together.”

Limit Break “I know this doesn’t sound like me, but... I want to try seeing how far I can go. Would you like to join me?”

Groovy “I’m happy to know even I still have room for improvement.”

Lesson Select “You seem kind of sleepy. I won’t wake you up if you fall asleep in the middle of class.”

“It’d be nice if our first-years here were just as dedicated to their studies as you are...”

“My best subject? I guess I’d have to say Alchemy... but I’m pretty average with everything.”

Lesson Start “Alright, time to focus.”

Lesson End “Good job today; let’s keep this up next time.”

Battle Start “I don’t really want to have to get violent...”

Battle End “I’m not that good at getting fired up about things.”

Other

Profile Quote “Sorry, but would you mind helping me paint the roses red?”

January 2020 Trailer “Whoa there! Be careful not to plant any white roses by mistake.”

Countdown Poster “Perfect timing! Would you mind helping me paint the roses red?”

Player Birthday Wish “Happy birthday. I went all out baking a special birthday cake for today. Now, what exactly is ‘special’ about it... you’ll see once you eat it. Everyone’s waiting for us. Let’s go.”

Valentine’s Gift Letter (2021)

These letters were originally in English. I didn’t translate or edit them in any way. They came with official merch from Aniplex, and are not present in-game.

Hey you, Thanks for the gift. I didn’t expect anything from you, so you kind of surprised me. Now what should I give in return… I don’t want to give you something you don’t like, so please tell me: Is there anything you want? If there is, I’ll try to find it for you! Hope you have a great one!

1. They can’t be pink, green, or aquamarine

This references a line from “Painting the Roses Red”

#twisted wonderland #trey clover #voice lines

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kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 11: Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day. Which was actually what's happening. So there we were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses. Percy and I walked side by side with our hand still connected. Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything." "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed? I was not going to leave Y/N." "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine." "Shut up, goat boy," I said. Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans." We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave." "We're a team, right?" She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. Do you want to see?

Yeah that would be nice.

It was as if it was morning, I could see everything clearly. I wandered my head to make sure I could see everything. This is cool. "You okay?" Percy asked. "Yeah," Not really a fan of the current silence I turned to Annabeth. "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her. "No... only short field trips. My dad—" "The history professor." "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said. "You think so?" "Yeah maybe you can teach me some tricks. "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me." Percy smiled. I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled. "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Something funny back on the but..." Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Seeing a tree coming up I tried to pull Percy to avoid it but Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. I suppressed my laugh by covering my mouth which made Percy glare at me. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This kid needed a double cheeseburger. >We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. "What the heck does that say?" I asked. "I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken. I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey..." Grover warned. "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open." "Snack bar," I said wistfully. "Snack bar," Percy agreed. "Snack bar," Annabeth joined. "Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird." We ignored him. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps. "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters." I turned to look at my knife. It had a light glow emitting from it. Probably because it was sheathed. "I think there's monsters." I was now reluctant and sided with Grover. "Grover's nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?" "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.. "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

"Percy, I don't think---"

"It'll be fine." Percy took my hand and went in. Be careful and don't look. Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady. >Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" "They're... um..." Annabeth started to say. "We're orphans," I said. "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!" "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area. We thanked her and went inside. Annabeth muttered to Percy, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" "Your head is full of kelp." The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. I was anxious so I tighten my grip on Percy. It's stupid for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because we were hungry. For a child of Athena, Annabeth sure isn't making wise decisions. I mean yeah I agree, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away. But Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, to add the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us. Made me more cautious. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said "Awesome," Percy said. "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am." Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans." "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said. Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, I had to turn to Annabeth to check if there was something wrong with her.. Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child." I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. "Percy, I want to leave..." I whispered. "Just a few bites Y/N. Don't worry." He gave me a reassuring pat. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries. I wasn't gulfing down my food like Percy was. Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Annabeth slurped her shake. "What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover." "I take vitamins. For my ears." "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax." I don't like it here. I'm scared. Be wary of all things. Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested. "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know." "A lot of business on this road?" "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified."Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face." "You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked. "Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price." Annabeth gave me a look of worry. I knew she realized something. "Percy?" I shook him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go." "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?" "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily. "A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" "Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?" "Percy, I don't want to..." "It's just a photo guys." "Indeed it is just a photo Y/N," the woman purred. "No harm." I could tell Annabeth didn't like it as well, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." "Not much light for a photo," I remarked. But joke's on her I could see quite clearly. Don't look. "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?" "Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?" Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands. "Percy—" Annabeth said. "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...." "Percy, something's wrong," I insisted. "Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?" "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped. DON'T LOOK. Annabeth turned to my direction, "Look away from her!" she then shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and and I pulled Percy with me. We were on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. "Percy, we have to move!" I shook him. But he was too dazed to move. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails. Percy was about to look higher then her hands and I instinctively covered his eyes. "Don't look!" More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be. "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers. "Percy we have to move please!" "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up." "Percy please!" Percy pushed my hand away and looked to one side. I turned to look as well and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." How did Medusa die in the myth? But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face. "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this." "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Y/N carry Percy!" "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer. We won't even hurt, Y/N." I swung Percy's arm around my shoulder. But he was too heavy. "No," he muttered trying to make his legs move... "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." "Y/N!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!" I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone. "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!" I tackled Percy to the other side. Thwack! Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!" "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Pulling along an out of a dazed Percy we scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack! "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N! Percy!" Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!" Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off." "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here." "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance." "What? I can't—" "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster. Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—" "Would you speak English?" "I am!" She tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly." "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!" "Roooaaarrr!" "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch. "Hurry," Annabeth told him. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide showed. He turned to me and gave the glass then offered a hand. "Percy you can't be seriously bring her along!?" "I'll go with him." Taking his hand, we followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I raised the glass so I could guide us. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" We advanced on her. I had let go of Percy's hand to bring out my knife. So if she charged, I could help Percy. But she let us approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse. "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I could tell he hesitated. From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!" Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at him with her talons. I ran and raised my knife to block her talons, Percy then swung his sword, then we heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. "Oh, yuck," Percy said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to us, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." >Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling. "Yeah," I decided. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head. "The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. "I didn't know Grover got Luke's shoes." Percy recapped his sword. "I can't fly." He shrugged. Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak. Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him." "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'" "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible." "You're insufferable." "You're—" "You're both loud and stupid." I growled. "Yeah!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?" I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice. What had Medusa said? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Percy and I shared a look. We got up. "I'll be back." "Percy, Y/N," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—" We searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. "Found one." Percy called. We went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip: The Gods >Mount Olympus 600th Floor, >Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON <3 Y/N L/N "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent." I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! "I am impertinent," Percy said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that we had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Great, well Fred and George," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

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UwU bb I'm just licherali rippin off now srry -kookie-doughs

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Lightning thief #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #Fanfiction #fanfictions #X Reader #Chapter 11 #Book 1

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sunkissedpages · 5 years ago

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breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless.

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end.

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes.

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside.

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head.

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that... you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them.

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck.

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe?

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see.

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out.

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.”

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious.

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain.

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out.

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat.

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t.

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them.

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it.

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible.

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road.

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers.

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast.

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!”

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle.

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board.

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.”

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in.

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed.

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach.

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather.

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way.

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off.

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland.

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning.

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state.

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit.

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour.

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Hello there, I see you're back on blue-line drabbles! I love them, I am obsessed with this universe. I don't know if I ever came back to say hi after I read all your big fics, but somehow I liked each even better than the last! I don't know how that's possible! But anyway, I think one of the best signs of a good writer/good story is when you're not ready to leave the world once you've finished, and Blue Line is one of the few fanfics I've read where even well after I've finished it, (cont)

(cont) I want to keep living in it and I end up writing my own fic of it in my head (strange, I know). Anyway, for whatever reason, I got really invested in Roland and Lizzie's relationship. Like, how did they end up dating after knowing each other for literally Lizzie's entire life? How did the adults react? Do you have any Lizzie/Roland stories up your sleeve? They would not go unread :)

————

Hello, yes, listen, this ask has lived rent free™ in my head since I first got it and I cannot properly convey how absolutely, goddamn wonderful it is. I am a broken record of outdated references , but it continues and will always amaze me that people are not only interested in Blue Line (more than three years!!! after I originally started posting) but are also interested in other characters in the story who are, for all intents and purposes, original characters at this point. Like the overall size my heart becomes when reading something like that could potentially cause a serious medical condition.

But, like, in a nice way.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. It genuinely warms the cockles of my entire soul. And, like, if you wanna share those fic ideas of the fic, you’ll never hear me say no. Just like I will never turn down the opportunity to write more stuff. Which is what’s under the cut. This stuff includes:

Roland and Lizzie’s first kiss, what I hope is some legitimate banter, more kissing, obvious flirting, and Roland being something of a sap.

Also, uh, it’s entirely possible that I have also already written: Roland and Lizzie’s first “I love you,” their wedding and some other stuff where their kid is involved. Seriously, guys, I am always down to write other relationships in this ‘verse.

————

It was, she figured, something almost passably close to, sort of resembling, definitely inching somewhere nearer to—

Assured.

Unavoidable.

Inexorable

Inevitable.

That was a bad word. That last word. The third one was pretty impressive, honestly. Vocabulary, wise. She’d have to remember that one later. The last one, though. Made teeth Lizzie wasn’t even aware she possessed ache as she ground them together, a pronounced tension in her jaw that was likely affecting her shoulders as well. That word. An awful word. Boasted less-than-positive connotations, letters practically dripping with lack of self-control and overtly aggressive infatuation, but if the world expected her not to be a little in love with Roland Locksley by the time she turned fourteen and noticed that slight indentation in his right cheek every time he smiled, well, then the world had another thing coming.

Dimple, that was the appropriate description. Another word. More words. Too many words. All of them bouncing off the slope of her skull and scratching at the back of her brain, nearly distracting her from what should have been the very pleasant buzz lingering beneath whatever biological thing made up her top and bottom lips.

Which were parted in an emotion very similar to overwhelming surprise.

That was stupid.

The whole thing was stupid. God, maybe she was stupid. No, that wasn’t true. She’d made Dean’s List last semester. Stupid was—

A stupid word, really. Despite the blush rising in her cheeks and the wide eyes practically boring into her soul, bated breath that didn’t make any noise because that was what bated entailed, and no one else glanced in their direction. Not once. No one else noticed.

That the whole world had flipped upside down.

Or right-side-up, maybe. Depending on how the next five minutes or so went.

Because the last two minutes and twelve seconds, give or take, had seen Roland Locksley tilt his head and let his eyes flutter closed before his mouth found hers for the very first time — at midnight for God’s sake. On New Year’s Eve. Or New Year’s Day, she supposed. His parents were standing on the other side of the room.

Suggesting that Lizzie had ever been just a little in love with Roland was a rather monumental lie.

As far as those things went.

“So, uh—” she started, only to find blood in her mouth. From her teeth. Wayward and unpredictable, as they were. Biting down on the side of her tongue and Lizzie hated going to the dentist. Doing irreparable damage to her teeth on what was now legitimately New Year’s Day, in the middle of an annual party, was not on her schedule.

Metaphorical as it might have been.

She liked schedules. Had plans. Focus, even. People always said that about her — how focused she was, liked to throw around the word drive with startling regularity, as if they were amazed she wasn’t simply willing to rest on her laurels or the pair of last names she proudly toted around with her. As if Lizzie expected doors to swing open on a glance.

Rather than consistently preparing herself to knock them down.

She liked the challenge of it all. Appreciated the way disbelief always spiked something in her blood, and that was likely equal parts genetic predisposition and a product of her childhood, but right now, Lizzie was simply prepared to fight for the schedule she’d never allowed herself to mention to anyone else before and it wasn’t like they weren’t friends.

Talked outside the group chat, even.

That meant something. Definitely meant something. Had to mean something. Her lips felt like they’d been doused in liquid nitrogen.

She didn’t know all the scientific properties of liquid nitrogen, but it always made that rather impressive cloud of steam-type stuff on cooking shows. So, it seemed very likely that it did something similar to cause whatever was happening in the region directly surrounding her mouth. Buzzing and tingling, and whatnot.

When had Roland last blinked? Lizzie couldn’t remember. That would have been impressive in any other situation. Right now, it was sort, kind of, totally— Pissing her off.

Color dotted his cheeks, no sign of the goddamn dimple because he wasn’t smiling, presumably couldn’t do that when it was clear he was so intent on pulling his lips into his mouth, and that felt a little insulting. Her tongue had just been in that mouth.

Lizzie was fairly confident in the abilities of her tongue, so she wasn’t all that pleased to be replaced by a pair of lips that could have been doing much better work against the side of her neck.

“If you sit here right now and tell me that you are,” Lizzie lifted a finger, “one, sorry,” another finger, “two, anything even remotely resembling regretful,” another finger, wiggling close enough to Roland’s nose to make him just a bit cross-eyed, “or, three, too old for me, I will throw my heel at that bruise I know exists on the back of your left calf.”

His lips twitched.

He really had impossible eyelashes. Seemingly made so he could glance up from underneath them, to meet Lizzie’s steely expression with what she refused to believe could be cautious hope. Passable optimism, maybe. She’d have to look up what liquid nitrogen did, later.

“I’m standing.” “I hate you.”

“You wanna go in order, or how do you want to work this?” “Where else are you bruised?” Roland laughed softly, a shift of his shoulders and tiny burst of air between barely parted lips. Feeling that tiny burst meant they were standing very close to each other. How they were standing remained another mystery.

One of those great ones, Lizzie figured. The kind referenced when people talked about the sweeping potential of life and love and— Ah, fuck.

“Please don’t threaten to attack me anywhere else,” he muttered, before quickly adding, “you gotta know this was not my end game, Liza.” Narrowing her eyes did nothing to temper the…tempest. Swirling in her gut. Threatening the back of her throat. Eating away at vocal cords and vocal boxes and the structural integrity of her entire goddamn larynx. Possibly her tongue, too, just to be especially efficient.

“Really? Might’a been mine, actually.”

She’d always liked his eyes.

How they could widen, and it wasn’t like...a normal brown. Nothing about the way he looked was ever dull. Drifted toward regularly excited, and the sparkles were probably a figment of her over-active teenage imagination, but Lizzie liked to think sometimes the sparkle came from her. Because of her, even. When she’d call because he always wanted to hear about her latest lecture and he’d call because sometimes Western swings were exhausting and loneliness-inducing and—

She knew.

He knew.

They knew each other.

Grand scheme, the sparkle-prone eyes still weren’t particularly close to the dimple. On the list of things Lizzie liked. What left butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart hammering against her chest. Sparkle was probably a solid fourth. Behind the precise way his curls fell toward his eyebrows when he didn’t have time to get his hair cut. Which rarely happened during the season. Right now, it was happening right now. Well-defined strands that Lizzie knew felt even smoother than she’d ever theorized between her fingers, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that information.

Obsess over it, probably.

For at least the next week, or so.

Still. Eyes. Eyelashes. Too long and too bright, and that was the wrong description order and she was starting to teeter. On the edge of a rather dramatic free-fall. Into feelings and possibility, and this was way too dramatic. For both of them.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled, a scrunch of her nose that apparently demanded his thumb. Brushing against the bridge, and there wasn’t any caution there. No obvious fear or concern. For the way it left Lizzie’s lungs pinched, and there must have been a limit.

To everything her internal organs could cope with in a limited span of time.

“What was the last one on the list?” She swallowed. “Too old.” “Yuh-huh.” “Pretty flimsy as far as excuses go. You realize I’m not asking you to marry me right now, right?” He choked. On what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Only that it made her stomach heave and her teeth dig into her lower lip, and that was— “Because I know I said, end game,” Lizzie continued, giving in to the need to fill empty space with the sound of her own voice, “but that sounds like several pop culture references all at once, and you know how much I—”

“Hate to come across as disingenuous.” “Mattie’s the pop culture reference machine, anyway.” “Please don’t talk about Matt when I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you again.” Her eyes, that time. Widened. Bugged. Did something unnatural. “Yeah?” “You’re kidding me, right?” “You’re not an old man.” Rolling his eyes, Roland’s tongue dragged across the front of his teeth. To torture her, apparently. “I was in college when you were a freshman in high school.” “Yuh-huh.” “Liza.” “Nah, nah,” Lizzie shook her head. Crossed her arms. Tried to stand up to her full height, but even the heels didn’t do much to add to the overall intimidation factor. Roland was doing an awful job of fighting off his smile. “Pulling out ancient nicknames is not—” “—It’s not a nickname; it’s literally letters in your name.” “Nick,” she leaned forward, “name. All personal-like.”

Making mistakes was not something she enjoyed very much. It was that Jones competitive streak. Plus, the Vankald stubborn streak. Created a monster of determination, who knew what she wanted, and feeling Roland’s fingers graze her cheek as a strand of hair hung limply in the minimal space between them was the result of Lizzie’s mistaken movement.

Even as much as she might have wanted it.

Goosebumps prickled her arms. Stole whatever oxygen she’d managed to get in the last forty-six seconds, or so. Her eyes fluttered. Head tilted. Towards the touch and the warmth, and for someone who spent so much time on the ice, he really was impossibly warm.

“This is your fault.”

He didn’t move his fingers. Cupped her cheek, instead. “You were doing that eyebrow thing.” “Expand on that for me.” “Lifting ‘em. Happens sometimes. When you’re listening intently. Like you’re a little amazed by new information. They’re these stupid little arches on your face. Drives me nuts.” “The compliment was in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.” “I am so much older than you, Liza.” “Shouldn’t’a played out a bunch of teenage daydreams at once, then.” She was legitimately worried about the state of his tongue. Barely biting back her laugh, Lizzie let her eyes lift. To find Roland gaping at her, drooped shoulders and puppy-dog eyes. And that goddamn dimple. “C’mon, this isn’t...do you think I haven’t made out with people before?” “Wouldn’t classify what we just did as a makeout.” “No?” His eyes darkened. Shivering was probably not a good move, right? Right. Definitely. She wasn’t shivering. It was just...January. And inside. With dozens of people around them. “I would not, no,” Roland said, and the drop in overall volume was some sort of trick. Or, something.

“How many people do you think you’ve made out with? Ballpark it for me.” “No.” “Is the issue a lack of appropriate numbers to tally that mark, or—” She bit her tongue, again. At the flash of amused frustration sweeping his face and polluting the molecules of whatever air was hovering between them. Permeating was a better word. Lizzie really needed to work on all of that. Words. Being slightly less jealous of potential make outs that didn’t have anything to do with her and definitely happened because there had to be other people out there in the world who simply could not cope with the existence of that dimple.

“How many people have you made out with, then?” “Scores,” Lizzie snarled, only to get immediately scoffed at. “I’m really, incredibly popular.” “Oh, I’ve got no doubt.” “Boatloads of guys. Lining up to,” she pointed an imperious finger at her mouth, “make out with this.” “Your well-defined chin?” “I’m going to take my shoe off.” “Draw attention with a move like that.” Whatever fight she had didn’t immediately die. It just, sort of, fell. At her feet, threatening all the bones there and there were too many. All of them far too fragile. For whatever metaphor she was running with at the moment. “And we’re not trying to do that, huh? Draw attention.” “Shouldn’t you be out sowing wild oats?” “Really know how to charm a girl,” she grumbled, and that got her a smile. No scoff. Not even the hint of a smile. The whiplash was hurting her neck. “Trust me, the oats have appropriately sowed. If I was ever particularly inclined to farm work.” “I’m starting to be vaguely embarrassed by all of this.” “Good.” Wasn’t quite a scoff. Was more like a half-hearted laugh, and a tinge of desire and that was better than the other emotions, but the decreasing level of Roland’s eyebrows gave her pause. “What about the status of your oats?”

“Well sowed, rookie season,” Roland said.

“You’re going to change the name on your jersey.” “Not sure that particular fact has a lot to do with anything else. Seven years, Liza.” “I’m perfectly capable of doing math, you know I took that stats class once.” “Because I double checked everything you turned in.” “Makes you slightly less of an idiot than the vibe you're giving off right now.” “A freeway or compliments.” Pulling in a deep inhale through her nose, Lizzie didn’t miss the way Roland’s gaze fell. To the neckline of her dress, lingering on the jut of her collarbones for a few seconds longer than a strictly platonic friendship should allow, and they were friends. Still. She knew that as well as she knew that he believed she thought he was simply being clever with nicknames.

And not making vaguely incorrect My Fair Lady references.

Because he’d always been a little annoyed that Eliza had gone back to Henry Higgins. Instead of Freddie.

It was really impossible not to be a little in love with him at all times.

“You’re really going to hyphenate?” Roland nodded. “Think of all the new jerseys they’ll sell.” “By the box-load, and Gina’s gonna buy the entire stock. She’s—that’s really nice, you know.” “Just a fact. Little late, but—” He shrugged. Lizzie’s smile threatened to split her face. In that same nice way, she’d been talking about. Her lips were still buzzing. She might have been buzzing. With adrenaline. Happiness. The near-desperate desire to find some type of closet and get her fingers back in Roland’s questionably long hair.

“Of naming conventions.” She couldn’t begin to guess what the record was for shoulder shifts in an emotionally charged conversation between two people who were simultaneously ignoring the point of the conversation, but Lizzie also knew her eyebrows had been halfway up her face as he’d detailed the reasons for making his jersey say Mills-Locksley. From here on out.

Maybe that was the top of the list, actually.

He was a good guy.

Had always been a good guy. The best guy, really.

Falling into that chasm wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Lizzie expected it to be.

“Why’d you do it?” Roland’s lips disappeared. His tongue moved, again. She was staring at the area around his tongue. So, like, his mouth. Directly at his mouth. “Because, I uh—have wanted to?” “Oh, don’t phrase that like a question.” “Wanted to,” he repeated, a statement of fact with a certain amount of conviction. Enough to make Lizzie’s pulse sputter. “Which is kind of freaking me out.” “Come back with more compliments.” “Your dress nearly made me fall over.” “Better, actually,” she laughed.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Made sense at the time.” “Be more specific.” “Kissing you,” Roland said, enough emphasis that he leaned forward half an inch as well. It was a miracle their noses didn’t collide. Not the most impressive miracle, but—counted. “If I tell you that you might be my best friend does that make the lamest professional hockey player alive?” “Yes, absolutely.” “Matt might challenge you to a duel if he hears me talking like this, you know.” “God, Locksley, didn’t we just talk about the Mattie rules? Also, that made it sound like Mattie wants to kiss you too, so...”

He chuckled. Fingers still tugging on the back of his hair, like he was trying to ground himself in the pull and the self-inflicted tension, Roland looked up. Back at her. And Lizzie didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Held her position and prepared herself to defend the schedule she’d only ever allowed herself to hope for in the silence of that one corner in her brain.

Filled, as it was, with memories. Of conversations that didn’t have anything to do with hockey. Others that did. Arguing over blue line placement in the brownstone and college rankings. Of movies watched on two different laptops in different corners of the country, bad jokes, and consistent updates, that deep-rooted understanding that came from a life full of expectations and the exact opposite. No overt pressure, but the need to prove yourself anyway, if only because of the name on the back of the jersey, and Lizzie was going to have to buy a new jersey.

“You like me? Yes, or no?” Roland smiled. Wide and honest, the kind that ensured the dimple was on prominent display. “Yes.” “I am a grown adult? Yes, or no?” Crinkles appeared around his eyes. From the smile.

“Yes.” “Meaning I get to make my own choices. Romantically, or otherwise. Yes, or no?” “Obviously.” “Wasn’t one of the options.” “Yes,” Roland corrected, fingers trailing over the bend of her elbow. Lizzie hadn’t uncrossed her arms. Or remembered when she’d crossed them in the first place.

“Ok, good. Same page, then.” “Liza.” “Locksley.” Lifting her eyebrows wasn’t a challenge, per se. Was closer to instinct, really. Specifics didn’t matter, honestly. She did that thing with her eyebrows, and he did that thing with his mouth, the same one she was staring at and hoping would move closer to her, and then—

Well, it did.

Hands found Lizzie’s hips, pulling her forward sharply enough that she let out a soft grunt. From the feel of hips bumping against hers, and she honestly wasn’t sure who hissed in their next inhale, only that it did something to the flutter-like state of her pulse and the erratic nature of her heart, and it was slow and fast and good and great and not a single person noticed.

Miracles were arriving en masse, apparently.

Pushing her fingers into Roland’s hair got Lizzie another hum of approval, the first brush of his tongue making her lips part and her head fall to the side, but then his hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and she could not be expected to pay attention to anything except the semi-consistent swipe of his thumb against her skin. It left more goosebumps. Caused another chuckle, the kind that rumbled through her and resonated around her, a tiny bubble of that same cautious optimism from before.

Like a spark.

Fanning flames and threatening to burn everything because if this didn’t work, then Lizzie wasn’t sure what would, and that was scary and overwhelming and terrifying was a synonym, but she really was working with very limited word-based resources when Roland’s thumb kept moving. Tracing her. Committing the feel to memory, and she wasn’t sure when they’d established the rocking pattern they were moving in, but something deep in the center of her trusted it.

Someone who regularly strapped knives to his feet and raced around at top speed knew how to stay balanced. And she was a stubborn idiot. Who got what she wanted.

“Is part of liking me because I told you I didn’t think it was embarrassing that you still got a little emotional about Miracle on 34th Street?” Laughter pushed past her lips. Took root in the pit of her stomach and the spaces between her ribs. Laced through her heart. In the kind of way that cemented itself. Right in the middle of Lizzie. Right in the middle of this. Them.

There was a them, now.

“Was definitely a factor, yeah,” Roland said, not bothering to pull away. “You, uh—you snuck up on me a little, Liza.” “Peak romance.” “Want me to talk about your dress some more?” She shook her head. “Unnecessary. And you didn’t.” “That might be part of the problem.” “Nursing old crushes, you mean?” Her hair hit her cheek. And his hand. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. “Nah, this wasn’t like...there was no torch, not really. I—I wasn’t hanging posters of you on my wall if that’s the picture you’ve painted for yourself.” “Kinda disappointing, admittedly.” “Pick a lane, babe.” No sparkle, that time. Just flash and want and the very thin line Lizzie’s lips had become. “Be more specific,” Roland repeated softly. “You’re not standing on a pedestal. Just you, Rol, as is.” He waited. That was fair. There should have been more. Should have been a detailed list of all the reasons the grown-up version of her liked so many parts of the grown-up version of him, but that all felt a little extraneous when she was still thinking about closet-type possibilities and that stubborn streak was a mile wide, anyway.

Roland nodded once. “Good.”

Both of them jumped. At the pop of another champagne bottle and Lizzie never understood how Regina managed to order so much champagne every year, but she felt a bit like she was floating on the bubbles, and they didn’t decide. Explicitly. To keep the whole thing—

Secret.

Another bad word. With bad connotations and shadows that clung to the definition, but this was them and only them and, for right now, that was enough. And if no one noticed the way Roland’s hand drifted over the small of Lizzie’s back during David’s speech, then that was a miracle she was willing to accept.

#blue line rambles #blue line one shots #these really are just original characters at this point #i have also written:#matt and claire meeting for the first time #henry and ella meeting for the first time #stuff about peggy and jeremy humbert #and i've got a whole list of will x belle stuff #in case it wasn't ovbious people still aren't responding to my emails #oh! also roland and lizzie's engagement #i wrote that too #also if you are so inclined: wilder days by morgan wade played like four times while i wrote this #mylifeisalifestyle #laura rambles

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