#am I a snob about the baked goods I eat? yes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juliandev0rak · 3 years ago

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Into The Wild

Chapter 3: Goldenrod

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

Words: 3055

“Willa! She took my beads!”

“Willa, Lucio told us there are sharks in the lake, is that true?”

“Willa I got a paper cut!”

Willa takes a seat at the front of the arts and crafts cabin and takes a moment to breathe and re-center. She’s been at Camp Vesuvia for two weeks now, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t exhausted from being constantly on. Someone always needs something from her, and there's only so much coffee one person can drink to stay energetic and peppy through it all.

She gives herself thirty more seconds to wallow a bit, and then she’ll get back to the campers. Willa breathes in slowly as she watches the little hand on her watch tick out the seconds, and exhales. Thirty seconds are up.

“Ok campers, gather up!” Willa calls, her enthusiasm only slightly fabricated, her smile only slightly tired.

Thirty minutes later, the campers are happily working on their art projects and Willa has another chance for a break. She likes to give them free choice most of the time, they can do anything they want with the supplies in the cabin. Some of the campers are painting, others making bracelets, and one kid in the corner seems to be making a spaceship out of modeling clay. It's chaos, but Willa likes to think it's the organized kind, or at least the fun kind.

She steps outside to check on a group of campers making flower chains, humming as she walks. The hum gets stuck in her throat as Willa stops, looking around the empty clearing in confusion, and then panic. The kids she’d seen only five minutes before have vanished, and though it's not unusual for campers to wander off to some other activity, they’re supposed to tell her first.

Willa is about to call Nadia for help when she hears a camper’s voice say, “Is that a wolf!?”

The word “wolf” puts her on alert and Willa hurriedly follows the sound of the camper around the side of the arts and crafts cabin. She sighs in relief at the sight of the kids she’d been looking for. And sure enough, they’re busy petting a large black wolf.

Her first instinct is to pull the campers away, but the wolf looks up at her with kind eyes and Willa realizes that she knows this wolf. “Inanna! What are you doing here?” She scratches her behind the ears and Inanna sniffs at her hand happily. “Is Muriel around?”

Inanna stops licking her and turns towards the building next door, a storage shed with a door ajar, and Willa realizes that Inanna is giving her directions. She turns towards the campers first to give them a quick lecture on not approaching unfamiliar animals, especially wolves, and sends them back inside. Muriel steps out of the storage shed and nearly hits his head on the top of the door frame in his surprise as he sees Willa.

“Muriel! Over here!” she calls, waving him over. For a moment it looks like he’s going to walk away, but he finally turns towards her. He stops several feet away and Inanna trots over to his side.

“Can I help you with something?” Muriel asks.

“I was just wondering what you’re doing,” Willa smiles, leaning down to pick up a flower one of the campers had dropped on the path. It’s a dandelion, some people would call it a weed, but Willa has always liked those sorts of flowers best.

“I’m working.”

“What are you working on?”

Muriel looks at her warily. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Yes, I’ve been told that before,” she laughs, her fingers busy twirling the stem of the flower.

“I help Nadia sometimes, around the camp. There was a light out in the shed,” Muriel explains, pointing back towards the small cabin he’d just exited.

“Oh, we’ve got a lightbulb out in the arts and crafts cabin too! I uh, couldn’t reach it and i couldn’t find a ladder or I would’ve changed it myself,” Willa turns towards the still open cabin door. She points to the back corner where a lightbulb flickers faintly. “If you’ve got a minute, could you replace it?”

Muriel regards her for a moment and then turns to walk away in the opposite direction. She watches him incredulously and walks back into the cabin with a huff, “How rude.”

A few minutes later, Willa is busy helping a camper with a tangled bracelet when Muriel enters the cabin. A few of the campers greet him as “Ranger Muriel” and Willa can’t help but smile at the way he greets the campers back. He knows a lot of their names and seems interested in the projects they’re working on.

“Where did you go?” Willa asks as he approaches her table.

“To get a lightbulb.” He holds it up to show her and crosses over to the left side of the room where the dead light is.

“Oh,” Willa says, feeling bad for assuming he was being rude. “Thank you.”

It takes him only a minute to change out the lightbulb, but when he’s done he doesn’t leave. Instead, he walks over to where Willa is sitting, awkwardly hovering for a minute before she notices him and looks up.

“What are you working on?” he asks. It takes him a minute to get all of the words out, as if the question took a lot of effort to ask.

“I’m making a friendship bracelet!” She holds it up to show him. It’s a design of her own making, a repeating pattern of different kinds of leaves all made in green thread. If a certain green-eyed park ranger was the inspiration for the color palette, she’ll never tell.

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you!” Willa says proudly, setting the bracelet back down carefully. “Would you like to make one?”

Muriel takes a step towards the door. “I should get back to the station.”

“Of course. Feel free to stop by any time!” she smiles. He gives her a nod as he leaves, and Willa’s attention is soon pulled away by campers.

Later that evening, Willa finds herself huddled over the fire pit mourning the loss of yet another marshmallow. She can’t seem to toast a marshmallow without catching it on fire. Asra comes over to watch as she tries again, and this time goes marginally better, she’s able to blow the fire out before her marshmallow burns to a crisp.

“I wouldn’t eat that,” Asra says, eyeing the charcoal colored marshmallow.

Willa adds a piece of chocolate and smushes it between two graham crackers without a care. She eats the s’more in one giant bite, wiping chocolate off of her chin as she chews. “Well, it’s a good thing that was my marshmallow then.”

“You’re bad at s’mores,” Asra frowns.

“There’s no wrong way to s’more, Asra, you’re a marshmallow snob!” Willa points the end of her metal marshmallow skewer at him and he backs up, holding his hands up defensively.

“I am not, I just prefer my s’mores to be edible.”

“Perhaps my tastebuds are more developed than yours,” Willa teases, “I can appreciate the delicate flavor of blackened marshmallow.”

“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that,” Asra laughs. He walks off to join the rest of the camp staff on the other side of the amphitheater, leaving Willa to her marshmallow pyromania.

“You’re too impatient, you have to cook it low and slow,” the now-familiar gruff voice comes from behind Willa, startling her.

She turns towards Muriel, her face pulling into a grin at the sight of him, “You came!”

Muriel’s lips pull up into the barest hint of a smile as he looks back at her, but his eyes quickly shift away. “You’re a fire hazard, I had to make sure you weren’t going to set the forest on fire.”

“It’s not my fault all the marshmallows spontaneously combust!”

“You’re too impatient,” Muriel repeats.

“I am not impatient!” Willa frowns and shoves another marshmallow onto her skewer, nearly stabbing her hand on the pointy end.

“Careful,” Muriel eyes her cautiously, keeping a safe distance away from the sharp end of her stick.

“Fine, if you’re so good at roasting marshmallows show me how to do it.” Willa holds the skewer out to him and he grabs it, their hands briefly touching as she passes it over. They both recoil as if they’ve been burned and Muriel clears his throat as he turns away from her and towards the fire.

“Hold it over a smaller piece of wood, away from the fire.” Muriel demonstrates, holding the marshmallow low over one of the smoldering logs instead of putting it directly into the fire as Willa does. She watches him intently, but she’s looking at his face rather than the marshmallow lesson. In the firelight, she traces the sharp line of his jaw with her eyes, marking the shape of his nose, his eyebrows, his lips.

“See?” Muriel hands her the skewer, breaking her out of her daze. Sure enough, the marshmallow is perfectly golden brown, not a burn mark in sight.

“You’re a wizard, this has to be witchcraft,” Willa marvels. But even magical marshmallows need to be eaten. She prepares a s’more and hands it to Muriel, who seems quite surprised to be handed the sweet treat.

“It’s not magic, it’s patience.” Muriel takes a bite of the s’more and Willa watches as his eyes close halfway and his lips pull into another rare smile at the taste. He must like sweets, Willa makes a note to remember that. Maybe she’ll bake him something. She notices a bit of chocolate on his cheek, next to his lips, and reaches up to brush it off without a thought.

“You had chocolate on your face,” she explains as Muriel pulls back in surprise. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Muriel looks away, but the fire is just bright enough to illuminate his blushing face.

“Alright, I’m gonna try it,” Willa changes the subject, sparing them both the awkwardness. She prepares another marshmallow, gently rotating it over the log as she’d seen Muriel do.

Her marshmallow is not quite as perfect as Muriel’s was, but it still tastes great. Whether it's the amount of sugar she’s had or her proximity to Muriel, she feels more awake than she has all week, and bolder too. “I made you something.”

“You— what?” Muriel’s eyes widen as he looks at her.

“I made you a friendship bracelet.” Willa reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls the bracelet out. She doesn’t know when she decided to give it to him, but it feels like he should have it.

“A friendship bracelet?”

“Yes! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Willa holds it out to him and he takes it, holding it carefully as if it’s breakable.

“I guess.”

Willa laughs, shaking her head at his comment. “You saved me from a bear, that makes us friends.”

Muriel holds the bracelet in the palm of his hand, his eyes still glued to the green woven threads. “You don’t have to give me this, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I made it with you in mind,” Willa admits. “Here let me help you put it on, if you want.”

Muriel holds his wrist out, and when Willa’s hand rests on his arm they both freeze, looking at each other briefly before their eyes move away. She tries to focus on the task at hand and carefully ties the bracelet onto his wrist. His skin is so warm against hers, and his hand is calloused. Willa resists the urge to run her fingers along the lines of his palm, but she still lets her hands linger longer than they should.

“There. I think it suits you.” Willa takes a step back and sits down on the amphitheater bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. Muriel hesitates for a moment before taking a seat next to her, closer than she would’ve expected. They sit in companionable silence for a minute until two campers run up to ask Willa a question.

“You’re good with them,” Muriel comments after the kids have scampered off.

“The campers are sweet, most of the time,” Willa smiles, thinking of some of the more mischievous kids she’s met over the last few weeks. “I think it must be hard to be away from your family for so long, eight weeks is a long time for a child.”

“Mmm,” Muriel agrees. He busies himself with tracing the leaf pattern on his bracelet, his fingers working their way around the trail of leaves and back around again.

Willa leans back, tilting her head up towards the sky and the stars which are just starting to appear. “I was shy as a kid, and I pretty much only had my family since we lived in the middle of nowhere. I think a camp like this would’ve been good for me. I did go camping with my family a few times, but that’s not the same. Did you ever go to camp as a kid?”

“No.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I never knew my family,” Muriel replies, looking vaguely uncomfortable at the admission.

She turns to look at him, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Muriel nods at her sympathetic comment and turns to look up at the sky. He shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and sighs, his voice a bit softer as he asks, “Do you have siblings?”

“I’ve got two brothers, one older and one younger,” Willa replies, her thoughts turning to the family she left behind to move to the city. It's been years since she last saw her brothers, and being in a place like this makes her miss them more than usual.

“Do you miss your family?” Muriel seems surprised at his own question, as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“I miss my brothers, but my parents... well, I think we get along better from a distance,” she sighs. “Things are complicated.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” For a moment Willa thinks about saying more. She wants to tell him everything, where she’s been, where she wants to go. She’s pretty sure that he’d listen. But Willa’s not ready for that yet, she doesn’t want to ruin the fragile friendship they have, so she changes the subject again.

“A few of us are going into town later since we have tomorrow off. There’s a little bar that does karaoke on Friday nights, Asra and Portia roped me into it. You could come with us if you want.” She has a feeling she already knows what his answer will be, but she doesn’t want to miss out on the slight chance of spending more time with him.

“I don’t sing.”

“Well, I must warn you, if you don’t go you’ll be missing out on Asra and I dueting every song in ABBA’s discography, complete with choreography,” she says. To her surprise Muriel laughs, the sound deep and gravely and somehow very comforting. Willa joins in with him, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

“I hope you have fun.”

“If I come back tomorrow with my voice gone, blame Asra,” she laughs, looking across the fire at her friend who is busy talking to Nadia.

A few moments pass in silence as Willa watches sparks fly from the fire, bright spots of gold standing out against the dark sky. Finally she looks up at Muriel, her breath catching a little in her throat as she tries to think of something to say. She wants to ask him to stay, to spend more time with her, but instead she says, “Thanks for showing me how to roast the perfect marshmallow.”

She playfully nudges his shoulder with hers and Muriel looks down at her. He stiffens a bit but doesn’t pull away as she lets her shoulder rest against his arm. Then suddenly Asra is standing in front of her and Willa pulls away from Muriel, trying to hide the way her face flushes.

“Willa, you ready to go?” Asra asks, giving her a teasing grin.

“Yep!” Her voice is a tad too loud and she winces at the squeakiness. She stands up and brushes dirt off of her jeans, turning back to look at Muriel again. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll see you around, then.” Willa turns away, taking a step towards Asra.

“Willa, wait,” Muriel calls, and her heart leaps into her throat as she looks back at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the bracelet. It’s nice,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear him.

“You’re welcome! We’re friends, that’s what friends do.” She gives him one last smile and turns to follow Asra and Portia out of the amphitheater.

“So, ‘friends’ huh?” Asra teases.

“Shut up or I’m not singing Mamma Mia with you,” Willa grumbles.

Asra puts his arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “You wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

“I’m usually right. And am I also right in guessing that you have a crush on Muriel?”

“Oh please, that’s not a guess, that's just an obvious fact,” Portia adds. “Even the campers know about it.”

“They do!?” Willa’s eyes go wide, wondering how the whole camp could possibly know when she’s only just figuring it out herself.

“Yeah, earlier I heard a camper say that they ‘ship it’,” Asra laughs.

Willa puts her head in her hands, shaking her head in dismay. “Oh no.”

“So...you’re not denying it?” Asra asks. Willa’s car comes into view as they walk up the hill towards the front of camp and she tosses her keys at Asra.

“You can drive.”

“Answer the question,” Portia prods as she gets into the back seat of the car.

“I’m not denying it.” Both of her friends turn to look at her with mouths wide open in surprise and Willa flushes red, focusing her attention on buckling her seatbelt.

“So you admit it then, you have a crush on him?” Portia grins. “Oh, I definitely have a crush on him,” Willa sighs.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Asra asks.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

✧

#c h a p t e r 3 !#this was so fun to write ahh i love them...#asra and portia are ideal best friends i feel like drunk karaoke with them would be hilarious #i almost went to the craft store to buy supplies for making friendship bracelets after this lol #i have also really been craving a s'more #willa wednesday #willa clary #apprentice willa #muriel the arcana #milla

11 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 5 years ago

Note

Winemaker!Hobi!!!! y/n is wine tasting with her friend (idk why people go wine tasting but I'm sure it's for parties or something) and she forgets you aren't actually supposed to SwaLLow the wine and gets a little tipsy and she embarrasses herself, and her friend, but Hobi is like uwu she cute

➺ pairing; jung hoseok x reader

➺ genre; sommelier!hoseok, mostly comedy because y/n’s kind of a dummy

➺ wordcount: 3.6k

➺ what to expect; “the choice to spit or swallow is entirely up to you.”

➺ note; after one million years i have returned with a hobi drabble!! i thought this request was sO good and also everyone look how handsome sommelier!hoseok is :’)) i hate wine but i would chug ten bottles just to sit around and listen to him explain to me how white wines go with creamy foods and red wines go with spicy foods :’)) okay happy reading clink clink!! (gif source unknown but i found it off here!!)

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

sometimes the fact that you’re friends with kim taehyung genuinely confuses you

not just because you’re complete opposites in terms of literally everything but also because-

well… that’s pretty much it.

the two of you are like... a peanut butter and pickle sandwich!

when you first look at it you might think that combination is a little funky anD could possibly lead to destroying a toilet BUT when you actually give it a try you realise it’s actually pretty great!

…you get the point

so when taehyung told you that he wanted to spend his birthday at a wine tasting event, you really weren’t that surprised because of couRse he wants to spend his birthday drinking wine and socialising with other wine snobs instead of doing something actually fun like… literally anything else in the entire world

you’ve always prided yourself on being a good friend so if wine tasting was what taehyung wanted, then wine tasting was what he’d get!

but, uh

to be perfectly honest

you’re not really a wine person

you’re more of a margarita person

you just don’t see the appeal of drinking fermented grapes!!!!

why drink bitter grape juice when you can drink sugary lime goodness??

why drink something that’s been ageing in a barrel for like fifteen years when you can drink something that nevER ages due to the insane amount of additives in the premix formulas??

“wowiE, check out that spread!” you look over at the round table in the centre of the room as you and tae trickle in with the rest of the participants of the event “is that fondue?? holy shit.”

“hopefully you don’t burn the roof of your mouth again.” taehyung snorts before the smile falters on his face, “…maybe you should stay away from the fondue altogether.”

the two of you take your seats (there are fancy name cards for everyone!!) and you smooth your skirt out before smiling politely at a couple of the other people at the table

so far, the rest of the people here are… to put it as nicely as possible… more mature than you thought they’d be

but then again this is a wine-tasting seminar so it would be a huge surprise to see other twenty-something year olds hanging out here

you feel out of place but taehyung is just soaking it all up

he’s happily chatting away with the older gentleman seated next to him

sometimes you tell taehyung that you feel like he’s a fifty-five year old man trapped in the body of a twenty-four year old

and he never fights back because he knows it’s true

you let out a breath as you take a look around the room

god

you’re going to be stuck here for a good two hours drinking wine

maybe you can sneak away to the hotel bar or something

taehyung probably wouldn’t notice, right?

but would that make you a bad friend?? abandoning him here when you said this was a thing you were going to do with him??

“you know, i see myself as a wine enthusiast. the more i drink, the more enthusiastic i become!” taehyung laughs heartily and the other couples join him

christ almighty

you’re tempted to ask him which wine-mom facebook page it was that he stole that joke from

“does anyone have the time? i think it might be wine o’ clock soon…”

you let out a quiet groan as you feel your soul literally float out of your body

okay well

that’s your cue

you are ouTTa here

just as you’re about to get up off your chair, you hear the door slam shut and-

“good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! welcome to today’s wine-tasting event. my name is hoseok, and i’m going to be your host…”

you shift in your seat as you follow the host with your eyes

you feel your heart skip a beat when he spins around to face the table

he’s handsome

like vERY handsome

perfectly tousled dark brown hair

bright twinkly eyes

his nose is literally perfect!!! perfectly slanted and perfectly pointed!!!

and his smile!!!!! it’s shaped like a heart!!!!! how precious!!!!

the thin gold chain hanging around his neck winks at you under the lights and you swallow thickly

it seems as though you’ve found a reason to stay at this event

as hoseok begins to explain how the structure of the event is going to pan out, you find yourself paying extra attention to the way his lips curve around certain words

“as you’ve probably already noticed, there’s an abundance of different dishes in front of you that’ll go great with some of the wine you’ll be tasting today… over here, a roasted fruit and cheese platter… a smoky three cheese fondue with some freshly baked french baguette slices on the side… popcorn with sesame glazed pistachios…” he slowly makes his way around the table as he introduces each of the dishes and you feel your heart drumming away as he gets closer and closer to you, “dark chocolate sea salt cashews… baked brie with figs and walnuts…”

and you think it might be a nervous habit or something but whenever he pauses his tongue pokes out quickly to lick over his bottom lip

whatever it is it’s cuTE

as he passes you and tae you catch a whiff of his cologne and for some reason you instinctively cross your legs

and when hoseok looks directly at you your thighs automatically squeeze together and-

oh god

okAY you need to relax

why don’t you just stare at the fondue or something??

you’ll do that

you immediately look down at the three cheese fondue and you begin counting how many chunks of baguettes there are on the plate sitting next to it to keep you distracted

it’s a shame you’re staring down this fondue instead of paying attention to hoseok because you don’t notice the way his eyes scan over you before he’s quickly looking over at someone else

“i believe it’s essential to expectorate when you’re tasting a wide variety of wines, but i’m well aware that some people might not be comfortable with spitting into cups and pouring that into a dump bucket, so-“ you look back up at hoseok after you finish counting the baguette chunks (you counted twenty six but some are hidden under others) “the choice to spit or swallow is entirely up to you.”

you immediately choke (on nothing??? apparently??? goD you’re lame) and reach over to grab your glass of water to keep yourself from bursting into giggles

tae gives you a couple pats on the back before rolling his eyes playfully

you find toilet humour pretty funny so he’s not surprised that you chokEd over the spitting or swallowing thing

the corner of hoseok’s mouth twitches in a smirk when he hears you whisper: “in my humble opinion, spitters are quitters-“ to your friend before you’re pressing your lips together and holding back a grin

he looks at your name tag quickly

y/n y/l/n

how cute

“so you’re going to want to hold the glass up and examine the wine against the light,” hoseok explains, “what you’re looking for are colour and clarity.”

you let out a little sigh as you prop your cheek up on your fist while the other hand holds up your glass on wine

you look down at the information sheet on the table

it’s basically just a list of the wines that you’re trying today and you’re still on number one

it’s been like fifteen minutes!!!

there are seven wines you have to go through!!!

this hoseok guy is hot but gee whiZ he really takes his time with things

you could probably explain the wine better and faster than him!!

the colour of the wine is red!

…and you don’t know what clarity means so you’re just going to say that the clarity of the wine is also red!

“now stick your nose into the glass and give that a good whiff. what do you smell?” hoseok pauses as he looks around the table

“i’m getting notes of… i’m thinking strawberry…?”

“yes, so am i!”

“is it strawberry or cherry? i feel like it’s easy to mix those two up.”

“there’s something nutty… i’m picking up something nutty but i’m not quite sure…”

“it smells like wine to me.” you blurt out and tae elbows you when you get a couple irritated glances from your fellow wine buddies

what???

were you wronG??

you lean over to get closer to tae, “when are we drinking??” you whisper as hoseok continues to babble on about the different notes that you should be picking up on

“hush.” tae scowls before nudging you back

goD

this is torture!!!

“go ahead and give that a taste.”

there we go

you tilt your head back as you down the wine in one go

down the ol’ hatchet!

also

another reason as to why you’d be a much better sommelier than hoseok: his serving sizes are tiny!!!! how are you supposed to properly taste and appreciate the wine when he gave each of you like a tiny baby shot of it??

“now, this wine pairs particularly well with the dark chocolate sea salt cashews, so feel free to try that combination.”

you perk up at the mention of eating

noW we’re talking

>:)

since the two of you are here for him, taehyung didn’t think that he’d have to worry too much about you

because today is his day! he should be able to enjoy his fancy wine tasting event! he wants to chat about how the creamy brie cheese compliments this rich white wine! he wants to learn about how different types of glasses can change the way you taste a certain type of wine!!

but NO

he doesn’t check up on you for good half an hour and thIS is what he gets

you’re wasted

zooted!!!

completely gone!!!!

you’re slumping back against your chair with a dopey little smile on your face while trying to balance a little chunk of camembert cheese on the tip of your pointer finger

“y/n, you weren’t- you weren’t supposed to drink all of the wine, you blockhead-“ taehyung whispers as he plucks the cheese off your finger before using his napkin to wipe your hands clean

“well, i believe in noT being wasteful, sooOo i think you might be in the wrong here, mr. look-at-all-the-wine-left-in-my-glasses-“

“alright, so this next one is a merlot,” hoseok explains as he makes his way around the table to fill everyone’s glasses up, “in terms of flavour, it’s definitely more fruit-driven and has a more cherry-like aftertaste. it has a smoother finish compared to the cabernet sauvignon that we tried earlier…”

taehyung whacks the side of your leg when hoseok gets closer to the two of and you immediately straighten up in your seat

“wine me up, monsieur.” you hold your glass up for hoseok and offer him a bright smile

he chuckles and plucks the glass from your hand before setting it back down on the table

taehyung gives you a warning look before reaching up slowly and gesturing to keep your lips zipped

you raise your hands in defence before zipping your lips and throwing the key away anD blinking hard (it was supposed to be a wink)

taehyung raises a brow

you can’t zip your lips anD lock your lips that doesn’t make any sen-

you know what

it’s fine

as long as you don’t say anything else for the remainder of this session it’ll be fine

“everyone has a little in their glass? good. go ahead and give that a taste.” hoseok clears his throat before turning to put the bottle down

you take a small sip of it before tilting your head back and-

gurlrulrulrurlurlurrgurlugr-

“what the hell are you doing?!” tae hisses as he gives your arm a hard pinch

you choke and give your chest a couple hard pats before grimacing

“god, that did noT go down smoothly.” you whisper loudly and shake your head, “i’m giving that one a sssaaad face.” you slur as you doodle a little frowny face next to the name

taehyung’s eyes widen as he looks at what you did to your information sheet

where did you even find a pen????

‘not good very bitter if ass was a flavour then this would be ass juice’

‘supposed to be complimentary with aged cheddar but i think it would go better with a kraft single’

and then in thiS corner there are several attempts of you trying to spell sauvignon blanc and they’re all scribbled out

‘sawvinion bank. solveingrown blank. sawnananananananananananananananana batman!!!!’

oh dear god

you slap tae’s hand away before scribbling something new down

‘tasted better after gargling.’

oh dear GOD

“everything alright over there?” hoseok chirps and taehyung gives him a sheepish smile before nodding quickly

“all good! sorry, we’re all good.”

“alright, does anyone have any questions for me before we move on to-”

“oOh, i have a question!! i have one, i have one, pick me-“ you wiggle your arm around and hoseok nods in your direction

“yes, y/n?”

“i think, i think that we should order, um, we should, we should order a pizza. because these water crackers or whatever you call them are nOT doing it for me, like, look at this-“ you pick one up before popping it into your mouth and chewing obnoxiously, “fho dhry. fho DRY-” you let your jaw drop and taehyung suppresses a groan of mortification when what looks like straight up saND falls out of your mouth and sprinkles right into your wine glass

“oh, god. please stop, please stop-“ taehyung winces and quickly reaches over to snap your mouth shut

you slap tae’s hand away before swallowing your bite

“so, thoughts on this pissszzzaa?” you slur as you reach for another water cracker (tae moves the plate away before you get a chance to grab one) “is pepperoni okay with everyone? yes? yes? good? nice? yum? hm?” you look around the table while nodding enthusiastically, “barbara, my love, i noticed your earrings are from chanel which can only mean you’re loaded so because of tHAT i think you should be the one to pay for this extra large, cheese-stuffed crust pepperoni-

“okay! i think you need a time out-“ taehyung chuckles and gets up before grabbing you by the arm and yanking you up off your chair

“time out??” you gawk as you stumble over your feet, “i’m not three years old, taehyung, i- oOh, barbara, dahling, if we order within the next five minutes, we can get two cans of coke on the HOUSE-!“

sLam

“-you’re going to sit here and do nothing, got it?” taehyung scolds as he helps you get settled on the ground next to the door of the room

“i gotta say, i think all this wine is making you a little catty-“ you purr before playfully batting at taehyung’s face

luckily he moves before you get the chance to scratch his cheek

tae pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and shakes his head, “y/n, you know you’re one of my best friends and that i care a lot about you, and i appreciate you being here with me but- today was supposed to be my day! my day! so can you please just sit here and behave? please?”

even in your drunken haze you can see that taehyung is upset with you and that’s enough to sober you up a little bit

you didn’t mean to upset him :-(

you were just trying to do this wine tasting thing right!!!!! and you weRe technically tasting the wine.,. just maybe a little too much of it.,,.

you nod slowly and reach up to zip your mouth shut

“good. the water dispenser is right there, so stay hydrated.” he gets up off the ground and dusts his knees off, “and we can order a pizza after this is over, okay?”

you nod again and offer him a meek little smile

you spend the next twenty minutes staring at the wall in silence

occasionally you looked around to see if anything besides nothING was happening

you did get up once to get yourself a little paper cone of water

and then you put the cone on the top of your head like a little party hat

but theN you realised that putting a white paper cone on top of your head was just you giving yourself a dunce cap which… was actually pretty fitting in this situation

at the twenty-eight minute mark the door opens quietly and you immediately perk up because you automatically assume it’s tae

“it’s y/n, right?”

“oh, uh-“ your eyes widen as hoseok slides down the wall to plop himself down right next to you “yes? yeah. i’m- yes, i’m y/n.”

“i noticed you were a fan of the dark chocolate covered cashews, so-“ he holds out a little napkin filled with the cashews before handing it over to you, “everyone in there is currently mingling with each other, so i figured i’d come out here and keep you company.”

you blink owlishly

he’s being pretty friendly considering the fact that the two of you are complete strangers

almost too friendly

…you like that :-)

because you totally like being overly-friendly with strangers too!!!!

in fact, that’s how you and tae became friends!!

but enough about tae because heLLo attractive young man sitting right next to you-

“ah, well, i’ve been staring at that patchy blotch of paint on the wall for-“ you pause to check the time on your phone, “coming up to be twenty-five minutes now, so you’re not missing out on that much.” you murmur as you unwrap the napkin and pick up a cashew before popping it into your mouth

“i, um, actually…” hoseok trails off before laughing lightly, “i wanted to come out here to talk to you about earlier-“

“oh, god. you don’t have to say anything, i know i was acting insane-“ you shake your head before snorting, “trust me, you won’T be seeing me again after the event ends-“

“but i do want to see you again.”

you freeze for a second before turning to look at him

you wait for another second to go by juSt to make sure he’s not playing around with you

“…say that again?”

“i mean… i thought you were hilarious!” he grins, “i know the alcohol was definitely a contributing factor, but i took a glance at your information sheet and-“ he pauses to pull the folded up piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, “-i don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone describe the aftertaste of a sémillon like: ‘you know lemon-scented febreze? now imagine what it’d taste like if you mixed sprayed lemon-scented febreze into a glass of bleach, because that’s what this tastes like’.” hoseok looks over at you with wide eyes, “you made this wine-tasting session way more fun than i thought it was going to be!!”

huh!

what a pleasant surprise!!!

cute boy thinks you’re funny!!!!!!

“i’m glad to hear that me humiliating myself was entertaining for you!” you joke before rolling your eyes playfully,“the only reason why i’m here is because my friend is a self-proclaimed wine snob.”

“oh, please. everyone here is a self-proclaimed wine snob.” hoseok rolls his eyes playfully, “no offence to your friend, of course.”

“oh, no. all the offence, please.” you snort and pick up another cashew, “he kicked me out to punish me but i didn’t even wanna be in there in the first place so this is actually super great.”

“ooh, i think i just felt my heart split in half…” hoseok winces dramatically as he presses a hand to his chest

you can’t help but giggle before you look away nervously

now that you’re not drunk off your ass, you feel the butterflies returning to your tummy

you barely know this guy but you’re pretty sure you’re already 500% in love with him

…what wine is he going to pick out at your guys’ wedding?

oOp

okay time to reel it in a little

“-i know this might seem a little out of the blue, but… would you wanna go out for drinks sometime… with- with me…?” hoseok clears his throat

wait what

you look back at hoseok so quickly that your head probably could’ve popped off your neck

he glances away before letting out a nervous chuckle, “i just… yeah, can i take you out?”

your eyes widen slightly

oh!!

you certainly weren’t expecting for him to ask you out but you’re definitely not complaining

“feel free to say no, i just- ah, i don’t know, i don’t usually get a lot of people my age coming to these things, and i feel like you-“

“i’d love to go out for drinks sometime… definitely with you.“ you tease as you nudge his arm gently

hoseok’s cheeks flush before he beams at you

“great! i know a place that makes really good cocktails- say, do you like margaritas?”

your lips part in a gawk

“do i like- do you wanna get married??” you scoff as you sit up straight, “i love margaritas!”

“great! i promise i won’t make you drink anything that tastes like-“ hoseok pauses to look at your sheet again, “‘mouldy grapes after they’ve been trampled on by someone with athlete’s foot’…?”

you flash him a sheepish smile

yeah

you don’t think you’re ever going to be a wine person.

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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faerune · 4 years ago

Note

💘 + leon and cassie 🔫 now

also asked by @ottobooty!

where they first met and how hot local racoon city survivors in YOUR area want to fuck! no for real, cassie had holed up in a diner with a group of other survivors and prior to leon getting to the police station he helps cassie fix/find parts to load up an old delivery truck in the back alley to get them all to safety. when leon leaves cassie promises to come back and make sure he + claire have a ride out of town and she does appear in that last shot in her shitty little happy dairy truck like hey you guys look like you need a ride.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved cassie has always been kinda of a flirt just offhandedly and i feel like leon is kinda of the same way just he’s cheesy and awkward about it when he’s a little younger. they flirt during the couple months they’re all trying to get their bearings after racoon city and then don’t really stay in touch much until the gov drags them both in separately.

after that more flirting, some undercover missions and zombies and leon finally asks her to dinner. cassie teases ‘don’t expect me to put out on the first date just because you saved my ass today’ pft.

who fell for who first cassie will never ever admit it but it was her. like hard. she fell for leon like she was carrying a drink carrier full of hot coffee across a busy intersection in new york, tripped off the curb in front of hundreds of people and slammed her knee into the pavement.

where their first date was and what it was like dinner and a movie! cassie loves film but also is not a snob and adores laughably bad movies so they went and saw a goofy ass B action movie and then went to a late dinner at a diner that they always eat at after work.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ) leon just pretty simply says let me take you to dinner and cassie teases ‘oh are you asking me on a date kennedy?’ and he just shrugs and goes ‘yeah. i am’ cassie admittedly gets like flustered for half a second and she’s like. okay cool fine.

who proposes first cassie. she’s been so weird and avoidant about getting married so leon has always let her bring it up. when they get back together a few months later they’re laying in bed together and cassie is like can you propose to me now? and leon is like well do you wanna be surprised or do you want the ring now? and cassie just smiles and plops her head on his chest and is like ‘surprise is okay’.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away due to their jobs and them being afraid of having each other just be another thing people hold over their heads to keep them working there, they keep it really quiet at the beginning. everyone on their team kinda knows but they aren’t announcing it everywhere.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? ) leon takes her out to dinner and then they take a walk in the park! they sit on a little bench all lit up by the winter christmas lights and he gets down on one knee :’)

if they adopt any pets together absolutely! i just have not figured out what kind yet! probably a cat because cassie has cat person energy.

who’s more dominant it kinda flip flops. cassie is more dominant in terms of talking to people, making decisions but in terms of progressing the relationship that’s definitely leon. in terms of some more ahem other times cassie’s a brat and leon just wants to give her whatever she wants.

where their first kiss was and what it was like they’ve kissed on undercover missions before but i’m not sure if it really “counts”. their first kiss as just leon and cassie was when leon dropped her off at her place after their date and cassie pulled him down for a kiss. after they finished leon was smiling all dopey and still kind of leaning down to her and she just smirked at him and wished him a good night.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ) sdgjksdg i can see them at the most having like a set of cute matching mugs but that’s about it. cassie would die before wearing matching sweaters with him no matter how much she loves him.

how into pda they are they hand hold/give each other pecks/leon throws his arm around her shoulders while they walk but they’re not too obnoxious about it! cassie likes it but if he tries to do anything else she gets flustered. admittedly, leon kinda loves when she does so he’s always whispering sweet stuff in her ears while she tries to elbow him in the stomach sdklgsdg.

who holds the umbrella when it rains leon!! he’s taller so it just makes sense.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is the diner where they just always got dinner cause it was near the facility where they worked together for so long! they both have never been to DC so they just went to the nearest place after their first day and they were like so this is OUR diner.

who’s more protective leon. cassie is very annoyed by it pft. especially when she pops up during the civil war. ya know. in the middle of an actual warzone with possible biological weapons. cassie: :) im here to cause problems on purpose. leon: why in the FUCK is my ex here armed with a thousand dollar camera and a tiny pistol.

how long it is before they sleep together they almost sleep together the day before their second date, making out on leon’s desk but they get interrupted and they’re like okay we gotta chill. leon arrives to pick her up for their date and cassie yanks him into her bedroom. needless to say they miss their movie.

if they argue about anything they bicker playfully but also cassie accuses leon of not treating her like an adult who can make her own decisions because he’s so fucking overprotective. leon accuses cassie of being careless with her life. they have i guess..not arguments but debates over morals?

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. ) leon leaves hickeys like he’s a teenager but he’s usually good about keeping them in places that can’t be seen. cassie wears red lipstick a lot so leon has to pay extra attention if they sneak away at work to make sure he doesn’t have it smeared all over his lips. she likes to kiss his cheek and leave a big mark too.

who steals whose clothes and how often cassie: not your hoodies babe, our hoodies.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? ) they are spooners through and through. cassie needs to be held and leon is happy to do it.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is watching movies together! leon is happy that cassie wants to share all her favorites with him and they have movie nights.

how long they stay mad at each other leon normally just needs a second to cool down normally but cassie holds a grudge for a day or maybe two then she’s ready to talk. but uh...in terms of big betrayals leon gives off the im not angry im disappointed and betrayed and you hurt me energy loud and clear and takes a long time to forgive and settle. it’s the worst cassie has ever felt.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are cassie gets a tall black coffee (iced or hot depending on the season) and leon likes lattes with whipped cream and carmel.

if they ever have any children together yes absolutely! i haven’t decided on names or anything yet but they definitely have two little boys just because that tweet that’s about that dad and two lil boys getting out of the car and the dad goes “who can go hug mom the fastest?!” is THEM.

if they have any special pet names for each other pretty normal ones! baby, babe are the most common. cassie likes to say honey and dear sarcastically because she thinks those make her sound like she’s a 50s housewife but secretly kinda likes calling him honey.

if they ever split up and / or get back together hah UH yeah. cassie leaks information about completed STRATCOM ops and leon eventually finds out and they have a huge fight. leon leaves the next morning and they end their relationship. he doesn’t turn her in because he still loves her and knows she did it with goodness in her heart but he’s just so conflicted. he just basically says turn in your resignation and leaves. they do eventually get back together! they break up early 2004, see each other in 2006 when cassie reaches out to him for his contacts to help her father who gets sick and then in 2011 they’re present in the civil war in the east and they get together after reconnecting through that.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like they meet each other’s parents for the first time! they invite them over for dinner along with cassie’s sisters and nieces and nephews. it’s VERY chaotic but it goes really well. leon’s mom loves cassie. uhh cassie’s dad scares the shit out of leon just because he’s a Jokester and lives for freaking leon out because he’s so obviously very nervous lmao.

what their names are in each other’s phones leon’s phone has cassie as “cassidy 🖤”. cassie has him in her phone just as “baby”. bonus she has his name in her phone the few days after they decide to have a kid as “sperm donor”. leon goes “cassie” in his disappointed voice and she rolls her eyes and finally changes it.

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? ) at the moment just their friday movie nights and whenever they go out of country on a mission they buy a magnet for their fridge!

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first leon usually falls asleep first and wakes up first. cassie usually stays up late on her laptop researching and writing.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon leon is big spoon 80% of the time but he likes to be jetpacked too!

who hogs the bathroom leon after he gets back from a really gross ass mission takes hours but cassie usually hogs it day to day.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside cassie flips out and leon gets a cup and a piece of paper, puts the little guy outside. there have been multiple occasions where it sounded like cassie was in legit danger and leon came skidding into the bathroom only to find cassie standing on the toilet.

#chuckhansen #asks #PHEW #thank you so much you guys <333333 #this helped me a lot with them tbh #ship: conflict of interest

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mimiswitchywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Not A Burden: Chapter 8

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering).

period typical h***ph*bia

Master list or read on AO3

2.6k words

If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!

Hardly proof read this one so apologies if that's obvious. Going to take a week break from this because I am STRESSED atm and this is just a passion project.

------------

Miriam awoke to Merlin’s face, barely an inch from hers. He was poking her arm with the cheeky grin of a toddler that has just done something it knows it shouldn’t have done. She rolled her eyes and turned her head, trying to go back to sleep.

The poking got worse. It migrated to her back and her neck and her forehead until she snapped, grabbing his wrist, and yanking so hard that he ended sprawled on the stone floor with a groan.

“What the fuck, Miriam?”

“What the fuck yourself, Merlin. How did you not expect poking someone to end badly for you?” came her muffled voice, face still in the pillow.

He groaned again, rubbing his cheek which had taken most of the impact. He was sure it would bruise and not so sure he would want to explain it to anyone. He would never live it down with Arthur. Miriam pushed herself up, so she was sitting, and then leant down to lift Merlin up. He leant his back against the cot so his head was in line with her knees (he kept an eye on them in case she went to knee him in the face – he wouldn’t put it past her while in her ‘just woken up’ grump). She took his chin gently and moved his head round to face her. Her thumb grazed the quickly reddening mark and she frowned.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you that hard.” He shrugged in response, trying to remember which book he had read about a spell for healing small wounds such as bruises. “What are you after?”

“I spoke to Lancelot during training this morning and he mentioned getting you a job in the kitchens and I said I’d handle it for him, seeing as I am already part of the staff and Cook sort of trusts me.” She nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He looked at he expectantly. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Shall we go?”

She kept looking at him, brow cocked in confusion.

“To the kitchens? Getting you a job?” Her eyes opened wide, and mouth dropped along with the penny.

“You mean now?” He nodded, rolling his eyes cheekily. She stood, looking down at the dress that she had been in since last night. The other one still hadn’t been washed.

“Can I borrow some clothes? And I should wash quickly, and maybe do something with my hair? How does it look?” She turned around, hands flapping with anxiety. He laughed, standing up and gripping her arms to still her. He bent down a little to lock eyes with her, “You look perfect, it’s okay. There’s a bowl of fresh water on the stool by the fireplace and I’ll put some clothes on my bed for you. Hurry up.” She nodded, rushing over to the water as he went to his room.

The pair stood outside the kitchens in silence. Merlin leant against the wall as he watched Miriam pace back and forth, biting her thumb and jumping with flapping hands every so often. She a pair of his trousers with rolled up cuffs, and his spare bed shirt with a thick belt to pull her waist in. Her hair was in its fourth style: a braid that was balled up with leather cord at the base of her neck. She had nervously fiddled with the front of her hair and so a few strands had come loose but Merlin thought it was cute (he didn’t dare tell her or she would have started the cycle of brushing and pulling it into place all over again.)

The door opened and George strode out with plates and a goblet balanced across his arms. He was the epitome of grace but still looked like too much of a snob for Merlin to appreciate it. The slam of wood against wood shocked Miriam back to reality. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this. No, I think it’s actually a really bad idea and I’ve never worked in a castle before, let alone one as big and as important as this and I could poison the King! I have the power to do that! And you know what, if Arthur annoyed me again, I can’t say I wouldn’t so really, it’s best if I don’t go in there. Let’s go.” She turned on her heel, heading down the corridor. Merlin watched on, amused smile gracing his lips.

She turned abruptly, serious look on her face, and made her way back. “I am a really good baker though and I do mostly like Arthur now so it would be nice to make him something as thanks for helping me through the castle last night.” Merlin shook his head at this, still a little peeved at his awakening that morning. Noticing Miriam’s face drop as she prepared to go on yet another self-doubting monologue, he jumped in.

“You’ll be great, and Cook will keep a close eye on you for a while and Arthur had tasters to make sure no one poisons him, it’s okay.”

“He does?”

“Well sometimes, usually it’s me pinching a few bits before I get to his chambers but- “

“Oh gods, I’ll poison you! Arthur and Gaius kill me!”

“You’re not going to poison anyone, okay?” she nodded, eyes still frantic. He took a deep breath, motioning for her to copy. “Now, lets go talk to Cook, okay?” She nodded again, calmer now. He put his arm behind her back, careful to not actually touch her as he had no desire to have a repeat of earlier and lead her through the door.

Inside, Cook was shouting at some young boy that was covered in broth from head to toe. There was a large saucepan on the floor with its content covering almost the whole back corner of the room. “-insolent child, stealing our good Kings food and ruining it for the rest of the staff! Do you want to ruin our hard work, is that it?” Miriam paled. The boy shook his head, close to tears. Cook sighed and gestured to the door, reaching for a clean saucepan when he didn’t move.

Merlin cleared his throat.

“Merlin! What are you after now?” She sounded frustrated still, but the corner of her mouth was curled up into a smile.

“This,” he waved his hands in Miriam’s direction, “Is Miriam. She is new in Camelot and maybe also new in your kitchens…? I can confirm that she does not steal food, very good at that, really.” He smiled his most charming smile, flashing his teeth a little. Cook rolled her eyes, beckoning Miriam over.

She stumbled over her own feet a little before coming to a stop, about a meter away from Cook and the saucepan she was still waving around. “What do you think you can offer me that I don’t already have, little girl?” She took a step forward with each word, ending far too into Miriam’s personal bubble.

“Saffron cake?” She shook her head, face evolving into something more confident as she thought about the foods she had mastered over the years. “And mince pies – a special recipe with fruit instead of meat – and the best bloody bread you’ve ever tasted. Even cut it into shapes and I know I could bake it into the Pendragon crest if you let me. Ma’am.” She tacked on, dropping into a small curtsy with head bowed.

The trio stood in silence before Cook broke it, belting a laugh that made the whole kitchen turn to watch them. She slapped Miriam’s arm in a friendly manner, the girl bracing herself so not to go sprawling. “Quite something, aren’t you, girl? ‘Ma’am’, well I never.” She shook her head turning in a circle to look at their crowd. With a wave of her hand, everyone went back to work. “You after pay?”

Miriam turned to Merlin who nodded.

“Well, you can work here for the week so I can get a judge of ya, and then we’ll go about pay with the Steward, ’ight?” Miriam’s face split into a smile, the widest she had since arriving in Camelot, and she tripped over thanks. “Not to worry, love. Now, Merlin, the Kings food is on the side there, but I better not hear no more about you pinching bits or I’ll have your head, you ‘ear me?” She lifted the pan above her head and Miriam could tell that she was a genuine threat with it. Merlin’s eyes widened and smile dropped. He nodded quickly, picking up the plate and rushing out the room.

Cook lowered the saucepan, looking to Miriam again.

“You want to start now? The name is Bea by the way, but you’ll call me only call me that when you’re off shift, ‘ight?” Miriam nodded and Bea threw her an apron. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.”

Miriam made her way to the courtyard after what felt like the longest shift of her life, covered in flour and a few splashes of egg that the girl next to her had accidentally spilt. She found her way with only two wrong turns (one of which led to a cupboard which rattled and seemed to be moaning; Miri turned and left quickly). The sun was beginning to set, the grounds getting chilly quickly. She rubbed her arms through Merlin’s shirt and began to wander across the cobbles. She got lost in her thoughts, playing through the day she’d had in the castle kitchens. Bea was very sweet, even if she did put up a defensive exterior. She praised Miriam’s work, taking a few items to eat herself which made Miriam smile.

She could see herself working in those kitchens and hoped that Bea and the Steward would let her.

Miriam was pulled from her thoughts when a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun round, pulling herself away, to face Gwen.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you!” Gwen’s face drained, worried for Miriam. The latter laughed, hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.

“It’s okay, I was lost in my head.”

Gwen nodded, colour returning to those beautiful cheeks of hers. She stuck her arm out and the new girl took her elbow. They set off, not really going anywhere.

“You began working in the kitchens today, didn’t you?”

Miriam nodded, “It wasn’t paid but yes, Lancelot and Merlin arranged it for me.” Her face split into a grin, the widest Gwen had seen from her since arriving a week ago. “I think Bea liked me, she certainly took a few of my cakes!” They laughed, Miriam tentatively placing her spare hand on Gwen’s shoulder and giving her an affectionate squeeze.

Breathing hitching, Gwen forced her mouth to listen to her brain. “That was sweet of them, you must really appreciate Lancelot for doing that?” She hoped the desperation wasn’t clear in her voice. Miriam mulled the question over for a second, trying to figure out the best wording.

“I am grateful that he helped get me a job, especially baking, but I fear he did it for his own gain to some degree.” When Gwen didn’t reply, she continued. “He made us a little picnic to have at midnight last night with food I think he stole from the kitchens, and there were beautiful candles and we stayed out until sunrise and, I am less sure about this part, when we got back to Gaius’ chambers, I think he was going to kiss me.” Gwen gasped, heart dropping and an uncomfortable feeling bubbling.

“What happened?”

Miri giggled thinking about it, “Merlin came rushing out and practically toppled me down the stairs! He was barely dressed, poor boy, and was on his way to search the castle for me because he and Gaius thought I had gone missing!” Gwen burst out laughing, the bubbling feeling calming down.

“That does sound like our Merlin.”

They continued in silence, just appreciating each other’s company. They made their way closer to each other, shoulders brushing together occasionally. Miriam looked away from Gwen so the girl wouldn’t see how her cheeks were reddening.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t been interrupted? Would – would you have kissed him back?” Gwen cringed at the stutter in her voice, hoping to all the gods that she wouldn’t notice.

“I truly don’t know. Pushed him away I guess, I certainly wouldn’t have reciprocated.” Gwen couldn’t help the way she smiled at this, walking with more of a bounce in her step. “What about you, what would you do if he tried to kiss you? He certainly isn’t ugly.”

Gwen stopped, turning to face Miriam. “He has already tried. We were somewhat courting once upon a time.” Miri’s face dropped, she looked back at the castle, fiddling with the cuff of her too big sleaves.

“Oh.” She tried to form the rest of the sentence but couldn’t, all she could picture was Lancelot pressing Gwen against a wall, mouth traveling down her exposed neck.

“It was short lived; we didn’t work out. He wants someone to love him with all their heart and I couldn’t bring myself to do that. He was mighty kind about it all though. He’s a good man, one of the best I know, but not made for me.”

“Have you met the man that is made for you, yet?”

Gwen took Miriam’s arm again, walking further towards the lower town. “Sometimes I think there isn’t a man for me. Not that there is no one that will love me – I know there is, what’s not to like about me?” They giggled but Miriam couldn’t help but list all the things she already loved about the girl, even if they had known each other barely a week. “But I have been with two men now, truly been with them if you understand, and something feels wrong about it. I can’t believe that a man exists that would make me feel otherwise.”

Miris mouth worked before her brain could process what she was saying, “Maybe there is a woman that exists that could satisfy you as they can’t.” She slapped her hands over her lips, eyes wide in shock. Gwen choked on her breath, both blushing furiously. “I am so sorry; I shouldn’t have suggested something as – as vile as that.” For a second Miriam thought Gwen’s face dropped in disappointment, but it was back to normal too quick to be sure. “I’m sorry, I have had such a long day in the kitchens, I should make my way back home now. It was lovely to see you.” She pulled her arm from where they had been connected, and turned on her heel, heading back up town. She waved over her shoulder, “bye Gwen!”

Miriam made it back to Gaius’ chambers before letting herself think about what she had just done. Merlin was sat at the table, reading some tome looking book. Miri’s brain was racing so fast that she couldn’t decipher a word as she sat next to him. His head shot up; book slamming shut. He rushed to cover it with some others, stacking them on top of each other before turning to the worn-down girl. Her head hung low, eyes wide and darting round the room, and her lip was beginning to bleed from chewing it so much. She was furiously picking at the skin next to her nail and that turning red raw.

“Miriam?” Merlin lifted her chin to look her over fully. “What’s wrong?”

She threw her arms around him, a soft ‘oof’ slipping past his lips.

“I fucked up everything with Gwen.”

He could do little but rub sympathetic circles on her back.

#merlin x arthur #merthur #merlin fic #Merlin #BBC merlin #Gwen x reader #Queer Gwen #Queer reader #queer characters #Gwen x oc #Queer oc #gwen x lancelot #Lancelot x oc

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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago

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More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

#rainbow six siege #blackbeard #goyo #blackbeard/goyo #thiod #fanfic #this is far from the last time you'll hear from these two #bb is trying so hard #good thing goyo threw him a bone iykwim #this is a hole I didn't expect to fall into

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angelinwhy · 5 years ago

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Almost in Love

Description: after a couple of weeks debating, on a warm Californian night, Y/N was ready to reveal to Harry that she was slowly falling in love with him.

Y/N wasn’t one to sit and just dwell on her thoughts as she let the world pass her by, or let herself fall into a world where she could be herself. Where she could make up her own scenarios and pretend like they are real, and that they exist in the real world - like a child playing with their dolls, or doodling something that is a figurative of their extraordinary imagination. She wasn’t a daydreamer by a long shot, she was merely even a dreamer, but could make the odd exception.

The born and raised Londoner had a pretty standard life, par from the fact that she liked to do a little bit of singing from time to time. Her life had been nothing short of boring when she grew up. Y/N’s family had forced her to take piano lessons (yes she was part of one of those families) and was sent to private school, as that’s where her parents believed she’d get the best education. So, like any child who was raised in a household like that, most believed that she was a stuck up snob, who only cared about herself. Oh how they were so wrong about that. She is naturally just a quiet person, very reserved and would rather sit at home baking or watching a movie, than going out to a party like most of her friends did.

A complete opposite of her boyfriend, Harry, then.

It was a warm February morning, when they had met for the first time, and the two of them hit it off almost instantly. Back in London, she had been playing the piano in a tube station, that had been left purely for the people’s entertainment, and Harry had happened to be waiting for one of the trains to come. And when he heard the amazing sounds of the piano, it was like all he knew and all of his plans had left the window. Or better yet, been carried away by the train, as he had missed it to stop and listen to Y/N play. Once she was done, he had mentioned how in awe he was of her, and she had just blushed and thanked him. Harry had never heard the piano being played so beautifully in all of his life, and better yet, he had never seen a woman so beautiful in all of his life either. Her nose a bit red from a cold, yet, he found her completely breathtaking all the same. Though, he wasn’t going to say that to her face. He didn’t know her right then.

Not wanting her to slip away from him, as he wanted to know more about the mysterious piano player, he had asked her out for coffee at his favourite little cafe down in Soho. They sat at a table in the corner, in their own little bubble, and got to know each other over a flat white and a hot chocolate. Harry hated to admit it, because he had only just met her, but he had found her completely infatuating. From the way she spoke so effortlessly about her life, to how she winced when her got chocolate burnt her tongue, as she had tried to drink it before it had cooled slightly. He never let himself fall so easily, plus they had only met that morning, yet there was something about her that made him way to stick around with her for the rest of the day. But, he was already late, so he had left her, but not before putting his number in to her phone, so they could arrange to meet up again.

From then it went to little meet-ups in cafes, to the two of them chilling at each other’s houses. Harry had told her about his profession, as it was better for her to find out sooner instead of later, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much, and she loved that he sung. She had made him sing one of his songs for her, and after going through the track list for ‘Harry Styles’, and Harry telling her what the song was like, she had picked From the Dining Table. She was in awe of his voice, and it all made sense - perfect voice to match an even more perfect man.

A couple of months later, and it may seem quick to some, the two of them had started dating. It was a mutual thing, them both falling head over heels fast, and just wanting to be around each other all the time. The paparazzi and media had an absolute field day, the day where they were spotted in Kensington. All of the pictures got out online, and fans speculated pretty quickly, and that scared Y/N because they are so overprotective of Harry, but they had settled down once they realised Harry had found someone good for him. And that’s all they wanted for him. They were both extremely happy, being with each other. All of the little kisses they shared when no one was looking at them, Harry’s snide, sexual comments that still make Y/N go bright red in the face, and the way she would play the piano as he sang along to the sound. It was a complete match made in heaven.

Now, 7 months down the line and their relationship had only gotten stronger.

The two of them were now in Harry’s residence in California, and had been for a couple of days. He had been busy filming with James for the Late Late Show and doing an interview with Zane. And whilst doing all of that, Y/N had been scratching about on her own, with her own thoughts.

She sits on one the benches outside, her elbows on the table next to it so she can keep herself steady as she stares out onto the gorgeous view in front of her. It was slowly getting darker, and the sky had gone an amazing mix of purple and orange, which was a nice contrast against the inviting sea, where waves rolled. Y/N had been sitting out here alone for a while now, as Harry was inside napping due to his busy day, so she had been trying to write out her thoughts down onto paper. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a lot on her mind and when alone, she had to let those thoughts in before she went bonkers.

And the main thought was : am I in love with Harry?

It had been on her mind for about a week now, and it seemed to be the only thing that her bloody mind was able to focus on, even though there was so many exciting things going on around her. She knew that he had caught her in a deep daydream as she dwells on that really scary thought, and when asked what’s wrong, she just merely brushes it off and tells Harry that she’s fine. But love to her, was this huge, scary thing that could completely take over your life, and it was hard for her to think about the fact that she might be in love with Harry. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to love him, because just thinking about how it would all be when she is excites her, it’s the more the fact that she’s never been in love before.

Love was never something she thought about, until she met Harry. Sure, she had seen movies such as The Notebook (only because of Harry), and loved the way it was portrayed, but to her it set unreal standards about what love is actually like. Most girls who are young, and quite possibly naive, will grow up thinking that boys will fall at their feet and basically beg them to be in love with them. But she had learnt that the hard way. No boys had ever shown interest in her, they always cared more for her friends who, to Y/N at least, were much prettier and funnier than she was. That’s what she thought anyways. Her two older siblings were also very lucky when it came to being in relationships, and it always made Y/N wonder if there was something wrong with me. It was just her way of putting herself down, as someone was yet to tell her that she was good enough and deserved better.

She was scared to be in love with Harry, because what if it isn’t what she was expecting?

“Fucks sake,” she mumbles in annoyance as she tears out the page in her book, yet another letter that had been screwed up because she couldn’t think of the right words to say. It wasn’t like anyone was going to read the letters, but she feels like she owes it to herself to find a way to get her feelings out.

As she goes to flip over the page, a hand reaches over her shoulder and grabs a grape from the bowl of fruit, that she had set out as a snack. She tilts her head back, to see Harry standing above her as he eats the slightly sour fruit. He leans down and pecks her forehead, holding the sides of her head with his large and ring clad hands. “Y’alright, my love?” She would never get tired of the endless amount of pet names that he had for her, and the way he says them all. Y/N nods her head as he takes a seat in front of her, his hands resting in his lap.

“You feel better after your nap?” She asks softly as she gathers up the screwed up balls of paper.

“Yeah,” Harry nods as he stretches. “Probably won’t go down as easy tonight, so if I’m not in bed during the night then don’t be worried. I’ll more than likely be in the living room watching the TV or something.”

A habit resurfaces, as Y/N reaches out and grabs one of Harry’s hands, pulling it closer to her so she can play with the beautiful rings that were on his fingers. Her eyes admire the beautiful blue and pink that had been painted on his nails, and her heart gets happy when she remembers that they’re the colours of Fine Line. Harry watches her gently, his eyes soft as he takes in her actions, and she twiddles the rings on his fingers, playing with them and just admiring them all together. It was something she did when she didn’t have much to say, or was trying to distract herself from certain situations. This was something Harry had noticed earlier on in their relationship, when they had been out for a meal and the fans swarmed them, and she had got nervous. Right away, she had went for his hand to play with the rings to calm herself.

Harry knew that there was something up with her, as he could pratically read her like a book. To most their relationship was still pretty fresh and knew, but a lot of the time, Harry likes to think that he knows Y/N a lot better than she thinks he does.

“What’s with all the paper?” He asks, nodding his head at the pad, and all of the screwed up balls.

Y/N chuckles softly as she looks at them, her hands still playing with Harry’s rings. He did love that about her. She almost felt pathetic, telling Harry why she had the notebook out and why it looked like a scene out of Horrid Henry where he couldn’t do his work properly, so he screwed up the paper. “I thought that because you’ve been out a lot, it would be good for me to take some time to myself to kind of figure out some things that are going on in my head, that being said, writing out thoughts was like my first idea of how to vocalise how I’m feeling. Turns out, it isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be, it doesn’t flow naturally. It just comes out as a hot mess, if I’m being completely honest,” she laughs it off, feeling stupid.

“What’s been on your mind?” He simply asks.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she looks at him, “this and that. It isn’t much to worry about though.”

“You can talk to me, Y/N, y’know?”

As her fingers still mess about with his rings, she looks at him through her eyelashes, trying to distract herself and divert her mind so she didn’t have to speak to Harry about what was going on with her, as she was worried that a talk about love would scare him off. Although she was battling her own thoughts about whether she was in love with Harry or not, she would also worried about he would take it when the time came for them to say those three meaningful words. Y/N was more scared of the rejection, that he would tell her that he doesn’t love her.

But, what she didn’t know, was that Harry was in love with her already, she just didn’t have a clue because she wasn’t able to recognise the signs. Harry wasn’t one to love easily, it took him time because he had to look for the warning signs before letting himself fall all in a girl. There was no warning signs with Y/N, it was as simple as that. In an interview, when he was asked about to knowing when you had met the right one for you, his response was ‘when you know, you know’. And that’s how it was with Y/N. Ever since he had met her, Harry has had this gut feeling that she’s the one he is meant to be with, that she is the one he will spend the rest of his life with. He had never felt so strongly about someone before, and him falling in love with her so quickly was proving his point that she was the one for him. She’s the one he’s going to keep around. She’s the one who he’s in love with.

It had all started a month ago when they were back at her little, yet cosy apartment in London where the two of them spent the most of their time. She has a grand piano, and they had decided to sit on the bench together and play. Well, she would play and he would sing along, and their song of choice was Ruth B’s ‘Don’t Dissapoint Me’. A beautiful song about being in love, but not wanting to be let down by your other half, in case the feeling of love wasn’t mutual on their part, so you had to make sure they weren’t going to disappoint you. She had played and despite not knowing all of the words off by heart, Harry sang along.

Then, for a split second he stopped singing and she carried on playing. It was like a scene out of a movie when he turned to look at her, and she glanced at him with a huge smile on his face. That’s when he had realised that he was in love with her, and although it was pretty scary for him, he was ready to take the plunge, no matter how deep the water was.

“Y/N?”

She snaps out of her thoughts, as she had just been staring into the abyss as he hands mindlessly moved Harry’s rings about, taking them off his fingers and then sliding them back on. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” He muses, reaching out to tap her forehead with his finger. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, I might be able to help.”

“Love,” she tells him simply.

Harry’s brows furrow again. “Love?”

Yes, Harry. Love. Y/N nods her head, letting her hand slip into Harry’s big one, and he holds her little one gently, like if he added any more pressure it’d shatter like glass does. His thumb rubs over the back of her hand, in a more soothing manner, and she looks down at their intertwined hands and smiles a little. It had never really occurred to her, all of the little things Harry does to/with her, that are so simple yet mean so much. She always wondered how she had found someone like Harry, and why he stuck around. “If I’m going to be honest, it’s all that I’ve been thinking about over the last couple of weeks. When we talked, it’s all I thought about it, when you were sleeping and I couldn’t, it’s because that was keeping me awake. It shouldn’t even be a big deal, but to me it is and I do not know why. You know what I’m like, I overthink all of the things that I dwell on, and love just happens to be one of those things I overthink, unfortunately.”

“Is it that you’re scared of it? Because it’s a pretty big thing, so if you do then I understand,” he tells her but she shakes her head with a small smile.

Y/N laughs lightly. “More like if I’m in it? Is that the correct way to say it.” The then questions herself.

“You think you’re in love?”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell over the two of them, and it was a nice and comfortable silence, as they both took in their quick chat. Y/N watches Harry as he looks around his back garden, the wind ruffling his mop of brown and fluffy curls. One of her favourite things to do was run her hands through his hair. When they were cuddling, kissing, or just simply laying on the couch, his head in her lap as they watched whatever show they liked. Harry loved the feeling of her playing with his hair, it was enough to make him fall asleep wherever he was. He looks back to her, and his green eyes catch the light of the setting sun, making him look even more gorgeous then he already is. “Who do you think that you’re in love with?” Harry asks stupidly, like it wasn’t already so obvious that it was him she might love.

She shrugs as she runs her spare hand through her hair. “Timothée Chalamet.”

“Ah,” he hums, “like every other girl on the planet.”

Y/N laughs a little as Harry smiles at hed. He knew that she was joking, but she did have a crush on Timothée. Who wouldn’t?

Suddenly, Harry grabs her legs and pulls her forward, making her squeal in shock. Then she was sitting right in front of him, their faces level. “Now, I want you to tell me what’s actually going on in that head of yours. Okay?” He hums, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she nods her head with a smile.

“I honestly don’t know where to start,” she explains as her hands reach out to play with the hem of his hoodie, that was a deep blue colour. “I guess the first thing I could say is that I’m pretty confused about all of this love stuff, because I don’t know how to notice or identify a feeling that I’ve never felt before, like I don’t know the signs, nor do I know what something like that is supposed to feel like. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t spoke to Gem and your mum and couple of times to see if they could help me, to see if they were able to give me some guidance or advice. Your mum said something along the lines of ‘don’t overthink it, when you’re in love then you’ll know straight away’. Gemma told me the same thing, that thinking about it too much would only make matters worse, it would only make me more stressed and confused about it. But you know me, overthinking central right here.”

“Sure, I love people, such as my mum and that, but I’ve never been in love, y’know?” She pauses for a moment to look at Harry, and he nods his head. “It is scary to me, because it’s like giving your all to one person, and knowing that you may not get the same in return. I think rejection scares me the most, as being in love in someone in clearly a big thing, so like what if I tell the person, but those feelings aren’t reciprocated? If that makes sense,” she rants to him.

Harry nods. “It makes perfect sense, bab. But love is this thing that has no boundaries, and you cannot be scared of it because at the end of the day, you’re in love with someone and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Yeah, it’s a big thing - it’s like jumping into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim, so the best thing you can do is try to float, until you learn to swim. Or in this case, figure out love and how to handle it in the correct way. I’ve been in love before, I have. Trust me, it broke me to pieces but it is one of the best things ever. You’re all for this one person, and only them, and you’ll find yourself thinking of them all of the time. It’s like they decided to fill that vacant space between your ears and start living there. Of course you’ll be scared, it’s love. It’s one of the biggest feelings a person can have, even if you have never felt it before, which I guess is one of the scariest parts about being in love with someone.”

“What is love to you? Like how would you describe it to someone whose never felt an emotion like that before?” She asks, looking at him like he had hung the moon and the stars.

“I don’t think I have the words to explain a feeling like that, because it’s so different for everyone,” he tells her as she watches him, hanging onto every single word that rolls out of his mouth. She could listen to his voice for hours on end. “But to me, it’s like a good and yearning ache in your heart and soul for that one person, even when they are around. Because when they aren’t around you’ll find yourself thinking about them all the fucking time. But it’s good, it’s really good. Just knowing that you’ve matched yourself to this one person is exciting, yet extremely terrifying at the same time because it’s like ‘hey you, I’m going to give my all to you and I hope you accept it, because if you don’t you’ll break my heart’,” Y/N chuckles lightly at Harry’s tone, and he smiles down at her. “It’ll make sense when you feel it, trust me on that one Y/N.”

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his stubbly cheek, which makes him smile wider as he leans his head into her palm. “That’s beautiful, Haz.”

“It’s like my mum said, when it happens you’ll know. It’s just one of those instinct things,” Harry tells her.

She then leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest. Harry’s arms wrap around her shoulders and her holds her close, and tightly so she felt comfortable. Y/N then let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding in the whole time her and Harry were talking to each other. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and drags his fingers up and down her back to soothe her. They still hadn’t got the bottom of what they needed to speak about, that was only the start and there was still a little bit more to come. Y/N was just too scared to tell him what was really wrong.

All of this was now calming for them. As their were both silent, they were able to hear the wind brushing through the branches on the trees, and the waves crashing against the sand. The occasional car going past the front of the house, and the odd bird singing it’s song in one of the trees, or a helicopter whirring overhead. Both Harry and Y/N longed for moments like these ones, where it felt like nothing else mattered because they had each other, and that’s all they needed. Just the simplicity of being able to sit in each other’s arms and not say a word, instead just enjoying each other’s company, was their favourite. It was a common occurrence, on most of Harry’s days off they’d just cuddle on the couch, or sleep in bed. All the little things that mattered so much. It really is special to the both of them. It meant so much.

“Why did you ask me all of that?” Harry breaks the silence with his question.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and sighs, “because I think I might be falling in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harry’s face falls.

“No, no!” She quickly says, realising the ‘I don’t know what to do’ sounds bad. “I mean that I don’t know how to handle it or go about something like this, as I’m not really sure if I am in love with you yet. I’m a bit scared.”

“You don’t need to be scared, bab,” he laughs gently at her, now his turn to hold her face in an endearing way, and also to keep her calm because clearly this isn’t easy for her. “It’s hard, I know. Trust me the first time I was in love with someone it was a mess due to me not knowing how to handle an emotion like that, sometimes I look back at it and laugh about how stupid I was. But you don’t need to be scared. Shit like this comes naturally and it isn’t something that you need to dwell on, or stress yourself out about. It’s a big thing, I know, but it’ll make sense soon. You just need to let it happen, because the more you think on it, the more you’ll confuse yourself because your mind will keep on telling you different things. I know you’ve never been in love before, that’s why you need to just let things happen, instead of using all of your thoughts to force these feelings out, okay?”

She groans as she tilts her head back, Harry holding on to her arms so she doesn’t topple back and fall off the bench. “It’s so hard to not think about though.”

“I know, bab. I know. But trust me it’s so much better for yourself if you don’t overthink it.”

A sigh leaves her mouth. “I know I’m not in love with you yet…”

Harry nods.

“But I know that it’s gonna happen soon, y’know. Like just because I know I’m not in love with you just yet. doesn’t mean I can’t feel myself falling in love with you.”

It was as simple as that. Although she knew that she wasn’t in love with Harry yet, and that it could take some time before those feelings were true and she is able to express them, she couldn’t deny the fact that she could feel herself falling in love with him. She didn’t know much about love, but knew enough to know that it’s completely different for a silly little crush like a school girl would have. She was scared, scared of what Harry would say the day she is able to say ‘I love you’ to him (he’s going to say it back), and she’s worried for that. But just knowing that she has him by her side, is enough for her because he’s so good to her. So, so good. Harry’s in love with her, but he wasn’t going to tell her so until she’s ready. He thinks that if he tells her now, it’s going to put some pressure on her to say the same back, so he doesn’t want to do that. He’s going to wait until she’s ready.

“Promise me something,” he says to her.

She hums. “What?”

“That when we go back to London, we can go back to the tube station where we met and play the piano then go home and have spaghetti for dinner,” he tells her, and she laughs.

“Seriously?!” She giggles loudly. Harry laughs with her. “Here I was, thinking that you were going say something romantic like ‘please don’t ever leave me’ or ‘promise be you’ll always be around’, but no! You want to play the piano and eat spaghetti,” she gasps jokingly as she gets up from her chair and grabs her bowl and notebook, throwing one of the paper balls at Harry’s head. He chuckles as he gets up from his chair, and follows her through the patio doors and into the beautiful house.

“Babe,” he whines like a child. “Promise me you’ll always be around.”

Y/N turns around with a soft look on her face, her items now on the countertop. She walks over to the man she’s falling in love with and puts one hand on his face, and the other around his shoulder. She leans in, their lips barely brushing over each other, and Harry smiles as he snakes an arm around her waist. She goes to kiss him, but just as their lips touch, she smiles cheekily at him, patting him on the chest.

“Nah, I belong to Timothée now.”

“You little shit.”

#why do i love this so much #sorry that the ending is a little scruffy #i didnt really know how to end it lmao #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles

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lilyvandersteen · 5 years ago

Text

Out of the Blue: Chapter 5

Cover art: @redheadgleek

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage

Author’s Note:

For Halloween, Kurt dresses up as Loki, and Blaine as Gaston. Are you drooling yet? You're welcome!

Chapter 5: Halloween Party

“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

Not even five minutes after his tirade, Blaine felt like a crushed cockroach.

Without so much as raising his voice, Kurt had torn apart Blaine’s whole reasoning and proved to him that he’d been completely wrong in attacking the brides.

Blaine had ruined the atmosphere and perhaps the entire wedding by throwing a tantrum like a sleep-deprived toddler.

Well, the sleep deprivation fits… Still, I’m old enough to deal with that issue in a more mature way!

Cooper, bless him, did his best to smooth things over, but Kurt wasn’t having it, addressing Blaine again and defending his choice to plan a wedding for his friends.

A silly romantic, is he? Me too. But now he’ll certainly never give me the time of day. Still. I should apologise.

So apologise Blaine did, but Kurt’s eyes flashed in a way that showed he wasn’t forgiven yet. He would need to grovel.

When Cooper put on the charm again and flirted with Kurt, the both of them whispering conspiratorially and winking, Blaine’s heart sank straight into his shoes.

Yeah, Kurt was out of his league. Totally. He didn’t even make a blip on Kurt’s radar.

But he had something to make up for, so he allowed himself only the briefest wallow in self-pity before he went to help Kurt out with clearing the tables and doing the dishes.

Kurt seemed surprised he would stoop to that, and Blaine cursed himself for his outburst. Now Kurt and his friends would think he was a total snob!

There was nothing to do but try to repair the damage, so Blaine washed dishes diligently, humming Frank Sinatra under his breath as he worked and stealing glances at Kurt whenever he dared.

By the time they were done, Kurt had thawed out a little, and offered Blaine another piece of cake as thanks for his help. Well, he was not going to say no to that!

They moved to the sofa with their plate, Blaine praising the cake to the high heavens, and Kurt smiling at him and offering to share the recipe.

Blaine’s cake was soon gone, and he looked towards Kurt to take his plate, too, and bring it to the kitchen.

But Kurt’s cake wasn’t finished. There was still a piece on his fork, and a bigger piece on his plate, which was teetering off his lap, in danger of falling. And Kurt? Kurt was fast asleep, his head lolling to the side and his expression serene.

Blaine smiled at him, and then carefully took away Kurt’s plate and fork.

Kurt snuffled and turned, his arm flinging over Blaine’s belly and his head landing half on Blaine’s arm and half on his chest.

Blaine froze for a moment, and then stretched out his free arm to put the plates and forks on the coffee table. When that was done, he curled his arm protectively around Kurt, to keep him from falling off the sofa if he turned around again, and then just basked in the moment.

With his mouth half open and a thin line of drool making its way down his chin, Kurt was still no less than stunning. And he didn’t only look good, he also smelled divine. His cologne was woodsy, with a slight hint of something sweet. What was it?

Blaine sniffed surreptitiously. Vanilla. Yes. Probably because Kurt had done the baking for the wedding.

Kurt smacked his lips and slid his head a bit further onto Blaine’s pecs, making a soft purring noise that made Blaine melt.

There was no-one in the loft but them at the moment, so Blaine didn’t feel any qualms about letting Kurt sleep all cuddled up to him. What wouldn’t he give to have a man like this for real… To get to sleep with him tucked into his side, or spooning him…

Blaine must have fallen asleep picturing a life with Kurt by his side, because the next thing he knew, his brother was shaking him awake and telling him that it was time to go.

Still half asleep, Blaine griped at Coop, and then remembered he had to be quiet for Kurt, who was asleep next to him.

Too late… He’d already woken him up with his whining. Well, maybe that was a good thing, seeing as Kurt could now move to his bed.

But apparently, Kurt slept on the sofa whenever Santana had Brittany over. Huh? They didn’t have beds for everyone living here? Oh, they were saving up for it?

Blaine frowned, and before he could stop to think, he’d blurted out that it was silly of the newlyweds to ask for an expensive pet pavilion when they didn’t even have basic necessities like a bed.

Kurt seemed suitably chagrined about that, and explained that the idiotic cat stuff had all been Brittany’s idea. He told Coop to cancel the order. “We’ve been feeling awful about that.”

Blaine’s mouth ran away with him again, and he wondered out loud how the newlyweds had been able to afford the wedding.

Kurt looked murder again, and no wonder. Blaine REALLY shouldn’t have said that.

Still, Kurt explained how they had managed. Basically, he’d worked his ass off to give his friends the wedding of their dreams. No wonder he’d fallen asleep just now. He probably hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Blaine envied the brides that they had such a fierce and loyal friend.

Kurt’s eyes flashed when Blaine gave him nothing but a mute nod in reply to his explanation.

Uh-oh, I’ve messed everything up again. Why couldn’t I have held my tongue?

Cooper came to the rescue again, assuring Kurt that the wedding had been wonderful in every way, that they weren’t to worry about the gifts he’d bought, and that he hoped to see Kurt again soon for another party.

That coaxed a smile out of Kurt, and thawed him enough to shake hands with Blaine as well.

Blaine took the opportunity to apologise again for behaving like an idiot. Kurt’s impassive expression made him slink off with his tail between his legs.

On the way home, Coop berated him for his rudeness. “Seriously, squirt, what was up with you? I could tell you were totally into Kurt, and then you go and say all the wrong things. He’s going to think you’re a total tool!”

Blaine hunched up and mumbled, “I am. And now I’ve ruined my chances with him forever.”

Coop clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey now, don’t be like that. There’s always next time. Kurt promised to invite me again, didn’t he? And I’ll take you as my plus one, and you will pour on that Anderson charm, and he won’t be able to resist you.”

Blaine heaved a sigh that seemed to come straight from his toes.

Did he want to go to another party where Kurt fawned over Coop and paid no attention to him? Yes, he did. Clearly, he loved torturing himself.

K&B

Two months later, Cooper came bounding into the living room yelling, “Guess what?!”

Blaine, who was working for school, was so startled he dropped a book on his toe. “Ow!”

“Guess what, guess what, guess what?”

Cooper danced around the table like a kid who’d eaten too much candy.

“What? You have a hot date and want me out of the house tonight?”

Coop rolled his eyes. “Nope. Try again.”

“You met another celebrity?”

“Nope. Try again.”

Blaine sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Coop, I’ve got no time for this. Just tell me outright, please.”

Coop handed Blaine a card. It showed a black cat lying on a large pumpkin, while three witches were stirring in a kettle nearby. The message read:

“Something wicked this way comes!

Halloween Party at the loft on Friday the 31st of October, starting at 8 p.m.

Dress up like a villain and bring your own booze.”

Blaine frowned at the invitation. What on earth…?

“It’s from Kurt!” Coop beamed. “He invited us to his Halloween party. Awesome, right? You get to see Kurt again! So figure out a good costume, and make sure you’re on your best behavior this time, okay?”

Blaine felt nerves slam into his gut. Yes, he’d be happy to see Kurt again, but would he manage not to make a fool of himself or offend Kurt at this party? Chances of that were slim.

“I was thinking of Dorian Gray.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow at Cooper.

“For my costume, squirt, keep up! I get to wear fancy old duds and look handsome, and all I have to do is put a tiny portrait of myself in my inside pocket, where I’m looking all ugly and aged up, and show it to people asking who I’m supposed to be.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side. “That’s brilliant, actually.”

Cooper bowed and doffed an imaginary hat. “Thank you, thank you. I have my moments.”

“So what are you going to take to the party?” Blaine asked.

“What do you mean?”

“As a gift to the host.”

Coop grabbed the invitation and perused it. “It says to bring your own booze. I’ll bring a nice bottle of whiskey or something.”

Blaine shook his head. “That’s just a waste of money. Students drink to get drunk. Fast. They’re going to down big glasses of your top shelf whiskey in one go without so much as tasting it. You’d better give them something useful. Remember how Santana doesn’t have a bed or even a decent sofa bed?”

“Huh. Right. But wouldn’t they have saved up for it by now?”

Blaine shrugged. “I doubt it. There are always emergencies eating up your savings.”

Cooper gave him a quizzical look. “Yes… That’s true. I know that from my early days in LA. But how would you know that, Mr. Silver Spoon? You’ve never lacked for anything a day in your life.”

Blaine felt his cheeks heat up. “Um… I might have… done some research?”

Now Cooper’s gaze became even more piercing. “You’ve got it bad!”

Blaine looked down. Yes. That was always his curse. He fell for someone instantly. Head over heels. No looking back. That hadn’t ever worked out well. People took advantage of him, and then threw him out like yesterday’s garbage. Telling him he was too intense. Too clingy. Too much.

Not that Kurt would ever give him the time of day, regardless. Last time, he’d been civil to Blaine only for Cooper’s sake.

Still, Blaine wanted to help somehow. He felt so ashamed of what his reactions had been at the wedding. It’s easy to criticize, yes, but it’s far more commendable to stay positive and make the best of the situation you were dealt. Kurt was quite right about that, and Blaine admired him for his pluck. Among other things.

“So what do you suggest? That we have a sofa bed delivered the day of the party, when they’re busy getting everything ready? Or that we bring two delivery men carrying a sofa when we go to the party?”

Blaine laughed at that last suggestion, shook his head and looked up at Cooper beseechingly. “We could bring the sofa bed a few days in advance maybe?”

Coop grinned. “So that you would get to see Kurt twice? I’m on to you, mister!”

Blaine didn’t deny that was his intent.

“Okay, I’ll call and ask if we can go drop it off somewhere this week. All right?”

“All right. Look, this one has a memory foam mattress, and it looks classy.”

Coop got his credit card, sat down next to Blaine and ordered the sofa bed.

Then he called the RSVP number on the Halloween party invitation.

Kurt must have been waiting to hear from Coop, ‘cause he picked up the phone after only three rings, and seemed happy that Coop and Blaine were coming.

When Cooper told Kurt he’d like to give him a decent sofa bed as a host gift, and could he have it dropped off sometime this week, there was silence on Kurt’s end for a while. Then he said, his voice weirdly strangled, “You don’t need to do this. Really. We didn’t ask you to the party because you’re obscenely rich. We asked you because we enjoy your company.”

Coop grinned. “That’s nice to hear. I’m still giving you the sofa bed, seeing as I already bought it. What would be the best day and time for it to be delivered to the loft?”

Kurt took a while to answer. Then he said, slowly, “Seriously, this is not necessary. All our other friends are just bringing some cheap beer or wine. Or even nothing at all, if I know Puck.”

Coop laughed. “I thought of bringing a nice bottle of whiskey, but Blaine said that I had better give you something useful. Always the practical one, my brother.”

Kurt sighed. “The thing is that I don’t want you spending a lot of money on our behalf!”

“Oh, the sofa bed costs far less than the whiskey I wanted to buy,” Cooper reassured Kurt.

From the new prolonged silence, Blaine inferred that Kurt didn’t find this reassuring in the least.

“So, what day would suit you best?” Cooper pressed.

Kurt laughed. It was short, and didn’t sound amused so much as exasperated. “All right, then. If you insist…”

“I do.”

“Then Wednesday would be the best day. In the afternoon. I don’t have class and my shift at the diner doesn’t start until seven.”

“Wednesday at two p.m. it is. See you then!”

“Um… You’ll… You’ll be there, too?”

Coop grinned. “Of course. I need to make sure they bring you the right stuff, and not something substandard because it’s a delivery to somebody else than me. Got cheated once when I bought my mom a brunch basket for Mother’s Day. Half of the things that were supposed to be in the basket were missing. Thank heavens she took a picture and sent it to me. I fixed that soon enough. Nobody pulls the wool over my eyes!”

“Um… All right then. See you on Wednesday. And… Thank you. This is… Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. Looking forward to the party. Will there be pumpkin pie? That’s my favourite.”

Kurt laughed again, but this time it sounded happier. “There will be now! I’ll make sure of it. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Cooper rang off with a huge smile on his face. “And he makes pumpkin pie! You better marry that guy, or I will!”

That resulted in a brotherly scuffle, with Blaine telling Coop to “get his own”.

“Just telling you, squirt! Don’t let this one get away!”

“Not planning on it.”

Coop, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled now, grinned at Blaine. “You have the ring and the house and the dog and the schools for the children picked out already, don’t you?”

Blaine bit his lip. “Maybe.”

Coop threw his head back and laughed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Blaine said sourly.

Coop clapped him on the back. “Hey, don’t be like that. I’ll be the best wingman there ever was, I promise.”

Blaine sighed. “I’m sure he wishes YOU would date him. And marry him. The way he fawned over you last time was just…”

“Discouraging?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll talk you up as much as I can. And I’ll mention that I’m a commitment phobe, shall I?”

Blaine poked Coop in the side. “You are NOT. You’ve just had a couple of bad experiences that have made you wary of commitment, that’s all.”

“Aww, you put that so nicely. Instead of saying that I’m an idiot who can’t tell a gold digger from someone who actually likes me for me. Thanks again for helping me dodge that bullet!”

“Anytime.”

K&B

That Wednesday, Blaine knocked at the door of the loft at precisely two p.m. The truck had arrived five minutes earlier, and two burly men had carried the sofa bed upstairs.

Kurt rolled the door open, dressed to the nines in a black sword print shirt with a white vest on top and very tight black jeans.

Blaine smiled at Kurt. “Delivery for Mr. Hummel.”

“Come on in, sir.”

Blaine’s heart sank into his shoes at the formal reply. Clearly, Kurt hadn’t recognized him.

Kurt turned around and gestured to follow him. The ratty sofa they’d napped on at the wedding was gone, and Kurt had cleared the space all around too.

“He doesn’t even remember you from the wedding,” Coop whispered in Blaine’s ear. “That’s bad!”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I’m aware.”

The delivery men installed the sofa, and then Blaine showed Kurt how to turn it into a bed.

When Kurt thanked him, still overly formal, Coop came up behind Blaine and threw his arm over Blaine’s shoulder. “My little bro knows his stuff, doesn’t he?”

Kurt smiled. “He does. Do you work in the sofa business?”

Blaine looked at Kurt wide-eyed. “Um… No. I’m a student. NYU. Music composition.”

“Oh, me too. A student, that is. I go to NYADA. I want to be on Broadway.”

Blaine grinned. “Let me guess… As the MC for Cabaret? Evan Hansen? Tony from West Side Story?”

Kurt grimaced. “They’d never give me Tony. In high school, I auditioned for that role and I was laughed away. They said I wasn’t manly enough.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side and gave Kurt a slow once-over. “Are they nuts? You look all man to me.”

Kurt’s cheeks coloured, but a small smile showed that he appreciated Blaine’s comment.

“You do,” Coop chimed in. “Look at your cheekbones. And shoulders. Anytime you want to star in an ad of mine, you just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

Kurt’s smile widened. “Really? Santana’s done lots of commercials, but she’s gorgeous, of course.”

“So are you,” Blaine assured him. “Absolutely stunning.”

Kurt side-eyed him.

Uh-oh. Was that too much? Did I put my foot in it again?

Coop nodded. “You are! Just say the word, and you’re in. I have a jeans campaign coming up you’d be perfect for.”

Kurt went back to beaming, and promised to get in touch with Coop for the campaign.

Coop and Blaine left soon after that, telling Kurt they looked forward to attending the party.

Coop whistled happily as Bill drove them back home, but Blaine didn’t know whether to be sad or elated about his second meeting with Kurt.

Kurt hadn’t recognized him, and had fawned over Cooper again. But on the plus side, he had talked to Blaine. Without any snark or bite. And Blaine would be working on the jeans campaign too, so he’d get to see Kurt again, and hopefully make more of an impression.

Blaine sighed, and resolved to try again on Friday. His costume was all sorted out, and he’d made it as sexy as possible. Operation Charm Kurt Hummel was a-go.

K & B

That Friday night, Coop and Blaine followed the noise again to the loft. The door opened to a colourful chaos. The place was packed with people in all sorts of costumes, and a bass was pounding so loud it gave Blaine an instant headache.

A green witch came to greet them. “Welcome, welcome! As you can see, I’m not Rachel Berry today but Elphaba. *Dramatic sigh* My dream role!”

“I’m sure you’d rock it,” Blaine told her, and she beamed as if he’d just made her day.

“Come! Kurt and Santana are here somewhere, I saw them just now… There! Come with me!”

Rachel tucked Blaine’s and Cooper’s arms under her elbows and tugged them towards her roommates.

“San! Kurt! Look who’s here!”

“I told you, Rach, it’s Malificent today,” Santana drawled, and yes, she wore the horned hat and the cloak with the pointy collar, and very red lipstick. Brittany, on her lap, was dressed as Catwoman, and another pretty girl sitting next to them portrayed Poison Ivy.

“Niiiiice!” said Cooper, giving her a once-over.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, now you’re going to ask me what I’m wearing underneath? That’s always the follow-up to ‘Niiice!’ when someone sees my costume.”

Coop threw his head back and laughed. Then he mimed zipping his lips.

Blaine laughed along with his brother, but his chuckle petered out when he took in Kurt. Or should he say Loki? Yep, Kurt was sporting long black locks, a horned helmet and a long Asgardian coat. Its green accents did wonderful things for Kurt’s eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be, anyway?” Santana asked, and Coop got out his Dorian Gray portrait to explain.

She hummed, not very convinced, and then turned to Blaine. “And you are?”

Blaine’s face fell. He’d looked at himself in the mirror before they left and thought his costume was really good and self-explanatory. Wasn’t it?

He looked at Coop uncertainly, and his big brother winked at him and started singing.

“Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Gaston

Looking so down in the dumps

Every guy here'd love to be you, Gaston

Even when taking your lumps”

Rachel laughed delightedly and clapped her hands, and Kurt cracked a smile too.

Blaine beamed at Coop. Now this, he could work with!

Together, the two brothers hammed it up, and by the time they’d finished, they’d drawn quite the crowd. Someone had turned down the music, and everyone was singing along with the refrain, and applauded enthusiastically at the end.

“I didn’t know we were doing karaoke at this party of yours, Kurt!” Rachel said. “But I’m all in favour! Let me go fetch my pair of microphones, and we can sing. I’m Elphaba tonight, so we MUST sing For Good. We sound so good together in that song!”

And off she was.

Santana rolled her eyes and mumbled something like, “There we go again!”

Then, she turned to Kurt, holding her hand out with the palm up. “Pay up, Hummel. I said less than an hour, and it hasn’t even been half an hour!”

Kurt sighed, fished out his wallet and gave her ten dollars.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow.

“We took bets on how long it would take for Rachel to suggest karaoke,” Kurt explained. “I thought – well, hoped – she’d at least wait an hour. But then you guys started to sing, and, well…”

He gestured towards Rachel, who hurried towards them holding the two bedazzled pink microphones Blaine recognized from the wedding.

“I asked Sam and Elliott to set up the stage!” she beamed, and sure enough, a tall guy dressed like Jafar and another dressed like Jaws from James Bond were putting together a small wooden stage.

Rachel tugged Kurt up from the sofa. “Come on, Kurt!”

K&B

Hearing Kurt sing was a revelation. Blaine was sure his jaw was hanging open unattractively, but really, you couldn’t spring something like that on him and expect him to keep his cool.

Kurt was a countertenor! He had a fabulous range, and he and Rachel sounded wonderful together. Blaine clapped until his hands were raw when the duet was finished.

Rachel beamed and curtsied, and was about to sing another song when a friend of hers took the mic from her with the admonishment, “Now, now, Rach, we said no hogging the mic, remember? Give everyone their turn!”

It was the most fun Blaine had ever had at a party. Fun people, stellar food, and karaoke! With people who actually sounded good!

He kept thinking that until a girl called Sugar went on stage to perform. As soon as she opened her mouth, the whole audience cringed. Good heavens, what a hideous singing voice! And she seemed to actually expect praise after her performance!

“Well, that was a very good impression of a velociraptor,” Cooper said loudly. “You’ve got that screech down pat. Maybe stick to the human register next time, though? Give our ears a break?”

Sugar gave him a disdainful sniff and stalked off.

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother, but couldn’t help grinning.

“What? You know I’m right!”

“You are, too!” Santana concurred. “Ugh, she sounds awful. And she didn’t even dress up as a villain!”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “She didn’t? I took her to be Regina from Mean Girls. She’s dressed all in pink, isn’t she?”

Santana shrugged. “Sure, let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. And let’s keep her off the stage from now on!”

Everyone concurred with that, and made sure to ply Sugar with drinks and conversation. When it was Blaine’s turn to talk with her, he found that she always said exactly what she thought. Which was that Cooper was so way more handsome than Blaine that she wondered whether Blaine was adopted.

“We’re half-brothers, really. Cooper has another mom,” Blaine explained. The twitting of his looks stung. Yes, Cooper was more striking, everyone said so, but Blaine had been called good-looking by many people too, so there.

“Aah, that makes sense. So when are you gonna make your move? You’ve been panting after Hummel for hours now!”

“Um… I’m sorry, what?”

“Kurt! Why are you here with me and not chatting him up?”

Blaine eyed her uncertainly.

Sugar flapped her hands at him. “Go, go, go! Shoo!!”

So Blaine obediently drew closer to Kurt, and offered him a drink.

They’d just struck up a conversation about the remake of A Star Is Born starring Lady Gaga, of whom Kurt seemed a big fan, when the music was shut off and a nervous throat-clearing made everyone look towards the stage.

“Mercedes, could you come here please?” the guy dressed up as Jaws asked, and when she did, he sank down to one knee and proposed to her.

Blaine snuck a look at Kurt, who was smiling and tearing up. His face was open and soft, and though he was clearly happy for his friends, there were other emotions at play too: envy, wistfulness, and a bare-faced longing that took Blaine’s breath away.

“You know, I don’t think I’d have the confidence to propose to someone dressed like a terrifying villain,” Blaine remarked off-hand. “I’d be too afraid to be turned down flat.”

Kurt laughed. “Yep, he looks a fright with those metal teeth. And Mercedes still said yes. And is kissing him. It must be true love.”

Blaine stuck close to Kurt from then on, determined to cheer him up again. He even managed to dance with him, though not as closely as he would have wanted. Kurt laughed at Blaine’s dorky moves, but Blaine was buzzed enough by now not to care.

When Cooper came and told him they were going home because he had a photoshoot the following day, Blaine pouted.

“Oh, don’t you use those puppy eyes on me! We’ve already stayed a few hours longer than I intended to, because I saw you were enjoying yourself. But I really want to get some sleep or I’ll mess up the shoot. So say goodbye to your crush and come along, squirt.”

“Never!” Blaine declared grandly.

“All right, then.”

Blaine grinned at his brother stupidly, thinking he’d won himself some time, but then cringed when Coop hollered, “Bye, everyone! Thanks so much for the invite! We had a great time!”

Amid a chorus of byes and see yous, Coop took Blaine by the arm and led him out of the loft and down the stairs, where the town car was already waiting for them at the curb.

They got in fast, Blaine sighing and looking behind him one last time before he closed the car door.

“Well, squirt? When’s the wedding going to be?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me squirt, please. And hold your horses. I’m working on it, okay?”

“Okay. Just don’t wait too long, or you won’t be pretty anymore. Think of the wedding pictures.”

Blaine’s eyes glazed over as he pictured it in his mind. Hmm, Kurt in a grey or black tuxedo, with a sleek silver waistcoat and a white flower corsage, coming towards Blaine or waiting at the altar for him with a glowing smile on his face.

“Hey! Earth to Blaine!”

Coop waved a hand in front of his face.

“What?” Blaine snapped.

“A little less daydreaming and some more action, please. I got you another chance to see Kurt by booking him for that jeans campaign next week, but it’s up to you to grab that opportunity and turn it into a success. Make sure you don’t blow it. Be on your best behavior, and charm the guy’s pants off!”

Blaine saluted Coop cockily. “Aye, aye, sir! Might be hard with those tight jeans he’ll be wearing, but I’ll try!”

Coop rolled his eyes at his tipsy brother. Then his expression softened. “Your man throws good parties, doesn’t he?”

Blaine nodded, grinning. “The best.”

#bbb2020 #blaine big bang 2020 #klaine fanfiction #my fic #out of the blue

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lillianfromaccounting · 6 years ago

Text

Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2. If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it? I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3. Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4. What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5. How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6. Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7. If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8. What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9. If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10. Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12. Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13. If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook

#personal #long post #tagged #this was fun #if only to explain my love of thanksgiving

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whythehandbasket · 6 years ago

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Of Tattoos and Flowers

This is my KuraRyou exchange gift for @alwaysdrowninginfeels

I hope you like it!!!

Ryousuke needs inspiration.

Can he find it in the green haired biker who owns the local flower shop?

“Think, Ryou…,” Ryousuke murmured, tapping his pencil on the pad of paper in front of himself, the lack of well, anything, mocking him. Sighing, he closed his sketchbook and leaned on his elbow, chin on his hand as he looked out the window of his shop.

Second Base tattoo parlor was his baby, his income and his life. He’d built a reputation for quality, personalized tattoos that were guaranteed not to fade with time, each one carefully drawn and colored by himself. The actual tattooing part was just an afterthought for him, his real joy was the before—the art he composed and presented to the client, original and inked to their specifications. He didn’t do skulls or words in foreign languages that meant something much different than intended, he considered those things not worth his time and effort and made no attempts to hide it. His work was personalized and well executed, and his prices and reputation reflected that. This time, though, he was stuck.

Knowing he wasn’t going to get anything done until he found some inspiration, he flipped of his lights and left, locking the door behind himself, heading to somewhere he was sure to find amusement, even if the inspiration wasn’t forthcoming.

Pulling into the parking lot of the Battery Bakery and Coffee Shop, Ryousuke peered through the glass, verifying who was working behind the counter. Yep, there was Haruichi, his little brother, who was working part time while he was in college. Beside him was the resident smartass and coffee expert, Miyuki. Well. He knew he’d at least get a decent cup of coffee and maybe some advice. Climbing out of the car, he strolled through the door, inhaling the familiar smell of coffee and cinnamon.

“Welcome to the…” Haruichi started, cutting off when he looked at the door. “Hi, Aniki! I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

Miyuki looked up from his clipboard when he heard Haruichi’s greeting. “Ahh, it’s the elder Kominato! What can I get for you this afternoon?” Leaning on the counter he spoke softly, motioning Ryousuke near. “I got a shipment of Kona beans in today, was just going to try them out. You in?”

Ryousuke nodded, stepping up to the counter. “I’d love a cup.” He was always happy to drink any of Miyuki’s varied coffee bean acquisitions, knowing how much attention he paid to the origin and roasting. He was a bit of a snob about them and Ryousuke was willing to take advantage of that whenever the opportunity arose.

“What else can we get you?” Haruichi asked as someone popped out of the back of the store.

“Onii-san!” Eijun, the ‘baker’ part of the Battery waved as he bounded forward. “I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“About to be so much better with this coffee,” Ryousuke said, greeting the enthusiastic man with a small smile.

“Ohhhh! I’ve got the perfect thing,” Eijun said. “Give me a second.” He ducked back into the kitchen, returning just as Miyuki set the freshly brewed coffee on the counter. “Here, my newest creation. It should go well with that coffee.”

“What are you even saying?” Miyuki glared at him. “Nobody wants to dilute the taste of good coffee with baked goods; you can’t appreciate the subtle flavors. Save it for the morning traffic who doctor it up with cream and sugar and don’t understand real flavor.”

“Miyuki Kazuya!” Eijun started, laying the plate he’d brought out onto the counter. Ryousuke was intrigued by the cupcake sitting on it. “This is a pineapple cupcake with coconut frosting, all things that are sourced from the same place that coffee is. They’ll go together because they grow together.”

“How does that even make sense?” Miyuki snarked, turning away from his seething boyfriend to take a sip of his coffee. “This is...I’ll have to remember this supplier, I’m impressed.”

“Won’t you even try it?” Eijun asked plaintively after Ryousuke saw Haruichi making a sad face, coaching him.

Miyuki looked at the sad eyes and pout and sighed, surrendering. “I guess I can try a bite. But if it doesn’t—” He stopped in mid-sentence when Eijun let out a whoop and grabbed a knife off the back bar to slice the cake into quarters.

“If this is good, I’m adding it to our regular rotation,” Eijun said, handing a quarter to each of the people there.

Miyuki looked at the cake warily before turning his attention back to his coffee. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I gotta keep the idiot happy.” He popped his cake into his mouth and chewed, swallowing.

“Now try your coffee,” Eijun said.

Miyuki sipped, eyes widening. “You’re...not wrong,” he admitted reluctantly. “That is a good pairing.”

“Toldja,” Eijun crowed. “It’s on the menu tomorrow.”

“That’s really good, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi said after eating his slice.

“Thank you, Harucchi!” Eijun beamed at him.

Ryousuke nodded his agreement. “Very good,” he said. “As is the coffee.”

“Thank you, Onii-san!” Eijun was practically quivering with happiness.

Miyuki poured more coffee in their cups. “I’m sure you didn’t come by just to be a guinea pig for Eijun’s baking experiments,” he said. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Actually, yes,” Ryousuke said. “I find myself in a bit of a quandary with a client of mine, who wants a very specific group of flowers as a tattoo.”

“I didn’t think you did flowers,” Eijun said with a frown.

“I don’t generally...I won’t do sakura or red roses or any of the other clichéd things,” Ryou agreed. “But these are unusual and I was...intrigued when she asked for them.”

“Can’t you just look them up online?” Haruichi asked.

“I’ve done that, but it’s hard to imagine them together,” Ryousuke said.

Eijun’s eyes widened. “Mochi!”

Ryousuke shook his head. “Are you getting another baking inspiration?”

Miyuki laughed, elbowing Eijun. “No, no. We have a friend, Kuramochi, who owns a flower shop. What I think Eijun meant is that you should go there and get a bouquet, that way you can see how the flowers work together.”

Eijun nodded furiously.

“Buy a bouquet?” Ryousuke said, thinking. “That’s not a bad idea, I think that would work.” He smirked at Eijun. “Where would I find this Kuramochi?”

Pulling up to the curb in front of the Shortstop flower shop, Ryousuke eyed the black Harley Davidson parked outside warily. He’d never heard of a biker gang hanging out in a flower shop, but there were stranger things in this world. He climbed out of his car and made his way through the front door. Haruichi seemed to know this Kuramochi person as well and all three of them vouched for him and his flowers.

Stepping through the door, he was assaulted by the smell of fresh flowers, the green of growing plants, and the undertone of decay that comes with anything that’s alive. He looked around curiously, noticing the neat plants in their rows, the buckets of brightly colored flowers in the coolers, a few pre-made bouquets waiting for those in a hurry or who don’t know quite what to choose. He wove his way to the back of the store where a man who was clearly the owner of the bike he’d seen outside was sitting behind a counter, reading the newspaper.

Green hair, black t-shirt and jeans, silver earrings...the last thing he’d expect to see in a flower shop. Maybe this was a biker’s hideout?

The man behind the counter looked up when he stopped, eyes widening in surprise when he sees Ryousuke, who smirked at him.

“With that hair, you’ve got to be Haruichi’s big brother,” the man—Kuramochi, Ryousuke thinks, Kuramochi Youichi—said.

“And if I am?”

“Nothing,” Kuramochi said, shaking his head. “Just finding your place in the world.”

“Kominato Ryousuke,” he introduced himself.

“Kuramochi Youichi,” the other replied. “How can I help you?”

“I need some flowers,” Ryousuke started.

“You came to the right place, then.”

“Good to know,” Ryousuke deadpanned. “I was worried I was in a biker’s hideout.”

“Wait, what?” Kuramochi looked confused, until he noticed Ryousuke staring pointedly at his leather jacket hanging on the wall with his helmet. “Oh! No, I just like to ride. Have you ever been on one?”

“I value my life too much.”

“You should try it, you may like it.”

“I may,” Ryousuke shrugged. “But for now, flowers?”

Kuramochi jumped to his feet, cheeks reddening. “Yes! Of course! What can I get for you?”

“I need orange lilies, yellow carnations and butterfly weed. A black rose if you have it,” Ryousuke recited, not noticing Kuramochi’s ever widening eyes.

“Wow, who pissed you off?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Those flowers. Together, they basically say ‘Fuck You’,” Kuramochi explained.

Ryousuke laughed harder than he had in recent memory. “That’s perfect. But no, it’s not for me.” He slanted Kuramochi a smirk. “I’m a little more...straightforward in my dealings with those who upset me.”

Kuramochi chuckled as he stuck his head in a cooler, retrieving the flowers he needed. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he said. “I’ve heard much about you from Haruichi and the idiot.”

“The idiot?” Ryousuke said. “You mean Eijun? That’s hardly fair, is it? He’s not the brightest thing, but what he does, what he cares about, he shines at.”

“You’re right,” Kuramochi agreed. “He does.” He shut the door of the cooler he was digging in and headed back to the counter. “So if you’re not pissed at someone, what do you need these for?”

“I have a customer who is apparently pissed at someone. Or the whole world, I don’t know which. Either way, she’s requested a tattoo with these flowers and I wanted to get some so I can draw them correctly.”

“That’s right!” Kuramochi said. “You own Second Base, right?”

“That’s my shop.”

“I’ve heard great things about it,” he said, wrapping the flowers in protective paper and adding a flower preservative packet to the bouquet. “I’ve been meaning to stop in; I just haven’t had the time. The shop keeps me jumping most of the time.”

“I’m sure,” Ryousuke said. “They have a habit of doing that.” He fished out his wallet and handed over a credit card to pay for the flowers. While Kuramochi ran the card, he wandered around a bit, looking at his various offerings.

“Here you go,” Kuramochi said, handing him back his card. “I hope to see you soon.”

“You just might,” Ryousuke said. “Have a good night, Kuramochi.”

“Good night, Kominato-san,” Kuramochi answered as Ryousuke walked out the door.

Looking at the counter, Kuramochi saw a lone white violet and picked it up, intending to put it back in its place when he noticed the paper wrapped around it.

Opening it, he saw a phone number.

On a white violet.

He smiled.

Let’s take a chance.

#kuraryouexchange #drowninginfeels

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ladywhaiyvern · 4 years ago

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Musings of An Otaku #6- Worldly Potato Chips

This won’t be a typical musing from a form of entertainment. Not a video game, not an anime, not a manga, etc. Nope. Deals with food! My favorite type of snack food! Potato chips or crisps. Doesn’t matter what you call them- they can be delicious.

Now here in the States (especially the midwest and the actual mitten-shaped state) we seem to have the same consensus on what a potato chip is. Thin, deep fried potato usually seasoned with salt or some sort of other flavoring. BBQ flavors- sure! Ranch flavor- why not! Salt and vinegar- yum! Cheddar and sour cream- oh yeah! Sour Cream and Onion- Yuppers! Even bizarre flavors have popped up- dill pickle, chicken and waffles, biscuits and gravy. Not my cup of tea for chip flavors but to each his own. Some are wavy, others are not. Some have ruffles….which is just a fancy way of saying wavy. All of which are typically pretty darn grease-laden and leave your hands with the slippy feeling, glossy sheen of whatever oil they fried them in, topped with a layer of powdered flavoring.

This is the one thing that I absolutely hate about American potato chips. Why so greasy? I shouldn’t set down a single chip on a napkin or paper towel- walk away for less than a minute, come back and see said napkin or towel with a large greasy spot forming under the chip. Shit, I’m pretty sure if I set up a time lapse video- one could prolly watch it slowly extend its way outward. This would be like watching paint dry or grass grow. Pointless and a time-waster.

Sure, we have the different cooked styles like the baked chips and the kettle cooked chips that do not leave your hands feeling this disgusting after consuming and come in some of the same said flavors as regular chips. But a damn baked chip tastes more like a baked corn chip then a potato chip. Yeah, they are healthier but it sometimes feels like I’m biting into a small piece of cardboard enhanced with flavoring. I don’t think the kettle chips are healthier by any means but what do I know. I’m no potato chip scientist. Just an enthusiast. They are on the more crunchier side and tend to have a shit ton more “fold-over” chips in the midst. IMHO, those are the best chips! Still a little on the oily side but definitely NOT as grease-laden as regular potato chips.

It all depends on the brand as well. Big name brands like Lay’s are notorious for being greasy as all get out. Store brands like Kroger, Meijer, etc. are just as bad. Better Made and other local Michigan chip makers (as there are quite a few of them now) vary in between being mildly oil covered to not even having a single drop on them. How do they make that even possible and why can't big name chip makers go that route?

For the past 6 months, I have been receiving the snack-food subscription box from Universal Yums. OMFG! Both the best and worst decision ever! Monthly subscription box sent to your door filled with snack goodies from different countries from around the world. Now you damn well know the Cultural Anthropologist in me is jumping up and down like a giddy child on Christmas morning. It’s like playing “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?”, only instead of following Carmen around the world to catch her, you're following a trail of snack foods to the country they are from. “Where in the World is Universal Yum?” Hmm…...I’ve got connections to Rockapella….maybe they can give a new jingle! LOL!

Also, during these same said months I have also been part of another snack-food subscription box. Japan Crate. This one- only hailing from Japan…...obviously. This one is typically filled with Japanese snack goodies ranging from salty to sweet. Usually more of the sweeter items then salty. Which disappoints me to no end because I absolutely love salty snacks more than I do sweet. And being an otaku since the late-90’s, I have already tasted and tried a good majority of these sweets. Thank you, local Asain markets and the long gone Anime store here in Michigan- Wizzywigs. Shit now you can walk into brick and mortar stores and pick up a box of Pocky and bottle of ramune. Now….do not even get me started on this American ramune that you can purchase from Meijer or even GameStop. It’s obviously bottled and manufactured here and not imported. It sure as hell does not taste the same and have that same satisfying fizz and flavor as ones I have drank years upon years ago. BUT! This is about potato chips and not Japanese sweets and drinks. These boxes will sometimes feature a bag of flavored chips. One said box contained a bag of sour cream and onion chips.

In all seriousness- well about as serious as a musing on a snack food can get; almost every single month I have gotten said potato crisps/chips from said different countries. England, Scotland, Egypt, Russia, Columbia, Italy, Taiwan. And each one, no matter what country or what flavor- all have the same consistency. They sure as hell are not thin ass pieces of paper like what you get here. It’s got some bulk to it! It’s crunchy. It’s crispy. IT”S NOT FULL OF GREASE!! It gives you that satisfying crunch when you bite into it. Like how a chip is supposed to taste and feel as you bite into it.

Your lips lightly graze the surface of the chip and do not become painted in oily dissatisfaction. Your lips thank you as you start to taste the seasoning mixed with an actual hint of potato. Your fingers are surprisingly dry after you eat the rest of the chip. Yes, you still notice flavoring powder left over on said fingertips but you sure as hell don’t feel guilty licking that off. As you reach your hand into the bag to grab another handful, you can actually grasp chips and hold onto them. You're not fishing your hand around inside the bag trying to pick up a handful of what feels like wet moving chips. Another thing that is worth mentioning, is that you do not feel an oily, greasy feeling on the tops of your fingers or hand after it scrapes across the sides of the bag when entering and exiting.

How are all these chip/crisp manufacturing places around the world able to accomplish this task? And yet, here in the good ol’ United States- we are still stuck on selling this crap. This super greasy, super oil laden thin ass fake tasting snack food. Why do we have to pay more for said snack food to not be this way? Why the hell do we have to import them from other countries to have them taste better (in most cases) then what is purchased here? Yes, I have tried some not too flavorful crisps. Haggis and Black Pepper?! Black Truffle Flavor? Not my cup of tea at all. But you know what it did have regardless. That thick ass crisp with a satisfying crunch.

I honestly think after trying crisps from all over the world, I have become a bonafide chip snob. The more chips that I encounter from different regions of the world, the more and more I am disliking the chips here in America. But this is AMERICA!! They have to be good! Whatever- as someone who was born and raised here and grew up eating the chips sold here I can honestly say that America- your chips suck ass! Sorry, not sorry at all!

#musings #snacks #world of yum #World of nom #world snacks #yums #potato chips #potato crisps #rants #cultural anthropology #random thoughts #random musing

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gospacegay · 7 years ago

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LRTIHEW: Part Twelve

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166240316908/lrtihew-part-eleven

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Not really knowing how to proceed, Ivan improvised. He pulled Alfred into a crushing hug without warning. “You may be stupid and cruel, but I do not hate you either.” Russia admitted, despising every second of this. It was leagues outside his comfort zone. “Good.” Alfred hummed in approval, immediately twisting out of the grasp. Ivan was solidly hit in the gut, not expecting it. “That's for punching my face!” Alfred growled.

“This is for spilling hot chocolate on my best sweater!” Ivan replied, engaging the somewhat violent play fighting. “Stealing my pot brownies!” another punch was dodged as America advanced on him. They exchanged blows evenly, dodging most as they screamed increasingly silly accusations at each other. Somewhat bloodied, Ivan towered over a tripped Alfred. Wielding a broken lamp, the situation made him pause.

Alfred, shielding his bruised face with his arms, relaxed slightly and perked an eyebrow. Ivan chuckled as the ridiculousness of it all. The chuckle grew to a rolling laugh, making him set down his weapon so he could breathe. “What?” Alfred asked curiously, sitting up. “I was about to kill you with a lamp over a twitter post!” Ivan answered, breaking into low riotous mirth again. “Yeah!” Alfred giggled, joining in. They laughed until there was no energy left in them, dropping onto the broken couch. Ivan felt relieved, almost human.

After pulling shards of glass and wood out of each other, the duo sank into plush furniture and mindlessly watched TV. Alfred's phone rang at some point. “United States of Amazing speaking.” he answered the device cheerfully. “Of course. Breakfast in bed in the best.” he replied after a moment. “I know. I think I'll save that post like forever.” he said while picking fluff off the couch. Ivan felt exasperated, certain they were talking about the inane twitter post. “Yeah, yeah. See you there.” he bid goodbye casually, hanging up.

“It's Mattie, We have to be ready in... thirty minutes.” Alfred explained as if he wasn't about to be late for the most important party of his president's career. Ivan stood, grimacing at the holes and clotted blood on his silky pyjamas. Oh well, more pairs where that came from. “Where ya going?” Alfred asked in standard obliviousness. “Unlike some animals, I care about looking good in public.” Ivan scoffed, heading off to change.

A tailored suit from long ago. Silver cuff links that had seen more bloodshed than any human alive. A tie in a shade of red passionate to symbolize life, yet dark enough to resemble blood. Ivan did a quick shave, then wrangled his hair down with product. Yes, he would look royal in his eloquence.

When Ivan entered the living room, Alfred was ready to go in a navy blue suit with red tie. How he finished before Ivan was a mystery of physics, considering he started later than the Russian. “God you took forever man. Let's go.” the American teased, up and ready to depart. The drive was endless insults and jabs. Sometimes Ivan wanted to stab his driver, other times he didn't.

Due to endless rain, the party was being hosted away from the traditional site. A nearby convention center was stuffed with people of sky high rank socializing and sipping flutes of golden liquid. Ivan was right to overdress for the occasion, on par with the wealthy around him. Alfred was quite plain, clearly unhappy mingling with the upper crust.

“I fuckin' hate this, big guy. The fake smiles, the attitudes, it's fake. It's fake and I hate it. I wish I could eat beer and chicken wings.” the honey blonde muttered to Ivan, not even trying to mingle. “Oh little America, this is the stage where all change begins. A handshake could destroy the world, or save it.” the Russian assured, feeling at ease in the posh atmosphere. It was really the commoners Ivan had trouble reaching, even after all this time.

“That's a lot of big words coming from a bear like you.” Alfred replied, smirking. Ivan rolled his eyes and gestured to a plump woman in a royal blue gown. “Watch and learn.” Ivan instructed seriously, walking over confidently. “Excuse me madam, but your dress is an exquisite shade of blue.” Ivan greeted, using his archaic royal charms. It worked flawlessly.

“Why thank you, mister... ?” the woman greeted warmly, trailing off into a question. “Braginsky, a humble diplomat of the Russian Federation.” Ivan introduced himself politely. “I'm the state secretary for Nebraska, but you can call me Anita.” the state secretary gushed, enjoying the attention. A few other women and a bored looking senator flocked over at her beckoning.

“You must meet Mr. Braginsky. He is such a charmer.” the fat woman insisted, nudging who was obviously her friend. After exchanging compliments on each other's state of dress, Ivan excused himself. Alfred followed closely behind, looking rather shocked. “Oh man, you're like the rich people whisperer.” he praised in a mostly non-mocking manner.

“You were not watching. I have now given a positive impression to a state secretary. Secretaries know things and talk to people. I would not be surprised if this simple interaction benefits any Russians in... what was it? Nebraska? Yes, a single compliment will benefit many men.” Ivan explained slowly, understanding why England was so frustrated with him in the past.

The American truly was a wild dog among the delicate nobility. His strength and usual clarity were not welcome here. Ivan pitied the younger nation. Had America come from a different age, he would have thrived alongside a warrior king. Ivan had not been keen on battle personally, at least not at first. Surviving as a sovereign state in 862 AD needed a grizzly set of skills.

Not wishing to dwell on his blood stained past, Ivan noticed Alfred was gone. That was fine, Ivan wanted to fraternize a bit more and improve his country's imagery. His boss would be hopefully be impressed with the extra effort. Still, it was a rather artificial and draining process. Soon, he slumped in a chair, sipping vodka from his flask. Wine was quite disgusting.

“Is the prince of the snobs done prancing around already?” Alfred snorted derisively, sitting beside him. “I have finished as I was told. I wish to sleep. Perhaps I will eat chocolate frosting while watching stupid American shark movies with you.” Ivan replied tiredly. When he didn't hear an insulting answer, he looked over in concern. Alfred was smiling like he'd won a prize. Why was he so happy? No one was happy with the isolated Russian when they met his true self.

“If I am not welcome, I can find other means of entertainment.” Ivan continued softly, wishing he could hide in his long white scarf. “No, you're welcome. That's just... That's the best thing I've heard you say ever!” Alfred replied finally, looking far too excited. “You like eating junk food?” the younger nation asked, clearly scheming. Truthfully, Ivan would have ate all the frosting if he wasn't caught red handed. He had a rather incurable sweet tooth he kept under control for health reasons. “Does it matter?” Ivan countered, wishing so badly he could have a cigarette right now.

“We could... bake something the next time you break into my house. Like cookies or whatever.” Alfred offered. “No. You are England's colony. Anything you cook will be charcoal.” Ivan refused bluntly. “Nuh-uh. You'll nag and bitch at me like a bastard harpy until the food is edible.” Alfred insisted, so unbearably smug. The thought of baking with someone else seemed... wrong. Ivan couldn't nail down why at this very second. “Perhaps.” he replied mysteriously, not giving a true answer.

“Sweet! I have to get baking stuff, and... Oh! I forgot, the speech is going to start soon!” Alfred rambled, only to run off. True to his word, people started pouring into the auditorium area. Ivan's seat was reserved near the front, alongside top notch politicians and other nations. Canada appeared to be Ukraine's latest victim, the pair talking quietly. How many tears had it taken for him to bend to her whim? Ivan had no doubt the wheat blonde Canadian had a hidden chivalrous streak. He was the twin brother of America after all, self titled hero of the world.

Not caring much for the forgettable nation, Ivan turned his attention to a point of interest. There was man fidgeting in his seat, looking tense. His ill fitting coat was misshapen ever so slightly. The odd stranger had caught Ivan's attention right away, clearly not here for social reasons. Ivan had prevented enough attempts on his boss's life to know an assassin when he saw one. No one was going to interfere with Ivan's long term elaborate plans for the United States of America.

#rusame #russia #america #aph #hetalia #story

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xxsparksxx · 7 years ago

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Hello! In the show, Caroline and Demelza's friendship seems to happen almost without our really realizing it (it seems more gradual than ex. Demelza and Verity's) but one thing I wonder was what drew them together in the books? Caroline seems the one more actively pursing that friendship earlier on in the TV version, and that was intriguing. She's not the snob she pretends to be, but she's not like Dwight where class is almost a non-issue. Thank you for your analysis :)

Their friendship in the books is definitely slower to grow, and at first it’s entirely about Caroline being Dwight’s fiance - that’s the only real connection between them. They’ve met socially on a handful of occasions, of course - and Caroline has, of course, saved Ross and Demelza from bankruptcy - but the first time Demelza meets Caroline on a more intimate footing, it’s when Ross brings Caroline and Dwight back together, and brings them both to Nampara for Christmas, at the end of ‘Warleggan’. To my mind, it’s a much nicer beginning for them as a quartet than the wedding in 3.01, but ah well:

‘Have you three extra bedrooms you could get ready for tonight?’‘Three? . . . Why, who is coming? What have you arranged?’‘I have brought Caroline back with me. Caroline and her maid.’Demelza opened her eyes. ‘Where is she? Do you mean at her uncle’s?’‘She is with him now. But I invited her here to supper, and I want you to put her and her maid up over Christmas.’‘Over Christmas? Gladly. I’d lay special carpets for her if I had them. But it’s awful short notice, Ross! And I don’t quite understand . . .’‘We stayed a night in Plymouth and then came on. The story of her engagement was overhasty. There was no truth in it. When I heard that, I felt most of our old misgivings should be set aside and I tried my hand as matchmaker. Of course I hadn’t your skill, and at first she would have none of it. But on my second visit she decided to nibble at the bait. We saw Dwight in Plymouth.’‘Yes?’‘I believe they have made it up. He travelled back with us and, if we can fix him in, will stay here too.’

Demelza, being Demelza, is rather anxious about the arrangements, but it all comes off nicely. And it’s on this evening that Ross makes it clear that, with Dwight away, he and Demelza will be there for Caroline:

‘When Dwight has gone, so long as you stay with your uncle, I hope you’ll come and sup with us once or twice a week. It will help the time to pass.’‘After Dwight has gone, I shall wake up sometimes and wonder if all this week has been a dream. I think I shall have to come here for reassurance. I hope my uncle improves so that I can tell him the truth.’‘If you are in any difficulty, come straight here,’ Ross said. ‘We will put you up for as long as necessary.’ Caroline looked at Demelza before replying. ‘Your husband’s committing you very deep.’Demelza said: ‘Well, no deeper than I’d want to go or be willing to go tomorrow.’

So they don’t really strike up a friendship at this point as such, but they do begin to know each other much better and to become friendlier. But yes, at this point, it’s about Dwight. Dwight is the connection between them, the reason they have for knowing each other and for growing to know each other better.

It’s once Dwight is away at sea, and then captured in France, that the friendship really blossoms between Caroline and Demelza. Because really, there are very few people who don’t grow to love Demelza once they know her, and Caroline proves to Demelza, quietly but quickly enough, that she’s not such a snob as to turn her nose up at Demelza’s background, or her working life, or any of it. Her snobbery is, as you say, a lot of pretence - and I maintain that when she acts the snob to/with Dwight, it’s to provoke him into a reaction! - but she’s very aware of class distinctions in a sort of casual, every-day manner. I think, with Demelza, Caroline sees Demelza’s insecurities and never teases her about them, never chides her for still feeling like that. She must know that she’s an example, to Demelza, of how gentlewomen behave, but she never demonstrates that she’s aware of being an example. Does that make sense?

Anyway, the scene I’m talking about where Caroline proves to Demelza that she’s not a real snob, is a beaautiful scene. Normally it would be far, far too long for me to post, but it’s one of my favourite bits of interaction between them, so I’m going to put it under a read more. It really shows how they begin to relate to each other not just as ‘Dwight’s fiance’ and ‘Ross’s wife’, but as two women, two human beings. There is a subtle understanding that begins to grow between them, stemming from this scene, which is why I feel it’s so important and why I love it so much! I wish, I dearly wish that they’d kept it in the show in some form. Afterwards, they simply are friends: Caroline becomes Demelza’s greatest female friend, the person to whom Demelza turns when she cannot turn to Ross (about Hugh Armitage, for example). But this scene is a turning point for them. This scene begins to make their friendship about something other than Dwight.I will edit a few odd bits, just for brevity.

Caroline was standing by the window looking taller than ever in a grey waisted riding habit and small fur hat. The bright light silhouetted her figure but concealed her expression as she turned. ‘Demelza, I am renowned for arriving at inopportune moments. I hope you are well.’ ‘Yes, well, but just at this minute, as Jane will have said . . . But stay. Stay to dinner. If you can excuse me for the next quarter of an hour . . .’ They had kissed, but a little uncertain of each other. Caroline held Demelza at arm’s length before releasing her. ‘I could hardly have told even now. How long is it?’ ‘About six weeks, I suppose.’ Suddenly her mind jumped on. ‘You have news of Ross?’ ‘Oh, no. You will have the first news, my dear. I came only to see you.’ ‘Well, make yourself comfortable. Sit down and rest. Is your horse seen to? . . . Oh, what a fine horse! Is he your own?’ ‘I have had him two years – since my twenty-first birthday. But look, must I be punished for coming at this wrong time by being made to sit here like a naughty girl? May I not keep you company?’ ‘Well . . . baking bread is tedious, and the kitchen will be overwarm for you after your ride and—’ ‘Would you believe it, I have not seen bread made since I used to steal into the kitchen in my mother’s house. But perhaps it would embarrass you if I came?’ This was precisely what it would do, but Demelza had to protest it would not, so presently they went together into the kitchen, to Jane Gimlett’s manifest confusion, for she clearly thought that whatever Mrs Poldark chose to do in her own home was her own business but that this was certainly no place for a lady of Miss Penvenen’s birth and breeding. In the end she dropped a basin and knocked over a stool when bending to pick it up, so Demelza sent her off to do something in the still room, promising to recall her when the fire wanted taking out of the oven. ‘Where is Jeremy?’ Caroline asked, perching on the stool that had now been set upright again. ‘He is well?’ ‘Yes, thank you. Though he is always ailing little things. He is not at all like Julia, my first child, who never ailed one day all her life until she caught the morbid sore throat that killed her. You’ll stay to dinner?’ ‘I would like to, but thank you, Uncle Ray has taken the fancy for me to dine in his room. Although he eats little himself he seems to like the sight of another doing what he cannot.’ (.......omitted for brevity......) It was the first time these two women had talked alone, and they were still not at ease. Demelza was conscious of her homely clothes, her homely occupation, her ungainly appearance, while this elegant red-haired girl sat on a stool and tapped her riding boot and watched her. Nowadays she seldom felt conscious of her humble origin when dealing with people, she had been Mrs Ross Poldark for seven years and that was enough. But Caroline was a rather special case: someone for whom she could only feel friendship and gratitude but someone almost of her own age whose upbringing had been a world away from hers, who did not soil her hands with work one day in the year and who always talked so casually even when serious. Someone, moreover, for whom Ross at this moment was risking his life and liberty. ‘Why do you knead each lump so long?’ Caroline asked. ‘Because if I don’t the bread will have holes in it. We eat a lot of bread. There are five loaves here and a little over. Perhaps if I made you a small one with this smaller piece you would like to take it back with you?’ ‘Thank you. It’s my birthday, so I shall look on it as a present.’ ‘Oh, it is not good enough for that! Happy returns! I wish . . .’ ‘What do you wish?’ ‘I was thinking out loud. I’m sorry . . . I wish that Ross could come back today with the news we both seek.’ ‘Do not be sorry for saying that.’ ‘I’m not sorry for wishing it, but I am superstitious. It appears to me it is something we should not talk about.’ ‘Well, that may be so . . . But sometimes I think while I am cooped up in that old house that I must talk to someone about it or I shall go out of my mind. Demelza, I am sorry to have brought this anxiety on you.’ Demelza began to lift the round masses of kneaded dough on to a metal tray. ‘Ross tells me there is little risk.’ ‘But it must give you anxiety, his being in France at this time. I think I should tell you that it is not at my request that he has gone.’ ‘I don’t suppose it is. Even though you have good right to request it.’ ‘No . . . No one could ever have that right.’ This part done, Demelza stood back and rubbed her hands down her apron and then with the back of her wrist pushed the dank hair away from her eyes. ‘He has been gone a week and four days. If all goes as planned he should be home soon.’ ‘I dread his coming.’ ‘Let us go back into a more comfortable place. There is nothing more I can do here for ten minutes or so.’ They went back and chatted for a time. The thing Caroline most needed was to talk, and to talk specially of Dwight, which she now did in her helplessly flippant way, apologizing every now and then for boring her listener with such a tedious recital. Presently they went back into the kitchen together and Demelza went under the arch of the stove, opened the iron door of the oven and raked out the white hot remnants of the gorse. Then Caroline lifted the other end of the heavy tray and they slid it into the oven. On this came Jeremy crying out for food, and in the end Caroline was persuaded to stay to dinner with them after all. (.......omitted for length.....) ‘No, no, thank you, my dear, for your consideration, but Uncle Ray will already be in a relapse after missing me for so long. It will take me until I don’t know what time to get home, and I must fly at once.’ ‘I’ll tell Gimlett to bring your horse.’ ’I’m sure I have wearied you with all this talk. But, you know, at Killewarren, I cannot behave openly at all. I cannot fret except in my own room. If Dwight is dead I am not even his widow. I am nothing. Which is perhaps what I rightly deserve to be.’ Demelza kissed her. ‘Let us wait and hope.’ A few minutes later Caroline was riding her white horse over the stream and up the valley. Just before she disappeared among the straggling trees she turned and raised her hand. Demelza waved back and then went in.

(The Black Moon, pp195-200)

#sparks talks poldark #Anonymous

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nardaviel · 8 years ago

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tell us about kinatsuen

:DDD ty anon! sorry for the delay

1. Who texts more often?

en but they’re usually just weird things he’s thinking about at the time. atsushi texts most often with information or questions that are relevant to their lives. kin-chan rarely initiates texting although he’ll respond if someone else texts him

2. Who is better with kids?

atsushi!! en likes them but they’re exhausting and kin-chan often doesn’t know how to deal with them

3. Who tops/bottoms?

en tops. kin-chan bottoms. atsushi is a switch. sometimes en or kinshirou will do the opposite role but tbh not often

4. How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

they all get ice cream in a cup. atsushi thinks cones are nice but more trouble than they’re worth, en just thinks they’re a pain especially if you eat slowly, and kin-chan thinks it’s gross how sometimes the ice cream melts over your hand. i think atsushi would adore ice cream with chili in it but i don’t think they have things like that in japan (am i wrong though????? idk) so instead he gets chocolate, or any unusual flavors if they sound interesting. en likes vanilla ice cream with weird toppings, especially manjuu if thats an option like in the game :D kinchan likes green tea ice cream. it doesnt taste like green tea but he still thinks it tastes good

5. Do they go on dates? What are they like?

i dont think they go out on specially designated dates very often. for special occasions maybe like kinchans birthday. he probably wants to go to a fancy restaurant for his birthday dates so those are full of en feeling kind of uncomfortable and out of place, until kinchan catches on and starts getting them private rooms so en doesnt feel judged. … they go out sometimes to do stuff i think? and those are de facto dates even though they werent planned that way, like.. they act cute and in love bc theyre too in love to do otherwise

6. Do they stargaze? Expand.

WHAT A QUESTION

yes, they go stargazing. but en falls asleep quickly tbh and sometimes he cba to go at all so often its just kinatsu. when its kinatsu, it is sickeningly sweet. i still think that atsushi is the one whos really into astronomy and kinchan just enjoys spending time with atsushi in a romantic setting. there is lots of cuddling. …when en is there, though, he like .. makes up new constellations and speculates about the mysteries of space, &c &c. so its not as tooth-rotting but everyone still has a good time

7. Who’s the laziest?

hmmmmmmmmm…

8. Who complains more?

en tbh but kinchan has his moments as well

9. Who wakes up earlier?

kinchan! atsushi wakes up early too but not kinchan-level early. en .. yeah

10. What do they smell when they smell amortentia?

en: fresh laundry (= clean sheets), the smell of something sweet baking, kin-chan’s soap lololatsushi: curry, green tea bc he associates it with kin-chan, that kind of autumny smell u know when the leaves are falling and its starting to get coolkin-chan: the smell of tea ceremony which may or may not include more smells than just green tea idk, the sweet curry atchan makes him, a faint hint of paint bc en is an artist but too much paint smell is unpleasant

11. Who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back?

LMAO if anyone would do this, en would, but i’m not convinced. possibly kin-chan sets the alarm on en’s phone to something unbearable on a day when en has to get up early

12. Who uses chopsticks/Can either of them use chopsticks?

they’re all japanese so

13. When they can’t sleep what do they do?

kinchan tries to lie there in silence with his eyes closed the way u r meant to do. sometimes that gets results. if it doesn’t, he probably gets up and reads in a different room. atsushi does the same, except when he lies there quietly he’s less likely than kinchan to cuddle up to whoever’s next to him bc he doesn’t want to wake them up. en … ????????????????????? ??????? if he couldn’t sleep he wouldn’t know what to do with himself so he’d just lie there until it happened

14. Who’s clumsier?

probably atsushi. none of them really strike me as super clumsy but i think kinchan is graceful. whereas atsushi can be kind of awkward sometimes im sorry bby

15. Who would hold the umbrella in the rain?

en is the tallest. he’d try to make atsushi do it but atsushi would be like “just hold the umbralla en-chan omg” so he’d do it. he’d whine about it tho. also it’d have to be a big umbrella to fit all of them under it

16. What do they argue about most?

making en do the chores. kin-chan being a snob. those can be kind of rough bc kin-chan is a bit of a classist dick u know so sometimes he unintentionally hurts en’s feelings and then the resultant argument gets kind of messy. kinshirou and en also have frequent arguments about art but they aren’t as emotionally charged

17. Which one is a secret snuggler?

kin-chan. en is an open snuggler. and out and proud snuggler

18. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

atsushi, but kin-chan won’t take it. u keep urself warm, atchan!! en often says the same thing but if he’s really cold he’ll accept it a;ljsdf

19. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

atsushi. en remembers their favorites &c but not every single thing at every restaurant. kin-chan also remembers i think but he doesn’t let on, he just enjoys the feeling he gets when he’s right. it’s warm and fuzzy and also slightly triumphant lmao

20. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?

en … tbh … kin-chan and atsushi are more conscious of road safety!!!! ..but sometimes if the road is straight they take en’s hand when he reaches out lmao

21. Who gets the window seat?

en. he wants to zzz. a couple of times early on kin-chan said no i want the window seat i want to watch the scenery but en was so annoying about not being able to zzz as easily that he just let him take it after that

22. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it say?)

ok this meme really is just like a bunch of questions from other memes all stitched together. this question confirms it. atsushi leaves the notes. they’re cute little cheerful things for kin-chan but they are an extra way for him to nag en-chan. also occasionally en leaves obnoxious things in kin-chan’s lunch if they’ve been arguing or he’s been teasing kin-chan and then kin-chan is mad all afternoon :D

23. Who wakes up first?

kin-chan

24. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

all these questions about sleeping and waking up like are they even necessary here

25. Who’s prone to wearing socks indoors (or to sleep)?

my first thought was that maybe kin-chan has bad circulation, but he’s an archer… idk if that would help the circulation in his feet, but in any case i’ve changed my mind about that hc altogether. so probably atsushi if anyone

26. Who has bigger cravings?

…. en and kin-chan. possibly kin-chan feels it the most if he goes without tea but like en needs his manjuu ;;

27. Who reminds the other to put on sunscreen before going to the beach (or pool)?

atchan. kin-chan might tell en but he has faith in atsushi’s ability to remember for himself. (atsushi reminds everyone tho including kin-chan)

28. Who carries all the important documents while traveling?

kin-chan

29. Who sneaks in cookies in the shopping cart?

en a;sljkdf

30. Who cooks at 2 in the morning?

n .. o one. i was going to say this sounds like smth en would do but then i was like… why tf would en be awake at 2am…

31. Who gets extremely competitive playing Mario Kart?

…ok so here’s an image for u. en and atsushi are getting intense over mario kart and kin-chan comes in and kind of shakes his head at them but then en invites him to join in and won’t take no for an answer so kin-chan is like ugh fine. but he doesn’t really put any effort into it at first except then he comes in 12th place in the first race whereas en and atsushi come in 1st and 2nd and it is an insult to his pride so he’s like… ok. let’s do this. and en and atsushi are startled! but in the other races he makes it up to like ……….8th place maybe. …which still isn’t good enough for him but he chooses to be disgusted w/ the game rather than w/ himself

32. Who takes longer getting ready?

probably kin-chan? idk i don’t think en or atsushi put unusual effort into getting dressed/getting dressed up. kin-chan might take a little extra time to make sure he looks 100% classy and put together but even he’s not gonna spend an hour or even half an hour getting ready

33. Who likes doing the dishes?

???????????????? none of them. atsushi ends up doing them most often but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it

34. Who points at a dog when they see it?

… no one, but en is the one who says “ah a dog”. but! kin-chan is the one whose face quietly lights up the brightest at the sight of the cute animal. ..as long as it doesn’t get to close bc dogs are slobbery and undignified

35. Who’s prone to road rage?

…kin-chan. why can’t all these imbeciles follow basic traffic laws D

#kinatsuen #boueibu #kinshirou kusatsu #atsushi kinugawa #en yufuin #THIS TOOK LIKE A MONTH IM SORRY ANON #ask meme #asks #Anonymous

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thewandrblog-blog · 8 years ago

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My Top 10 Best Places to Eat in NYC

I miss the food in New York City. A lot. It's expensive as hell, but as I continue to travel and discover new places, I still haven't met it's rival. The prices are warranted. So I got to thinking about which places I miss the most and where I would go right now if I could teleport there.

The thing is, there are so many restaurants in the city, with such a high rate of turnover, that you'd never have the opportunity to discover them all even if you went to two or three a day for the rest of your life. You just wouldn't be able to catch up! Discovering the best places to eat here is a true "word-of-mouth" experience. So, allow me to give you a head start...

Without further delay, here are My Top 10 Best Places to Eat in NYC, and why they are my favorite:

10. Artichoke Pizza

Address: 114 10th Ave, New York, NY 10011 (Chelsea)

I know a few people who would rate this even higher than #10 on their list. It's a New York City Staple. It's not the NYC pizza you're thinking about. The slices are giant, yes, but you won't find another slice like their signature Artichoke version. My friends from Australia were blown away.

It's a favorite late night spot after a show at The Webster or a night out downtown. Take out available (and likely) as seating is limited. You haven't been to NY unless you've tried a slice of Artichoke Pizza.

9. Chelsea Thai

Address: Chelsea Market, 88 10th Ave, New York, NY 10011 (Chelsea)

In the mood for authentic Thai? Look no further than Chelsea Thai, which is located in another place you don't want to miss- Chelsea Market. I'm kind of a Thai food snob, having lived there for several months, and I always look for the homage to Buddha on the wall when I walk into a Thai restaurant, which is a good luck tradition in Thailand.

The staff is very friendly, very talented, and very Thai. They were even happy to make me some off-menu classics. I worked in this building for Major League Baseball for a while, so we got to know each other pretty well. I definitely filled up a loyalty card or two.

8. La Pulperia

Address: 1626 2nd Ave, New York, NY 10028 (Upper East Side)

I discovered this place when I was hired to help out on a commercial film shoot all over the city. This is one of the places the commercial was highlighting in the city, and I soon discovered why. The owner, who I spoke with in length, is a creative Latino whose passion is to put a creative spin on latin american cuisine. Classics from south american countries like Mexico and Argentina are fuzed together with influences from Italy and Spain, and every dish is instagram-worthy. Also noteworthy is their cocktail menu- it's on point.

7. Drunken Monkey

Address: 338 E 92nd St, New York, NY 10128 (Upper East Side)

Best Indian Food I've had outside of my Indian friend's mother making it for me in their home, ever. This is not your traditional Indian Food experience, which is often accompanied by buffet-style food and oddly decorated dining rooms.

This is a beautiful hole-in-the-wall restaurant with the perfect low-lit ambience, an extensive bar, and traditional Indian dishes that blow me away every time I eat there. Luckily, I lived walking distance from it! Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

6. Momo Sushi Shack

Address: 43 Bogart St, Brooklyn, NY 11206 (Bushwick)

This place was a favorite of my buddies in Brooklyn, who brought me there 50% of the time we went out to eat. They couldn't get enough of it, and I don't blame them. It's delicious.

Their ramen and sushi dishes always hit the spot and the cheerful chef never failed to impress or come out and say hello and have a chat with us. There's also some pretty amazing sake options there- and I don't even like sake. The lemon one, though- so good. Order it. And the pork belly ramen with the egg if they still have it. Go for lunch, and then go next door for dinner (see #1).

5. The Burger Joint

Address: Le Parker Meridien, 119 W 56th St, New York, NY 10019 (Midtown)

You'd never know this place was here unless you were fancy enough to be staying at Le Parker Meridian near Central Park; it's sneakily located in a hidden corner behind one of the customer service desks on the first floor. The only thing that gives it away are the intensely long lines circling out from the entrance.

Luckily, I've never had to wait long because I always tend to go there a little bit earlier than most people tend to be ready for lunch I suppose. I'd recommend you do the same! Be ready to order when you get to the window- shouldn't be hard since the menu is pretty simple (hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and fries), and keep on eye out for the various celebs that have inked their names on the wall amongst the thousands of others.

4. Russ & Daughters

Address: 127 Orchard St, New York, NY 10002 (Lower East Side)

This Jewish restaurant is still somewhat new (opened in 2014) from a dine-in perspective, but the store has been around for over 100 years now and is a long-standing New York City favorite. The dining experience, which felt like an old-school diner, featured a creative cocktail menu, and traditional Jewish fare with tastebud-tantelizing seafood, cream cheeses, and freshly baked breads. I've traditionally hated bagels with lox and such, but this place changed my perspective. Everything was super fresh.

3. Tacombi

Address: 30 W 24th St, New York, NY 10010 (Flatiron)

This traditional Mexican Food joint impressed me. It was huge inside, darkly lit, with a bustling atmosphere of people who already know about how excellent the food and drinks are. As with Thai food, I'm a little hard to impress when it comes to Mexican food, having lived there for over a year, and coming from someone who lives with two Mexican chefs. The tacos are legit and it's a fun please to be with a small group of friends.

You'll get an order sheet similar to one you might get at an asian restaurant to lesson your ordering struggles and expedite delivery. You're going to want seconds, and probably thirds. I wish I knew about this place sooner into my stint in The Big Apple.

2. Gennaro

Address: 665 Amsterdam Ave, New York, NY 10025 (Upper West Side)

My roommate at the time somehow knew about this unsuspecting Italian restaurant out of the hundreds of them that exist in the city, and even after having visited Italy, I can still say that it's some of the best Italian food I've ever tasted. The pasta is cooked to al-dente perfection, the red sauce is heavenly and succulent, and they have my favorite red wine to accompany it- Cantina Zaccagnini Montepulciano d'Abruzzo by the bottle.

I've taken several people to this restaurant, including native New Yorkers, and they're all as impressed as I am. I order the same thing every time because it's so damn good that I can't get enough of it: Rigatoni con Melanzane (rigatoni with eggplant in a red sauce). Me want now.

1. Roberta's

Address: 261 Moore St, Brooklyn, NY 11206 (Bushwick)

Wow. Wow. Wow! This might be the best restaurant in NYC. It is to me at least! And I think it's my second-favorite in the entire country, only being trumped by Rose's Luxury in Washington, DC. They remind me very much of each other actually, offering outstanding pasta dishes like none you've ever tasted, and creative pizzas whose ingredients are masterfully paired.

This is my favorite pizza in the world, and I'm from the Connecticut which is apparently home to the best pizza there is (sorry, Pepe's). The wine list is extensive as well, and a wonderful accompaniment to their food menu. A word of advice- just like Rose's, they do not take regular reservations unless you're coming with 10-16 people, so get there early to put your name on the rotating list.

I hope you have the opportunity to try at least one of these places; I'd recommend trying them all while you're alive and capable! Share the love, and tell me about your favorites below! Now that I'm about ready to pass out from hunger, I'm going to go look for something decent in my new home of Fort Collins, CO. Boy do they have some catching up to do...

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