#restaurant (it’s not like a formal restaurant or anything. it is a dark pub that just happens to serve good food)

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m so fucking annoyed with myself today

[zawasscarf]

Nanami Kento- Fireworks

genre: fluff!!

synopsis: nanami realises how much he misses his past lover after spending late night of work at the office with them, during new years.

warnings: none!

prespective: third person

notes: reader is gender-neutral.

noise overflowed the office this late afternoon, and only began to die down by the late evening, as men in business suits, and women in fancy dresses bid each other a happy new year, and a good holiday, wishing them well as they left through the exit. He sat at his cramped cubicle, typing away at his yellowed keyboard. He wasn't particularly fond of parties, or his colleagues, or the office for that matter, but work was bound to overflow when everyone tossed aside their tasks by the end of the month. It irked him to think he would have to handel the consequences of their actions when they get back, and what bothered him even more was the fact that either way, he would have to work overtime. His hardworking nature and his sense of responsibility -which often were very bothersome to him- forced him take it upon himself to work through some issues now, so it won't reek havoc onto him later.

besides, it was a good excuse to use whenever someone asked him to join their god-forsaken party.

Though, it was nearly impossible for him to concentrate, let alone get any work done while the most obnoxious pop music blasted through their newly bought speakers in the other room, echoing through the walls of their facility. He had no choice but to stay at his cubicle for an hour or maybe two, staring at the glowing screen, at the unfinished spread sheet infront of hin. His eyes shut for a minute, trying to rest his tired eyes for even just a minute. It has been a long, long day. And yet, he did not want to leave the office, knowing that nothing will welcome him back but the coldness of his apartment.

The second he opened his eyed he found himself alone, with only his computer and the flickering lights of the city outside the window lightening up the room. His eyes hurt from staring into the screen since the morning, and that 'minute' of rest he had did not at all help, but relieved that his colleagues had dissappeared, he leaned forward onto his chair, getting to work immediately.

"And then there were two."

Their playful tone and their voice had frankly startled Nanami. He glanced up from his computer, and saw them standing at the door, hands behind their back as they walked towards him. Their face was easier to admire when they stepped into view. They looked dashing as they always were. He had taken glimpses at everyone who was attending their little party, and he could easily tell, that no one were to compare to them. What they wore was elegant, yet queit simple. It wasn't the first time Nanami saw them in formal attire, it came with the job, after all, but tonight, they looked indescribable. When they came to a stop infront of him, a cubicle much like his seperated them. "I thought you left with the others." He gave them a polite smile, however the starstruck gleam in his eyes didn't falter.

A long time passed since he last saw them, and even longer time since they spoke to one another. Even when they worked at the same office, just cubicles apart. He would find himself often wondering where they were, what they were doing. He had heard from a few colleagues that they were out of town for a month, or two, on a trip around Japan, trying to land a contract with another business. They smiled warmly back at him. "No," Their reply was firm. It was something he always liked about them, their decisiveness, their unnatural talent at body language. They stood serious, yet not in way where it came off as imposing or overbearing. In fact, they looked at ease. "I didn't see you at the party.. though parties were never really your thing, were they?" He was not sure if it was the lack of sleep, or the absence of a good source of light, but he could swear that he didn't imagine seeing their cheeks tint. "—so I assumed you're working." They walked towards the cubicle beside him, and took half of the files Nanami had placed near himself. "And I thought it was unfair for you to work through all of this on your own, since it isn't even yours, so I am helping."

"Oh." Taken by surprise, he leaned back into his -small, and queit frankly, uncomfortable- leather seat. "I see.." They were no longer looking at him, but at the screen, clicking a few buttons, starting up their computer. "But you really don't have to, you should enjoy your night." Their chuckle interrupted him, and their luminescent eyes that brought shame to the thousands of stars in the sky, looked into his worn-out jade ones.

"I don't have anything better to do tonight, Nanami."

His eyes widened for barely a moment.

"Are you sure?" He asked, he was not sure why he was making it seem like he wanted them to leave, maybe it was fear. fear that he would end up doing something, saying something that would ruin what was already ruined. But he couldn't shake the feeling his chest, the absolute warmth he felt whenever they looked at him. "I am sure you do..its new year's eve."

They reclined back into their seat, "I suppose I could be in a pub, or a club..or having dinner with one of our colleagues." Their eyes met his for a second, watching how he would react. Nanami could not explain the feeling, the only way that he could explain it is that it felt similar to the feeling he always felt when he was around a certain white haired friend of his. Sheer annoyance, frustration, even. His hand involuntarily loosened the tie around his neck, trying to reduce whatever suffocating feeling this was. Body tensed up for just a minute, then his muscles visibly contracted under his dark suit. The thought of them with someone else hadn't bothered him, they were two adults, who could see whoever they wanted to see, do whatever they wanted to do..until they mentioned it. Even if he didn't like to admit it, he was still holding onto that selfish wish of his.

"—but I am not. I am choosing to be here, and I don't mind helping on new years eve." They explained. "Besides, we can get the work done faster when we split, so maybe we will get to enjoy the festivities if we finish these files by eleven."

Nanami couldn't help but nod. He took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, then began to type back into his abandoned excel sheet. Though, it was taking him a great deal of effort to type in the right numbers, when they sat infront of him. His eyes couldn't resist glancing at them every few minutes, to admire them. How their eyebrows furrowed, and their mouth turned into a pout whenever they made a mistake. He found himself wishing that they were out, discussing life and what-not on a dinner table, in one of the cozy restaurants they discovered together, like they used to. Not sitting here in these uncomfortable seats, cubicles apart, with the only sound keeping them company is that of the city.

"Are you going to keep staring at me, Kento, or are you going to get your files done?"

He jolted, their eyes bored into his. They held a captivating gaze, for about a minute, or two, yet for him it felt as though hours had passed. "I apologise. It's been a long day." He lied. He was not as tired as he thought he would be, and seeing them tonight has ignited some sort of energy in him. Unknown to him, it was queit obvious when he lied to them. They smiled, and got up from their seat.

"I assume you've been running on nothing but coffee since this morning?" His eyes didn't leave them, as he watched them make their way to the little kitchen counter they had by the break room area. "You assume correctly, yes.." He took their 'absence' to his advantage, and focused on his work, finishing up spreadsheets as soon as they walked away. "That's pretty unhealthy."

"I am well aware, but what could I do?"

The microwave beeped a few times, and there was a sound of boilingvwater. A few minutes later, they dropped a plate with a slice of banana bread on the stacked files, and they placed a mug of jasmine tea in his hands. "Oh." His nostrils delighted by the smell of the bread, and the aroma of the steaming cup of tea, a smile had slowly made it's way on his lips. "Eat up, its gonna be a long night."

The blonde man stared up at the plate and then the mug infront of him. Though it was a simple, yet thoughtful act, it warmed his heart. He examined their relaxed posture when they leaned against the desk beside him, and his expression suddenly softened. "Thank you."

"Awh, Kento, are you going soft on me?"

He took off his fogging glasses, and set them aside, as he brought the beverage to his lips. "Yes."

Their eyebrows raised in surprise. And then they rolled their eyes, at the irony of the situation. "It's basic human decency, Nanamin. It really shouldn't be so surprising to you." Their statement felt heavy. A feeling of guilt ate him up. The office fell queit, the heavy air between them filled with unspoken words, and both of them shared passing glances, in hopes the other would speak. They broke the silence first, chuckling dryly. "I need more sugar. I swear the packets they get us don't sweeten at all." They hopped off his desk, their shoes clicking away. This sight felt familiar to him. Them turning their back to him, leaving him wondering if they would ever come back. Deja vu overtook his senses, but it was not enough to leave him frozen in place. Bewilderment -and embaressment- now written all over their face. "Kento? This hurts a bit.." Their voice was no louder than a whisper.

Nanami's grip around their wrist loosened just slightly, when he realised they were mere inches apart, and that his work was long abandoned.

"I..I apologise. But I have to tell you..It wasn't about that.."

"What are you talking about?"

"What you did for me just now. It made me realise something I should have a long time ago."

Their confusion turned into shock, and then realisation. A frown appeared on their face as they looked away from him. "Nanami.."

"It made me realise how much I missed you. How I shouldn't have let you leave that night."

They clicked their tounge and shook their head. "Nanami, this is exactly why it didn't work last time. You were always too late, only realising what you want after time had passed." He nodded in agreement, not daring to cut the off until they were done. "And you always prioritized things that didn't concern you over yourself, over me.." He could feel their hands clam up, the expression of nervousness evident on their features. "Yes, I'm well aware. And I'm giving it a shot again now, because I know I have changed."

They chuckled in disbelief, and looked up into his yearning eyed. "How much could someone really change, Nanami?"

He paused. He had come so far, he was not going to ruin this for the world. Not again. Mulling over the words, time after time in his mind, he finally replied. "You would never believe me if I just told you. You know better." He let their wrists go, and instead intertwined their fingers together. "Words can never prove it. But I'm willing to show you." Their mouth opened, but they couldn't bring themselves to disagree with him. Even though they wouldn't like to admit it, they had infact missed him. "I'm willing to do everything in my power to show you I have been working on myself for you."A pause in between words, and then he took a deep breath. His grip on their hands tightened just slightly. "So please, will you accompany to Shibuya? The countdown and firework event that takes place every new years is always sublime. And I have a friend who owns me one, so we would be watching the show from the highest building near the event. And I couldn't think of anyone..more divine to join me." A tiresome, yet determined smile set across his face. They spent a minute or two in complete silence, as they repeated the scenario in their head. Nanami normally would not let it show that he was nervous, but his hands were sweating and his jaw clenched. After a minute or two of complete and utter silence, they sighed deeply, nodding. "I'd..I'd love to, Nanami."

"Do I sense a but?"

A giggle erupted from them, but to his realif, they shook their head. "No. I am serious. I'd love to attend the Shibuya firework show with you." In an attempt to keep his cool -although his excitement was through the roof-, he raised their hands to his lips and planted a kiss on each of their knuckles. "Thank you.."

Another one of their wonderful giggles filled the air around them, their cheeks turned dark. "We should probably finish those files, if we want to get there on time."

Nanami looked back, at the abandoned cubicles and open computers. For a moment, he hesitated, but he quickly made up his mind and looked at them. "Forget about the files. We can always finish them later. Besides, the bullet train is bound to be almost empty by now, so we will be alone..." They raised their eyebrows, but a knowing smile spread across their face. He smiled back. "It's a date, then." His smile widened, it has been such a long time since he felt this way. Pleasant, ecstatic. "Just let me grab my coat, and I'll be ready to go."

Nanami nodded, letting them go after giving them a squeeze. As if silently promising, to both of them, the he won't ever let them regret their decision.

[taste-thewaste]

Potential-Madderton fic

Title: Potential Ship: Madderton Word count: ~4800 CW: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding sort of steering the plot lol Summary: Richard and Taron decide to take the next step and go out on their first date...but it’s a disaster. After, they don’t know where they stand with each other. A/N: This fic is a labor of love lol. Someone prompted me from a list of winter prompts that I reblogged forever ago, “our first date goes horribly so i don’t know why i say yes to a second date, and now, we’re stuck at the diner until the snow slows down and i'm having fun” and I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is the longest fic that I think I’ve written! It’s full of fluff and angst and gratuitous writing, so beware lol. Thank you for reading :)

--------

They’re sharing a pint in a tiny pub, and Taron’s just been stopped by the third person timidly asking for his photo. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically smiles for a selfie, his arm wrapped tight around the girl who owns the phone he’s staring into, and then he gives her a quick hug as she jets off back to her group of friends. Richard’s no stranger to being recognized-it’s happened twice to him tonight, as well-and it’s just a hazard of going out. Taron returns to the table and smiles sheepishly at Richard. 

“Sorry, Rich. It’s not always my favorite thing, but I’m still...grateful, you know? These people enjoy seeing me, my work, and just...I can’t believe this is my life sometimes.” Taron casts his eyes down, his cheeks pink from the beer and the heat of the tiny space and from his own brazen vulnerability. Richard just tilts his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. 

“Can I take you out to dinner Friday night?” Richard blurts, and then his own cheeks are pink and matching Taron’s. 

They’ve spent weeks in this place of non-definition, this gray area of relationship, not acknowledging the ways in which things have changed. They spend their evenings together, in pubs, in the cinema, in each other’s living rooms, and things are, functionally, very similar to the way they’ve always been. Except that now Rich’s knee brushes against Taron’s when they sit on the sofa, and neither of them move; Taron’s eyes linger on Richard’s just the slightest beat longer than they used to; once, in a fit of daring fueled by a few beers, Richard had pulled Taron close to him in a tight hug, buried his face in the sweet spot on T’s neck, kissed it just gently. 

No, they haven’t acknowledged these small moments of intimacy, not until now, and Richard has made a firm, calculated leap into reality. 

“Dinner?” Taron asks, softly, and Richard nods. 

“I...like you,” Richard says, his words trailing off into almost a whisper. It is raw, and vulnerable, and he is filled with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth. Taron is silent for a moment, and in those moments are everything Richard’s worried about since he came to the conclusion that he wanted to ask T out. He feels like a bloody teenager, like he’s covered in pimples and misread the signs; in those few silent moments, he rethinks everything he’s been thinking about this man. He pictures Taron recoiling in revulsion, accusing Richard of being mad, storming out of the pub. He thinks of all of the many ways he could have misread these last few weeks. He admits, to himself, that things were not clear in the slightest. 

“I-I mean, if you’d like to get dinner, that is, no pressure. It could be like tonight, just picking up some food, a beer, whatever, it doesn’t have to be anything serious…it doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now he’s stuttering like a teenager, good Christ. 

And then Taron’s hand is on his, gently, but it’s intentional and Richard looks up, allowing his eyes to meet Taron’s, and he’s calm again, because Taron is calm. 

“Yes, I want to get dinner, and I do want it to mean something,” Taron says evenly, and how could he have been nervous? His face breaks out into a relieved smile, and he nods.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Richard says, and the two of them finish their beers, make plans for Friday evening, laugh at everything stupid.

-------

Friday comes around, and for all the confidence that he’d felt when accepting, Taron will never admit to anyone how nervous he is about this dinner with Richard.

He gets dressed hours early, pulling on a pair of slacks that are both comfortable and flattering, clinging to his bum in just the right way. He pairs it with a dress shirt-dark blue, it brings out his eyes-and a jacket. It’s 4:05, and Rich isn’t due to arrive until 7. Taron’s cheeks flush as he realizes just how early he is, just how nervous he is, but it’s true. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is churning with anxiety, his hands are shaking, and the only thing he’s certain of is that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll vomit all over his expensive shoes. He sits on the couch for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding. 

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he says to himself, his voice echoing throughout the flat. “It’s Richard.” He has nothing to be nervous about; this is his best mate, his pal, the man with the ocean-blue eyes that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s been dreaming about something like this for ages, since the first time they kissed on Rocketman, and now it’s here and he can’t stop freaking out. 

He stands up from the couch and physically shakes out the nerves, flaps his arms, rolls his neck, attempts to release the tension. “I just have to chill out,” he mutters to himself. 

He kills the next three hours in a variety of ways. He attempts to read three different books, setting each of them down after just a few sentences or paragraphs. He turns on the telly and flips through the channels at lightning speed, not registering anything in front of him, ignoring the blur of the sounds and colors. He shuffles through the music on his phone, changing the songs one after the other. The activity that sticks longest is the game he makes of catching popcorn in his mouth; he tosses them in the air, tilts his head back, careens wildly to let the pieces fall into his mouth. 

By the time Richard arrives to pick him up, Taron is full of popcorn and feels like his eyes are spinning in his head. He’s more nervous than before, somehow, so when the knock comes at the door, he almost pukes. He frantically smoothes down his hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

--------

Richard decides to take Taron to the nicest restaurant he can find; he deserves that much, he deserves the world, Richard thinks. He makes a reservation and spends three days choosing what to wear. He bites his nails to the quick and when the day finally comes, he almost talks himself out of going. 

I could tell him I have food poisoning. I could tell him something’s come up and I have to fly home. I could tell him...anything, I could tell him anything because what if this is a terrible idea? 

The only thing that gets him into the car and across to Taron’s flat is reminding himself, calmly, insistently, that this is Taron, after all, his little Duckie, and this will all be fine. It’ll be better than fine, it’ll be brilliant. 

These words simply get him into the car and over to T’s, though. They do little to quell the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he drives there, the trembling in his hands as he approaches Taron’s door. Before he knocks, he takes one last big, deep breath, and reminds himself of the fact that he is absolutely certain he’s the only one who’s nervous. He’s sure that Taron is completely calm and ready for this evening. He reminds himself that everything will be just fine, better than fine. It will be wonderful.

He knocks.

-------- 

I don’t know that I’ve ever been nervous about something and had it turn out worse than I was imagining it, Taron thinks as he lays in bed that evening. It is 10:04 P.M. and he is laying in bed alone, the calling card of a date that didn’t go the way either party had hoped. Taron curls up into a ball and pulls the covers over his head, wishing he could stop reliving their evening, but unable to stop. 

It was as though every moment of their relationship up until that point had vanished out the window. Not just the small tender moments over the last few weeks, but their entire friendship. The car ride was silent and awkward, the only sound coming from Richard fiddling with the radio stations. 

Once they got to the restaurant, the awkwardness only swelled. They both behaved as if they were complete strangers who’d met on an app or through a mutual friend, strangely formal and courteous. Richard didn’t tease him about his hair or the bits of popcorn stuck in his teeth; he didn’t joke with Richard about the way he was walking as if there was a pole shoved into an uncomfortable position. They didn’t even talk about Rocketman or any of their shared experiences. They spoke politely and civilly, talked about the weather (cold); perfunctory details about their families (they were both close with their mums); their taste in music (similar). 

Taron was actually grateful when the food arrived, as it gave him something to do other than stare at Richard awkwardly and smile. They both ate quickly, barely glancing at each other throughout the meal.

“Quite good,” Richard remarked once. 

“Indeed,” Taron answered, swallowing thickly and taking a long drink of water. 

After they’d finished eating, the waiter came back and began to describe the dessert specials, until both Taron and Richard interrupted him with a sharp, short, “No!” 

Richard’s face flushed and he offered the waiter a shaky smile. “No, thank you, sir. Just the check, if you don’t mind.” 

Richard had insisted on paying, despite Taron’s repeated attempts to either pay for the whole thing or toss in his own portion, and they left quickly, for a repeat of the painfully silent car ride back to Taron’s flat. 

Once they’d arrived, Richard unbuckled his seat belt and started to open the door, but Taron had stopped him. 

“‘S okay, Rich. Why don’t we say goodnight now?” he’d muttered. Richard had cast his eyes down and nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Richard had said quietly. “Have a good evening.” Taron had nodded and practically fled from the car, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Now, here he is, in bed alone at an absurdly early hour, and his heart is still thumping, but from something else. They’d tried it, going out, and it hadn’t worked. That isn’t what’s upsetting him, though. Sure he’s sad that their attempts to turn their relationship into something more haven’t worked; he’s been looking forward to more. The excitement of more between he and Rich has kept him going for longer than he cares to admit, and now that he knows it won’t work between them, the letdown is hard. 

But what’s really hard is the crushing feeling that something has changed between them. He’s closer to Richard than he is with almost anyone else. Rich is kind and funny and smart and the idea of losing him in any way, any capacity, as his friend, is devastating. He can’t shake the feeling that that’s what’s happened, though, and it’s too much for him to handle.

Taron burrows deeper underneath the covers and shuts his eyes. 

-------

The next morning, Richard rolls over in bed and squints against the bright sunlight. The first thing he’d done after getting home was fix himself a drink, then another, and another. It’s making the early morning sun a bit harsher than usual, and it’s, blissfully, all he can focus on for a minute. Then the previous evening floods back, and he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d been so stiff, so uptight, so worried that everything was going to go wrong that he’d ruined it all. He’d wanted Taron to like him so badly that he’d been unable to think of any reason why Taron would like him in the first place. He’d been unable to think of a single thing to say that hadn’t already been said, and then their night had ended obscenely early. 

After a shower, choking down a late breakfast and trying not to puke, he decides to fire off a text to Taron. Bugger it, he thinks as he types it out and sends it before he can lose his nerve. 

Hey. Thanks for going with me last night.

It takes twenty minutes for Taron to answer when it normally takes just a minute or two-the man is glued to his phone, always searching for cat videos and recipes-and the fact of that doesn’t escape Richard’s radar. 

No problem.

Richard’s heart sinks at the reply. It is blunt, matter-of-fact, to the point. There’s no banter, no back-and-forth. He takes a deep breath and plunges forward. 

Wanna grab a beer later? 

This time his reply takes two hours to arrive, during which Richard has taken to pacing the floors, worrying, flipping through channels. When it finally comes in, he leaps on his phone and hates himself for being so manic. 

Not today. Maybe next week.

There is no question mark at the of his sentence, he is not asking Rich if he’s free next week. He is making an excuse, deflecting from the question Rich had asked him. Rich quietly clicks his phone off and slides it onto the coffee table. His heart sinks, and tears well up in his eyes, unbidden. He sits on the couch, the low evening light just starting to filter in through the windows. 

Well, he thinks, at least I know where we stand now. He has taken the best friendship he’s ever had and ruined it in one evening, or so it seems. He knows he should leave Taron alone now. Their date had gone disastrously bad, the kind of bad that you write a shitty movie about, and he knows he should just let it be and see what happens naturally. 

This, of course, is something Richard simply can’t do. 

He spends the evening wallowing, watching bad TV and going to bed early. When he wakes the next day, he turns his phone back on, hopefully, and waits to see if Taron has sent him any messages. Maybe he’d misinterpreted the text last night, maybe Taron had just been in a bad mood or tired. Maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe he’d even misinterpreted how bad the entire date had gone! 

He waits a moment for his phone to catch up, but there are no notifications from Taron. One from his mom, another from his sister, and one from Jamie, but none from the person he really wants to talk to. His heart sinks, and he slides the phone back onto his nightstand, forgets about it for the rest of the day. 

-----------

When Richard texts him the day after their disastrous date, Taron sits with it for a while, lets it roll around in his head like a marble. His first instinct is to fire something back to Rich immediately, a gushing text about how he’s sorry it was so awkward and he wants to try again and no matter what he will always want Rich as a friend. 

But he stops himself. He tells himself he will wait, at least a little bit. 

During those twenty minutes, Taron’s mind whirls at a million miles a minute, and by the time he finally decides to text back, he’s convinced himself that Rich had only reached out to be polite. It would be just like Rich to do that, he thinks. The man is over-the-top polite in every scenario; he thanks everyone over and over, he holds doors open for strangers, he pushes his chair in when he leaves a table. It’s something that Taron has always admired in Richard, a quality that has always made him love him even more. 

But now he thinks that maybe Rich has only texted him to be polite. Maybe he’s just texting him to be nice so that their friendship doesn’t end on the sour note that had been their date last night. So when he answers, he is cordial, but there is no emotion behind it. He nearly scoffs when the text comes through and Rich pretends like he wants to hang out again; another attempt at being polite. He deflects, and their conversation ends. 

After he sets his phone down, he is filled with an immense sadness, like a weight pressing down on him. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers again; disappear from the world until he feels ready to face it without Richard. 

But face it without Rich he must, because the show must go on. If life has taught him anything, it’s that.

---------

For the next two weeks, they are both at a stalemate, both men wanting desperately to reach out and both being too stubborn and pig-headed to do so. Taron sits in his flat, goes over the scripts that he’s sent, stares occasionally at his phone and pretends like he’s not hoping to see Rich’s name light up. He watches telly mindlessly, flipping through the channels and trying to distract himself from Richard’s face, which pushes its way into his mind more often than not.

Richard does the same, but he also cleans like a madman; when he’s stressed, he cleans. He scrubs the bathtub, polishes the countertops, and reorganizes his entire closet. He alphabetizes his bookshelves and rearranges his pots and pans. When he’s done, his flat is practically sparkling, and he’s still thinking about Taron.

Despite the fact that they are both constantly thinking about the other, neither of them wants to be the first to text. Neither of them think there is anything to text about. 

One night, though, Richard is sitting at home and he’s bored. He’s more than bored, he feels as though he will crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of his flat right that very second. He’s done everything he can think of to keep himself entertained; he’s read books, he’s flipped through the channels, he’s listened to music. Nothing has kept his attention, and as such he is practically vibrating with anxiety and irritation. 

So he grabs his keys and his coat and he takes off for a drive. The night is cold and clear and it smells like winter. He marvels at the blue-black sky, inky and full, the weight of the world seeming to hang just above him. His car starts up smoothly, and he rolls down the windows just a bit despite the cold, letting the sweet night air blow into the car, making him chilly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, pretends he’s just driving for the sake of getting out of the house. Maybe he’ll stop and get ice cream or a coffee or even a beer, maybe, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s not surprised, however, when he finds himself pulling up outside Taron’s, walking boldly to the door, and knocking. His knuckles are sharp on the door, and he feels like he’s never heard anything louder than this sound as it rings out into the night. 

There’s a long moment and T doesn’t come to the door. Richard considers just leaving, hanging his head and tripping back down the sidewalk. He wrestles with his brain for another moment, and is just about to turn around and leave when he sees the doorknob turn. 

And then Taron is standing there, and it’s like a punch to Richard’s gut, just seeing him. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt, and he looks good, fuck, he looks good. His hair is fluffy and disheveled, and his face is slightly soft and puffy, his eyes blinking rapidly and confusedly in the bright porch light. He has been sleeping, Richard realizes, and he feels bad. 

“Rich? What the hell are you doing here?” Taron asks, his voice still thick and husky from sleep. It’s a valid question...what the hell is he doing here? 

He is unable to say anything for just a moment as he just gazes at Taron. They’re only a few feet away from each other, but it feels like miles, and the air feels electrically charged with everything that’s not being said. Richard wants to reach out and grab Taron, pull him close to his body, bury his face into the sweet spot on his neck where his skin is always the softest, tell him how much he has missed him and how he doesn’t care if they ever go on another bloody date again, he just wants him, all of him, exactly this way. 

Instead, he stands just so many feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to look casual but really just making him look uncomfortable, which he is, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well?” Taron asks, and his voice sounds slightly hysterical. “It’s 11:30 at night, what are you doing on my porch?” 

Rich is slightly shocked at hearing how late it is; he’s been so in his own head lately that time has had almost no meaning. I missed you, he wants to say. I am here because I cannot imagine my life without you in it in some way. Because I missed the sound our voices make when they’re together. Because I missed your laugh. Because I missed being near you. He can’t say these things, though; he doesn’t know why, he just knows that he can’t. So he shrugs, struggling to maintain his nonchalance, and before he knows it he blurts out “Are you hungry?” 

Taron’s eyes narrow. “You came to my house at 11:30 p.m. to ask me if I’m hungry.” The words fall out of his mouth flat, and Richard suddenly feels like the biggest fool. It is over between he and Taron, and he has been unable to accept that. He has to. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet. He hears a tiny sigh escape from Taron’s mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Taron says, and Richard looks up just in time to see T disappear back inside. When he comes out five minutes later, he’s wearing worn-in jeans and a thick sweater; he tugs his front door closed, locks it, and looks at Rich. “Where to?” 

----------

They end up at a shitty all-night diner, the kind you see in indie movies and read about in novels with beveled edge pages. There’s only two other people inside, a pair of weary-looking old men eating limp sandwiches. There’s one waitress, bustling around behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots and wiping everything clean, and a bell rings out as Taron and Rich push the door open. They ease into a booth, their bums sliding across the cracked, faded leather. Rich runs a finger along the edge of the table, cracked formica. 

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Rich says with a small smile as he hands Taron a menu from the stack at the other end of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Taron says, meeting Rich’s smile with one of his own and cracking his menu open. 

The drive over had been silent, but the silence was not unwelcome or hostile. They were not trying to impress each other or mend any fences; they were simply together, as they’d been a thousand times before. 

Now the waitress bustles over and asks them if they need a moment before ordering; she is tired, and her voice suggests she’s been here for hours. They both order coffee, nothing more, and she sets down two mugs, fills them, returns with cream and sugar. 

Rich smirks as he watches Taron dump in his customary truckload of sugar, and outright laughs at the look on his face after he takes a big gulp of it. 

“Stuff’s horrid,” Taron whispers, but he is smiling still. Richard takes a drink of his own and nods hastily. It tastes burnt and bitter but he’ll always be grateful to that cup of coffee, because it breaks the ice between them, gives him enough courage to speak. 

“So what’ve you been up to the last couple of weeks?” 

Taron stirs his coffee absent-mindedly. “Not much. You?” 

“Yeah, not much.” 

“I--I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you,” Taron says. “A lot,” he adds, under his breath. A warm feeling spreads in Richard’s stomach, his heart flutters a bit.

“Why didn’t you text, or call me?” Rich asks. 

“Why didn’t you text or call me?” Taron fires back, a steely glint in his eyes. It doesn’t upset Richard, it makes him smile even more. Taron has always been stubborn, and it’s one of the things Rich loves best about him. It can be infuriating at times when you’re begging him to just do something simple, but it also means that he’s stubborn about what he loves, too. If he’s being pig-headed, it means there’s still something there. 

“I thought I’d buggered our date up so badly that I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after how you answered my text the morning after,” Rich says. 

“I thought you only texted me to be nice. You’re always so polite, I thought you were just doing it because you thought it was what you were supposed to do,” Taron says in the tiniest of voices, and it breaks Richard’s heart a little. He imagines Taron, sitting in his flat, thinking that his best friend, his...whatever-the-hell-they-were, was only talking to him to be polite. He impulsively reaches out and catches Taorn’s hand across the table. 

“I’d never lie to you, T. I’d never do anything disingenuous to you. You mean too much to me,” Richard says earnestly, squeezing Taron’s hand. “The truth is that I’ve missed you so much these last few weeks that it actually, physically, fucking hurts. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. I wanted nothing more than to ring you a million times. I just kept replaying our disastrous fucking date over and over in my head…” 

Taron laughs. “It really was brilliantly awful. What happened?” 

Richard passes the mug back and forth between his hands. “I don’t know, I wanted to impress you so bad. I picked the nicest restaurant and I dressed nicely. I was just so nervous, and I wanted you to like me so badly…” 

“God, Richie, I would’ve thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m impressed by you exactly the way you are,” Taron says lightly. “I mean, you’re the most talented actor I’ve ever seen. But besides that, you’re funny, and smart, and incredibly kind. You’re the kindest person I know. And the fact that I even get to know you is amazing. So, you see, you’d already done the impressing by the time we even got to the date.” 

He says all this effortlessly, as though these are things he just inherently knows and has thought about for ages. He says them as those his words are just true, as if they don’t mean everything in the world to Richard. But they do. 

“T, I...can we start over? With everything?” Rich’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink, and his hands are now laid, flat, on the chipped formica table. They are shaking, just a bit, from the nerves and a rush of love and the wholeness of it all. Taron reaches across and grips both of Richard’s hand in his. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Taron asks, a grin slipping onto his face, and Richard matches it eagerly. 

------

They leave the diner an hour later, full of bitter coffee and a slice of apple pie that they’d shared, and Taron looks up at the sky. Snow is swirling around them in great tufts, coming down in a dizzying array of white. Richard’s car is already covered in it, and their shoes, hastily selected sneakers instead of the boots that would’ve been more helpful, slip and slide through the fine white powder. The world is still, at almost 1 a.m., as the snow cascades down around them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taron says, his voice as soft as the flakes that land in his hair. His eyes are shining with the reflection of the snow and the bright streetlamp.

Richard reaches out and pulls Taron close to him, finally nuzzles that sweet spot on T’s neck. Taron scrunches his face up and laughs a little, and the sound is like music to Rich’s ears. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in Taron’s ear. Taron leans over and impulsively, madly, kisses Richard. It is insistent and present and better than anything they’ve shared together so far, somehow. It is a joining together, a reminder of why they started this in the first place, an erasure of their terrible first date. Richard smiles into it. 

“Come back to my place?” Taron asks, and Richard nods. He laces their fingers together and leads Taron to the car, towards Taron’s house, towards a future together.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 25

I figured parking the bike in the garage out of plain sight would be my best bet, just in case Tia spaced and happen to pass by Revel’s and let Livvy catch site of me there. As far as she knew, Cal and I were out at the pub for the first preseason Steelers game, grabbing a couple beers. I drafted Tia to persuade her into one measly night off from the unforgiving jump ropes and speedbags to go to some unrealistic, sickening, fucking chick-flick, and maybe allow her a drink. My real whereabouts had to remain unsuspected, at least for now. I planned on filling her in on all the secrets tomorrow night, and pray to God that it didn’t send her spiraling into a hissy fit just 5 days before her match with the Franklin Park gal.

I had never lied this much to anyone in my damn life, which didn’t make the fact that Liv was the victim, any easier. I had prodded through her phone, snuck out on the porch two or three times in the last week to ‘check the mailbox’ that I had already emptied earlier in the day, so I could return a missed call. I bought plane tickets with my Paypal so she wouldn’t see the transactions, and paid Mac $200 to play chauffeur to the airport, all behind the back of the woman in my life. It was for her own good, and for my own peace of mind.

I opted to reach out to Liz first, stealing her number from her daughter’s phone contacts, figuring if she and Tony were anything like my own parents, the lady of the house called the shots. I pleaded with her best I knew how, to promise we keep my little master plan hidden from Liv, and in typical female fashion, she whispered “oooh’s” and “awwww’s” about how I was just ‘too sweet and romantic for my own good.” Shit, you got a lot to learn about me, lady.

They flew in early this morning, and I gave Mac all their hotel info to pass along when he picked them up, so I could spend the day with Liv in peace, not having to duck out to answer a thousand phone calls. The Elliott’s weren’t happy about my fitting the bill for their visit to the ‘Burgh, but I insisted on treating them like royalty for the week they’d be in my city. Anyone with Livvy’s blood in their veins, deserved to be considered as such. No matter how strained the healing relationship between the three of them was, Tony and Liz were still her parents, and I’d give them that respect. Sure, the way they handled some situations with their daughter was lightyears beyond fucking foolish if you ask me, but that wasn’t my battle to fight.

I figured Revel was a happy medium for dinner on their first night. It was just hoity enough to impress them, but not stuffy enough to overwhelm them. I had to scoot Liv out the door first, knowing the dress pants and button up Ralph Lauren would’ve been a dead give away into my long list of fabrications this week. I had to work one-on-one with Tia to organize everything, directing her to keep my lady out late so I could get home first and change inconspicuously. But threaten her not to get Liv completely bombed so she wouldn’t be hung over for the surprise breakfast with her parents tomorrow morning. I only booked their hotel room for two nights, in hopes that this whole shebang wouldn’t pop off in my damn face, and Livvy would let the two of them finish out their visit at our place.

Once my helmet was strapped and locked to the bike, I turned the corner into the main lobby of the restaurant to make my way to the hostess chair. I made sure my guests were seated already, and followed the direction to our corner table, wiping two very sweaty hands on the inside lining of my slacks.

God, please don’t let them laugh me out of this place.

It was like looking straight into the face of Liv in 25 years when I locked eyes with Elizabeth, besides the blonde color of her hair, not matching her child’s now darker strands. I guess I hadn’t noticed the stark resemblance over the video chat. I smiled at the two of them, I could feel it was awkward and forced but I hoped they’d return the gesture regardless. The couple stood, and I greeted the lady first, doing my best to always mind the Ritter manners.

“So nice to meet you in person, Mrs. Eliiott. You and Livvy might as well be twins! I’m uh… I’m Colton.” Her smile wasn’t the warm, sunny one I’d grown so fond of with Liv, but she was kind enough.

Tony, patiently standing to my right, observed every little inch I moved. Typical of the father to a girl, I assumed.

“Oh, Colton, it is very nice to meet you finally. And you look so sharp!” Liz held my hand between both of hers, to appreciate the treasure of a man who could dress himself with some sense these days.

“Thank ya’, ma’am,” I blushed awkwardly. Compliments were never my strong suit.

“And Mr. Elliott, how are ya’ sir? Nice to see you.” I turned on the masculine shake when approaching her dad. My own father engrained the importance of a firm grip greeting as soon as I could talk.

“Enough with the formal stuff, Colton. Call me Tony. Although, I can admire the respect you have for your elders. To be honest, I didn’t expect such from a guy who beats people up for a living.”

Happy to shatter your stereotypical idea of me, man. But, I’d still break the nose of any fucker in this entire place who breathed the wrong way.

“Don’t let the scarred knuckles fool ya’, sir. I’m not a complete wild animal,” I tried to joke.

We sat, waiting to order, each scanning over the menu in tongue-tied silence before Liz finally broke the plain. “So, did Liv ever catch you in this big scheme, Colton? Does she know we’re here yet?”

“Actually, she’s completely clueless. Or, just letting on to be. But, she seems to be in the dark still. Ain’t real sure how I pulled it off, honestly. She usually reads me like a damn book.” I huffed with a scratchy laugh, quickly scolding myself internally for slipping a swear word.

“And this fight? Was it your idea? I mean, did you want her to get involved with it like you are?” Tony folded his menu, assumingly decided on his dinner choice, and focused he folded hands towards me. His tenor seemed almost snarky, but I was sure he hadn’t meant it that way, remembering Liv say he seemed somewhat excited over the idea.

“Actually, I hated the thought from the get-go. I lost my mind just when I thought it was all for fun. I begged her not to take it. But, you know 2-1 as well as I do. She shut me up real quick.”

“2-1?” Her mother cocked a confused smile of question.

“Oh, uhhh.. yeah. It’s just a little nickname I call her. She wears this old ratty hoodie around all the time with the number on the back. So, the name just kinda stuck.” I scratched my head before taking a generous gulp of water to lower the temperature of my smothering, sweating armpits.

“She talks about ball then? I mean, you’ve heard some about her days as a Warrior?” Tony interjected with round eyes.

“Definitely. I know it all, Mr. Elli… uh, Tony. We play sometimes on Sundays at this park down from our house. She kills me by 15+ every time.”

He smiled bittersweetly at the idea of his all-star with a ball in her hands again. And I, wanted to hit him for being so blind to the fact that she had so many other talents to be proud of, if he would just live in the now and see it.

Between our main course, and the dessert I ordered after listening to Liz read over the description in the menu more than three times, her dad brought up the inevitable. The “thing I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Okay, Colton. Now that you’ve treated us to that perfectly cooked slab of red meat, what did you want to talk with us about? Something to do with this fight, I’m sure.”

I swished another drink of water, although it was missing the bite of bourbon that I needed so fucking badly.

“Yeah, you could say that, I guess…” I answered him vaguely.

“Everything is okay though? You’re not worried for her anything, are you?” Elizabeth chimed in, sweeping a hair behind her ear, just the way Liv does.

“I’m worried for her, only because I love her. And when you walk up those steel steps, you’re takin’ a risk no matter who you are. But your daughter, she can hold her own. I see that now.” I reiterated to myself as much as her parents sitting across from me.

Tony and Liz looked away from me, now towards each other in both confusion and concern at my lack of response to the burning question of the entire damn night.

Being the coward I fucking am, and my very typical struggle for the right words, I did the only thing I knew to do that would clear the air, and satisfy their curiosity. I wriggled around in my seat, trying to loosen the opening of my pocket so I could reach in for the tiny, purple velvet box that had been burning a hole there since I left the house a couple of hours ago.

I neatly and gently placed it closer their side of the perfectly set table, and then looked down to fidget with my fingers. 

Her mom, the feminine instinct in her realizing immediately what was inside, reached for the box first, eagerly. A hand covered her opened jaw once she caught site of the custom cut, octagon shaped diamond, seated inside a silver band. The price was kept inside the secret space of a lock box I kept at the top of the closet, way beyond my housemates reach, to remind myself of the success that had allowed me to purchase something so extravagant, still not living up to what Liv really deserved. The jeweler laughed at the bizarre suggestion I had for an octagon shaped engagement diamond, but there was no convincing me into anything else. The cage was the very reason our relationship even began. Well, that along The Grind. And Drew and I had plans for that later. 

“Colton, speak up, son.” Tony leaned over to witness what had so thoughtfully touched his wife in the square shaped box. I couldn’t read his reaction, which sent my nerves straight to shit.

“Tony, I adore your daughter. That goes without sayin’….” I pasued, planning out every word in my head before I said it out loud. “I hurt her awhile back, something I still beat myself up over, and I never, ever want to see her cry like that again. I have issues of my own with anger, and I throw tantrums sometimes, but Livvy is my calm, ya’ know? She’s made me into this man who actually feels more than hate… and…. resentment. I would walk in front of a train for her, if it came to that.”

They sat very still in their seats, Liz wiping a tear here and there with the corner of her black cloth napkin, and Tony only furrowed his forehead, paying close attention to my professions.

“I didn’t know people were actually capable a’ lovin’ somebody else like this, but as soon as I think I love Livvy as much as anybody possibly could, she goes and proves my ass wrong.”

Strike two for sayin’ ass, Ritter. Liv’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap.

“I’m askin’ kindly, for a blessing from the two of you to ask Liv to marry me. It would mean a great deal to me, and I value the opinions of you both. But, if you can’t give it to me, I apologize, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life with your beautiful daughter no matter what. If she’ll have me.” I finished.

I had enough of my pop in me to know that asking for approval of the father was the right thing to do. But I had just enough thick-headed asshole in me, that I had decided on kneeling for Liv’s hand regardless of their approval. When your life once was a pathetic waste, and your mind is a dingy, manic hole like mine, you cling to any light like a fuckin’ firefly to flame. Liv was my chance, my reason. She was my light, and addiction.

“I think I can speak for Lizzie here too, when I say the respect you’ve shown us by asking, speaks a lot about your character. But Colton, this all seems a bit… rushed? I mean, it wasn’t long ago she was sitting in our dining room, explaining to us she had to flee the city for a week just to try and get some peace of mind after the way you hurt her. Now, the two of you are living together, and thinking about marriage?” Tony said.

“You’re exactly right. And, if Liv tells me she isn’t ready, then I’ll learn some patience and wait ‘til she is. But, as much as you love Mrs. Elliott here, I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying ‘when you know, you know’….”

I knew I was going to be pining for the girl the second I laid eyes on her static striken, matted hait that morning at the coffee shop. And I knew it again, the minute she walked out of Mac’s gym that night. As soon as the lingering of her sweet perfume had dissipated from that hallway, I felt my heart harden like cement.  

“Tony, you know was well as I do that Liv would want this. She loves him. Any time the sting from a breakup is as deep as she said it was, it’s meant to be.” I smiled to her mom for supporting the decision that her stern husband was still wrestling with.

There was silence while Liz devoured the chocolate desert the waiter had brought, offering me a taste, and once the check was delivered to me, an answer from the pair was still unknown.

“If ya’ want, you guys think it over. I know it’s a hefty decision,” I reasoned levelheaded.

“No need, Colton. My Livvy would never forgive me if she knew I didn’t give you my blessing.. If she loves you, and wants a life with you, well….then welcome to the family, boy.” Tony smiled, sliding the ring back, and I stood following his lead, to hug them both.

The most perfect, gorgeous, fuckin’ green eyed, smiley woman on this God forsaken earth, was going to share my last name. 

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

Previous

AO3

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment/ like/ reblog. I really appreciate it.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Chapter 5 : A Sneaky Set-up

I just have a few more questions for you, Ann. What if he shows up with another woman? What if one of my sleeves catches on fire and it spreads rapidly? What if, instead of Tic Tacs, I accidentally pop a couple of Ambien and I have to keep punching my leg to stay awake? -Leslie Knope, Parks and Recreation

Although the discreet lighting gave the Italian restaurant an intimate atmosphere, very few of the rays cast by the old, smoked glass lamps actually made it into the wooden booths favoured by Claire and Geillis on their frequent visits. Fortunately, this didn’t bother them, even though reading the menu proved to be a challenge.

“You did what, G?” Claire stared intently at her friend.  

Geillis continued to focus on her menu. “Ye ken, I canna read this damn thing. How do I decide what tae have?”

“Stop ignoring my question and put the bloody menu down, G. We come here all the time. You always have the same thing. Talk to me.”

Geillis peered over the top of her menu. “Ach, all I did was give yer phone number tae a certain gentleman I saw in the Emergency Department. I think his name was Jamie Fraser. I kent he was wi’ his nephew and I thought, just in case he may need some more medical advice for the wee lad, ye ken.”

From the corner of her eye, Claire could see the white shirt of a nearby waiter. She beckoned him over. “Hi, could we have two spaghetti with meatballs, please, with garlic bread to share and a bottle of Pinot Grigio? And could we have the wine as soon as possible, please?”

The waiter disappeared with assurances that the wine would be there straight away. Claire’s mind was in a whirl. On the one hand, the emotional side of her brain seemed to be doing its own little happy dance, complete with rockets and confetti, but was being tempered by the logical side, which featured disciplinary panels, codes of conduct and probably a deafening silence from Mr. Jamie Fraser.

A click of glasses announced the arrival of the wine. Declining the offer to taste it, Claire gratefully accepted a half full glass from the waiter and took a large gulp.

“But, why would you do that?” She resumed her questioning of Geillis. “Did you not think about professional conduct?”

“The way I see it is… point one…” Geillis counted off the points on her fingers. “Point one, Jamie Fraser isna and has ne’er been your patient. Point two, you gave a consultation tae his nephew, who has since been discharged from yer care. Point three, I didna give yer number tae yer patient, merely a relative. Point four, he has a useful contact if he’s worried about the wee laddie. And most importantly, I reckon he fits the first criteria for yer fling. I ken he was wearing jeans today, but they were verra well fitting, did ye no’ notice? So tall and broad, he has tae look good in a kilt… and no’ a disappointment out of it, I’m sure.”

Claire drained her wine. “Christ, these glasses don’t hold much, do they?”

She helped herself to a second. The happy dance in her head was being liberally pissed on by her brain’s logical side. “I’m still not sure about a relationship… sorry, fling. Besides, that’s not the point, he won’t ring, I know. Passive rejection, that’ll be.”

“For an intelligent woman, Claire, you do talk some shite sometimes. Frank really messed up yer mind. Can ye no’ see - ye’re beautiful and bright and funny? What man wouldna want a fling wi’ ye? God, if I were that way inclined, I’d have a go meself!”

Claire snorted into her wine. “I’m sure Dougal would have something to say about that!”

“Aye, that he would... including the words, ‘please,’ ‘do it,’ and ‘can I watch’... bless him.”

Two plates of spaghetti and meatballs appeared in front of them followed by a waiter brandishing a huge pepper mill. Geillis shook her head as the pepper mill hovered over her plate.

“I’m sure my friend would be interested in some, though.”

Claire nodded and tried not to catch Geillis’s eye as the pepper was added to her meal.

“D’ya like that grinder then, Claire?” Geillis giggled. ”Length and girth there, as with certain other things, I imagine. I’d be verra interested tae find out, wouldn’t ye, eh?”

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

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a very long and trying day. He loved looking after his nephew. He enjoyed their games, the time spent building with Duplo. He was looking forward to the day when they could progress to proper Lego. In fact, he had a whole box of it up in his loft, just waiting, including the seven and a half thousand pieces needed to build the Star Wars Millennium Falcon. It said ages nine to fourteen on the box, but Jamie was sure they could tackle that next year - once Wee Jamie had got out of the habit of licking all the blocks.

But today had been exhausting. The park had been fine until they started to chase the ducks and then, bang, Wee Jamie had gone flying over a partially concealed tree root, scattering the food for the ducks all round and bursting into noisy sobs. When even the promise of an ice cream had not halted the flow of tears, Jamie had suspected a more severe injury and whisked him straight off to the Emergency Department. Thankfully, it was only a sprain and Jamie had deposited his nephew back with Jenny and Ian generally undamaged, once he had made sure that the smell of chips no longer lingered on him.

Jamie poured himself a large whisky, added a dash of filtered water and settled down on his large burgundy sofa. He flicked idly through the channels on the television, before switching it off, enjoying the silence of his living room and contemplating the other interesting part of the visit to the hospital.

He now had the mobile number of Doctor... no, she was a surgeon, so it should be Miss… Claire Beauchamp. At least he hoped she was a miss, not a missus. But in that case, would that nurse have given him the phone number? Well, maybe she would have if it was just for professional reasons. So, was it professional only? That nurse said...

Things clicked into place in Jamie’s memory. He had seen that nurse before, when he was in the pub with Geneva last week. She was the one who leant over and claimed that tatty old napkin. Jamie tried, unsuccessfully, to remember what had been written on it but his mind was a blank. He must have been too busy gazing at her friend in the doorway… Claire Beauchamp, orthopaedic surgeon and owner of a mobile phone. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and unfolded the small piece of paper.  With his other hand, he lifted his phone and dialled.

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

Having managed to finish the meal without actually throttling Geillis to stop her constant stream of double entendres and suggestive comments, Claire was looking forward to taking advantage of the light summer nights and taking a refreshing walk back to her flat. However, as she stared out of the restaurant, she could see that was not going to happen. The sky was already dark, filled with heavy grey clouds. Rain lashed against the door and windows, with large puddles already forming on the pavement.  

“Have to be a taxi, then, G.” Claire fumbled in her oversized handbag for her mobile. “Oh, I’ve a missed call here… not one of my contacts. Probably one of those pain in the neck marketing calls. You know, you have recently been involved in a no-fault car accident and so on. Funny, you think I’d remember if I had been.” Claire felt herself babbling, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Let me see,” Geillis made a quick movement and snatched the phone from Claire’s hand.

“It’s a mobile number. You have such an unoriginal passcode, Claire.” She unlocked the phone and pressed redial, ignoring Claire’s feeble sounds of protestation.

“Here, it’s ringing.”

She passed the phone back. As Claire put the phone to her ear, she heard the call connect.  

“Hello?”

Claire immediately recognised the deep, Scottish burr from earlier in the day. She swallowed and tried to move further away from Geillis, who was straining like a dog on a leash to get as close as possible to the phone, avid to hear every single word of the conversation.

“Hello, this is Claire Beauchamp. I’ve got a missed call from this number? Who is this, please?” She was conscious of how formal and English she sounded and how she was lying.

“Hello, this is Jamie Fraser. We met earlier today at the hospital with ma nephew, Jamie Murray?”

“Ah yes, is there a problem? Is your nephew alright?”

Jamie’s heart sank. So the nurse had given her number for professional reasons. “Aye, he’s grand. No, it’s no’ that…” He hesitated.  

Jamie was rarely lost for words, with an appropriate phrase for every occasion and a set of charming chat up lines - none of which he wanted to use on this woman. No cheesy chat up line for Claire, just plain honesty.

“I’m glad that nurse gave me yer number. In the hospital, I was wondering if I should ask ye for yer number. But then ye disappeared afore I had chance. So, I was wonderin’ if ye would like tae go out wi’ me sometime this week or next week. Fer a meal, or a drink. If ye’re no’ able, I understand. I ken ye must be busy.” Jamie decided to shut up before he managed to talk her out of this date completely.

Claire turned her back on Geillis who was now making kissing noises and licking her lips seductively.

“Yes, thanks, that would be very nice.” She screwed her nose up in disgust. I must sound like a old maiden aunt to him, she thought, enough to make him go off me before anything’s even begun. “Lovely. I’d like that very much.”

“OK, weel, now ye have my number, how about ye text me when ye’re free. As a doctor, I guess ye’re no’ too flexible… with dates, I mean.”

“I’ll check my diary at home and get back to you. Bye, Jamie”

“Bye then Claire.” Jamie put the phone down and finished his whisky.  Now he just had to wait for Claire to text him.

Claire turned to Geillis. “I think I’ve got a date”

Geillis made an exaggerated bow. “Thank ye. My work here is done. I would say to name yer firstborn after me, but as this is a fling that willna happen. So, all I ask is that ye tell me all the gory details. Every little, or no’ so little, thing. Dinna leave anything out. Deal?”

Claire laughed “G, you are obsessed.”

“Aye, But ye love me anyways!”

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

Claire: I’ve checked my diary and I would be free on Thursday evening. Are you ok with that date?  Claire

Jamie Fraser: Thursday is fine with me too. Any type of food you don’t like?

Claire: Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you with that text. Didn’t realise the time.

Claire : I’m fine with most food, although I have a confession

Jamie Fraser: That’s ok. I wasn’t asleep

Jamie Fraser: Confession? That sounds interesting. Should I get a priest?

Claire: Haha. Not that serious, although you may be shocked when you hear it

Jamie Fraser:  Go on. Not sure I like where this is going

Claire: I don’t like haggis

Claire: ...

Claire: or deep fried mars bars

Jamie Fraser: Well that’s all my restaurant choices gone then. Maybe go for Italian? Would that be ok?

Sassenach: That would be lovely

Jamie Fraser: OK. I will book it and let you know the arrangements.  

Sassenach: Goodnight Jamie

Jamie Fraser: Night Claire

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Student Loans, Part 2

Modern Sugar!Daddy AU

Leonard McCoy x Reader

A/N: Commission series for the amazing @captain-princess-smash !

Summary: You are a single gal, trying to pay your way through medical school. Working a side job at Kirk’s, a local pub, as a bartender and most nights, fight referee. Your boss, Jim, is an all around good guy and always gives you extra shifts when you need it. During one of your shifts, Jim’s long time friend, Leonard McCoy aka Hot Doctor, pops in and Jim introduces you to him. Instantly, the two of you hit it off and after spending the rest of the night chit chatting, Leonard gives you a proposal. A very sweet proposal: He wants to be your Sugar Daddy, he wants you to be his companion on demand. In exchange, he would pay your way through medical school, along with anything else you might need.

You, of course, told him he was crazy, that there was no way you’d be someone’s Sugar Baby!

Right? Right?

Except, you did need help paying for school and the doctor was awfully attractive and smart and kind..

Maybe…it wouldn’t be such a bad idea..

Masterlist

The coffee shop was quiet as you sat at a table reading over some notes from class, trying to act as natural as possible and not like someone who was about to meet her sugar daddy.

God, that title made you squirm, but that was the name of the game.

And as if right on cue, Leonard McCoy walked in - looking every bit the handsome finely aged doctor he was.

It took him all but twenty seconds to find you, sauntering over in a vintage looking leather jacket and dark jeans, his chest showing a bit from under his white button up.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologized, taking a seat, “I had an emergency call. You weren’t waiting long?”

“No, no,” you waved a hand in the air and smiled. “Besides, I was looking over some notes. I have a test tomorrow.”

“Need help studying?”

You laughed and declined, asking how his day was going so far.

“Well, now that I get to see your beautiful face.”

“Oh, wow, you use that on all your girls?”

Leonard chuckled and shook his head. “No other girls, not part of the deal. And to be honest, I hardly have time for one woman, can’t imagine having two.”

“An honest man,” you mused.

“I try,” he shrugged, asking if you wanted anything. “Coffee? Sandwich? It’s on me.”

“I could go for another cup of coffee,” you agreed, looking down at your watch. You had about two hours left until class and then a late shift at Kirk’s. “Make it an espresso.”

“Not good for you,” Leonard frowned, laughing when you gave him a pout. “But I’m not your doctor. So espresso it is.”

You watched as he got up and couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down to his ass - a fine one at that. You wondered if he workout or maybe it was all the walking he did all over the hospital and before you could help it - you were thinking about how he looked under the clothes.

“No, no, no,” you muttered to yourself, closing your binder and placing it back into your bag.  This was strictly business, a means to an end and that end was your student loans.

That was the big picture you had to focus on and not the fine doctor walking up to you.

“Here you go, darlin’.”

You thanked him as he settled back into his seat and the two of you sat quietly for a moment - surprisingly it wasn’t awkward, it was nice. It felt natural, just sitting across from him as you sipped on your expensive coffee and he drank from cup. For a brief moment, the tiniest moment, it felt like the two of you were actually a couple.

Until it was all shattered with Leonard’s mention of a bank card.

“What?”

“Here,” he pushed a black card across the table, “it’s for whatever you need. Did you bring the papers?”

“I did,” you said, shoving the card into your jacket pocket.

Leonard watched patiently as you fetched the student loan file from your bag, sliding it over just as he did with the card. “It’s all there, most of it anyway.”

Without looking at it, Leonard moved the file to the side and continued to drink his coffee. “So, I made reservations to a new restaurant downtown. I was hoping you’d be free tonight.”

“I have class in a bit and a shift at the bar, but it’s a Wednesday and we’re never busy in the early evening. I’m sure Jim will let me off early.”

Leonard smiled like a child who had just gotten his way. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

“I can’t wait,” you replied. “Should I dress a little more formal?”

“It’s a bit upscale, if that’s what you’re asking,” he explained, setting his cup down. “Use that card to get yourself a new outfit.”

You opened your mouth to object, but he stood up, sighing down at his watch. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I have to run back to the hospital. Please, get yourself something nice.”

Not really knowing what to say, you smiled and asked if he had any color preferences.

“Black’s always classic.”

“Duly noted.”

Leonard grinned and winked at you, before calling out to the barista and thanking her for the drinks. He gave you one more smile before he disappeared out the door. You waited a moment before inhaling deeply, pulling out the card from your pocket.

“Holy..”

It was an Amex card and suddenly, very suddenly, you felt a little dirty.

Student loans. Student loans.

Closing your eyes, you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Hell, it’s a job, that’s how you had to look at the situation - like a job.

A job that included being wined and dined by an extremely attractive and charismatic man.

Shit, you could do worse.

An alarm went off on from your phone and you realized it was time to head to class, you were going to meet a classmate to go over more notes. Tucking the Amex card safely into your wallet, you gathered your things and started toward the door - walking past the display case.

Stopping, a little wicked smile fell from your lips and you decided maybe a few muffins to go wouldn’t hurt Dr. McCoy’s bank account.

“Hi,” you smiled brilliantly at the barista. “Can I get a box of muffins to go?”

…

“How was class?”

Jim was drying glasses as you filled a pitcher of beer for a few college students sitting at a booth. “It was good, had these delicious muffins.”

“Okay,” Jim laughed. “Muffins are good.”

“They’re even better on someone else’s dime,” you hinted, gaining Jim’s full attention.

It took him a few seconds, but his blue eyes lit up and he smirked. “So you decided to take up my pal on his offer?”

“Does that make me a sex worker?”

Jim snorted and threw the wash cloth at you. “You two will get along just fine, go take that pitcher to the table. I’m gonna refill the peanut bowls.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

...

The rest of your shift had gone smoothly, hell, any shift without breaking up a fight was a good shift. You leaned against the back of the bar counter and watched as Jim served a couple a round of beers. There were a dozen questions you had about Leonard, questions you knew your boss could answer, but you weren’t sure if you should.

“Just spit it out,” Jim sighed, stepping up to you. He smiled as you asked what he was talking about, giving a little laugh as he leaned against the counter. “Whatever questions you have about Bones, just ask.”

“Okay,” you inhaled deeply, crossing your arms against your chest. “Why do you call him Bones?”

“That’s none of your business,” Jim deadpanned and you snorted. “I’m kidding. It started when he was in medical school, we were roommates at the time. Always studying, always in a bad mood. Told him he was a grump down to the bones.”

“And there you go.”

Jim smiled. “Yup. Okay, next question.”

You thought for a moment carefully and decided to just hit the home run. “He does this often? The whole girlfriend on demand thing?”

“I like you,” Jim started and you groaned, asking if it was that bad. “No, I was just saying I like you.”

“Jiiiiim.”

He laughed and held his hands up in the air. “Alright, alright. All I’m gonna say is that Leonard is a good man, the best I know. He doesn’t screw around, he’ll be upfront about what he wants and honestly, it isn’t much. He’s really just looking for a companion.”

Taking it all in, you pushed from the counter and nodded to the bar door. “Speak of the devil.”

“Bones,” Jim called out to his friend, who walked over with a soft smile.

You looked down at your watch as Leonard sat on a bar stool. “You’re early, my shift isn’t over for another two hours.”

“Ah, well, I cancelled the reservations,” he explained and you glanced over at Jim before asking why. “I thought you’d like a more relaxed setting.”

“Are you insinuating I’m not fancy enough for a fancy restaurant?”

Jim laughed at your teasing and Leonard smirked. “Never. I just don’t want to deal with the uptight of this city tonight. We can reschedule if you’d like.”

“No, no,” you pressed, nodding to Jim. “He’s gonna let me off right now and we can go grab some pizza.”

“I am?”

Leonard and you glared over at Jim, who laughed and for the second time of the day, held his hands up in defense. “The bar’s not busy, you two kids go have fun.”

“I haven’t been a kid in decades,” Leonard said, getting up from his seat. “But I can sure go for a slice of pizza.”

…

The night was cool as the two of you settled outside the pizzeria, opting for a corner table on the patio. The two of you decided to split a large pizza, threw a whole bunch of toppings and ordered two beers.

“Should you be drinking, Doctor?”

Leonard laughed and shook his head. “One beer isn’t gonna get anyone killed, besides, I’m not on call tonight.”

“So does that mean I have you all to myself?”

“That it does,” he answered, sending you a bright smile.

You returned the gesture and asked how work was. He shrugged and said it was the usual chaotic hell. “Wow, you make being a doctor sound so fun.”

“It’s your funeral..”

“Hey,” you warned and he smirked. “Keep talking me out of my career goals, my pockets are feeling heavier by the second.”

Leonard shook his head and chuckled. “I wouldn’t want that, now would I? Who am I gonna take out for late night pizza?”

“Another sugar baby,” you pointed out, taking a a bit of your pizza.

“Good lord, that title sounds ridiculous.”

“So does sugar daddy, Sugar Daddy.”

You eyed the doctor, who held your gaze until he cracked a smile and you laughed, shifting in your seat. “So tell me something, Bones.”

“Oh, god, not you too..”

“You’re a handsome man -”

“- I like where this is going,” he beckoned for you to go on, so you did.

“Is it really just the lack of time? Or is dating that hard for an attractive, successful doctor?”

Leonard placed down his beer and leaned back into his chair - and for a split second, you couldn’t think of a hotter man. “All of it. My last girlfriend was my high school sweetheart. We went to college together, but we ended things before graduation and I took off to medical school. It’s been over a decade and a man -”

“- has needs,” you said softly, looking down at your pizza.

There it was again, sex.

He had said it was off the table, but you felt conflicted.

This was supposed to be like a job, but sitting across from Leonard, you couldn’t help but like him. He was sarcastically delightful, easy on the eyes, Jim said he was a good man.

And Jim never lied, he was a good man too.

“Listen,” Leonard spoke firmly, interrupting your inner struggle. “I don’t expect sex. What I do expect is for you to enjoy your time with me. When that stops happening, then we have a problem.”

Feeling the weight from your shoulders disperse, you grinned. “Sounds good.”

“Good,” he beamed, reaching for his beer. “Cheers to us.”

….

It was nearly 11PM when Leonard pulled up next to your car in Kirk’s parking lot. Music came seeping in through the bar windows and you noted a few cars belonging to regulars. You sighed softly and looked over to Leonard, who cut the engine.

“Thank you for a wonderful night, Bones.”

“You really gonna stick with that?”

You shrugged playfully. “I’m just feeling it out.”

“Oh, good.”

The sarcasm that rolled off his tongue made you laugh and you thanked him again for dinner.

“No problem, you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

“I’m good, I have class in the morning,” you explained, retrieving your car keys from your bag.

“Thank you for coming out tonight with me, I’ll call you soon,” he promised and you said okay, opening the passenger door. Your heart pounded as the cool breeze of the night hit your face and suddenly, you were feeling very brave.

Turning to face Leonard, you reached over and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him toward you. His lips hit yours hard and it felt deliciously naughty as you groaned against his mouth, pulling away slowly until your eyes met his.

He looked taken aback and for some reason that made you proud.

Grabbing your bag, you turned to him and smiled.

“Goodnight, Leonard.”

The doctor half laughed and shook his head. “Night, darlin’.”

Student Loans tags: @capty-cp @kawaiiusagichansan @silenceofmidnite @outside-the-government @lurkch @kystoro @anyakinamidala @land-of-the-forgotten @boldlywritingtrek@ilikethatkidoverthere @mundane-cup-noodles @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @bookcaseninja @jefferson-in-the-tardis @chook007@sebtheromanianprince @blackloveangel13 @mrskokitztelford @dwarvenbunnyears @clockscountingbackwards @texasblue @tomhiddlesmom @tardistrash @yourtropegirl @pheonix16 @arrowsshootyouforwards @running-outta-time @angelicstormz @thinkwritexpress-official  @one-to-beam-up @miridarling @theonlyparadox @reading-in-moonlight @superromijn @thedaydreamerrrrr @bsotstory

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Those in bold can not be tagged.

[lifeof-quietdesperation]

First sentence prompt: Is there a reason you never say my first name?

Is there a reason you never say my first name?

When we first met in university, years, eons, a lifetime ago, I shook your hand and introduced myself. We were at a party, an orientation of sort, and everyone was at least 3 beers in. I looked you in the eye, and gave my best impression of a functioning, sophisticated adult, complete with a firm, albeit slightly sweaty, handshake.

“Alex Moffat. Nice to meet you.”

Cool as a clam, you nodded, shook my hand, and said nothing about my clammy hands. That, I think, was what made me fall in love with you.  

But even then, you never called me by my first name. It was always “hey”, or “Moff”, sometimes “babe”, but never Alex.

Not even when we ended up in the same lecture theatre the following semester, always sitting rows apart, with me somewhere in the middle by the aisle while you only ever took the back-row seat closest to the exit. Not even when we became friends and met up regularly at the school cafeteria, arguing over coffee the different nihilistic viewpoints in Bojack Horseman versus Rick and Morty.

Not even when we started hanging out outside of school, in your room, in my room, in the mall, at the movies, in restaurants.

Not even when you first kissed me, in the alcove on the third floor of the library, amidst dusty aisles and even older books. Nothing more than a quick peck between furtive glances, my heart beating so rapidly and loudly in the quiet stillness of the library. You turned and walked away before I could say anything, and even then, after the two hundred and twenty-four times I’ve called you by your name, you’ve never once called me by mine.

Not even when we first had sex, in my apartment while my roommates were out. In the dark, on my bed with freshly laundered 180-thread count sheets. Right before you came, you bit my shoulder and I think I heard you breathe “Moff” as you licked your bitemarks, soft kisses as if in apology for biting me. I was too busy coming my brains out to pay attention.

Not even when we bumped into my parents after dinner one day outside our regular restaurant near campus, and they stood in front of us expectantly, eyebrows raised, until I had no choice but to introduce you as a friend from school. Dad shook your hand, and asked, genteel and polite, if I have been good in school. I thought you’d be spooked, seeing how Dad has had a reputation in school for being a strict, no-nonsense professor, but you took it all in stride, looked him in the eye unblinkingly and returned his strong and sturdy handshake. “Moff’s the best,” you said, never once breaking eye contact.

Not even when I finally introduced you to my best mates, in a pub after tutorial one evening, and we spent the entire night complaining about school and drinking ourselves silly. You had been standoffish, bordering on rude, and I got a little annoyed but you made it up to me that night with gentle kisses and soft murmurings, saying how you weren’t good with new people but you’ll try harder next time, for me.  

I never once dared to ask you why. You were the cool, mature one in the relationship and I didn’t want you to think less of me and my petty concerns.

Perhaps, it was a cute couple’s nickname thing. No one called me “Moff” but you. It felt like a secret, a code, something special for just the two of us.

You have never once stayed the night, and that was perhaps when I started putting the pieces together.

We never met each other’s friends, never held hands in public, never had sex facing each other.

Perhaps I’d always known, deep inside, why you never called me “Alex”.

With “Moff”, or “babe”, perhaps, you could tell yourself you were dating a regular girl. The girl-next-door you could bring home to show your parents. The girl you could settle down and start a family with. The girl you could grow old with.

You can never call me by my name, but I’ll always be Alex Moffat, the boy who fell in love with you after a single handshake.

______________

There’s a reason why I’ve never called you by your name.

You probably realised it early in our relationship but being the kind and gentle soul that you are, you never brought it up. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop but it has been months and you never said a word.

You remind me so much of him. You have the same eyes, a beautiful pale blue around the edges of your irides with spots of brown towards the center. I’ve always loved your eyes. I could never be the first to look away, for staring at your eyes made me feel like I was floating in the cosmos, drifting, unanchored, drowning. “Partial heterochromia”, you said, abashed, as you tried to shield your eyes from me, “probably genetic because my dad has them too.”

Your shoulders are almost identical, skinny and slightly stooped, except you have a little mole on your left shoulder and in the throes of passion, I sometimes find myself biting into it during sex, perhaps, subconsciously, in an effort to rid you of the marring on your skin, and make your shoulders identical to the ones I loved so.

Even your mannerism, the way your long fingers move in gesture as you often do when you get excited. So expressive, so elegant, so like him. Even your slightly awkward gait, the way you slouch and seem to close in on yourself to make yourself seem smaller when you’re unsure and hesitant. On you, it seemed like a sign of uncertainty, but on him, it looked like a quirk, a characteristic trait, but I guess he has had years on you, growing into his own skin.

Even your idiosyncrasies, the way you absentmindedly correct someone’s grammar mid-sentence, and when I call you out on it, as I often do to him too, you shrug and say, “society as we know it would collapse without some semblance of rules and regulations, and adhering to proper grammar structure is my way of keeping the world’s balance. That’s just how I was raised. A grammar superhero.”

Even the way you look at me when you’re aroused, eyes blown, with quick flutterings of your eyelids, and the slight tilt of your head tells me you’re thinking about sex. That soft moan you make when I kiss your collarbone, how you’re slightly ticklish around your lower back, the way your sensitive pale skin flushes with beard burn when I get a little overzealous, but always hidden under your clothes, out of sight for he has trained me a little too well to leave visible marks above the collar.

I knew who you were the moment I saw you at the orientation party. How could I not? God knows he has mentioned you enough. Our conversations almost always include you, and I admit, I’ve always been a little envious of the love between the two of you, and even though you were never where we were, I’ve never felt good enough for him, worthy enough, special enough. A dirty secret never is.

I’ve never called you by your name because that’s not what I called him. I’ve never called you by your name because a part of me knew that I would be shattering the illusion that I’m with him instead of you. WIth the number of similarities between the two of you, I have always gotten away with imagining him in your place. It’s sick, I know, but it’s the only way I can have him, and I’ll have him any way I can.

We bumped into him, the other day. A sick perverse part of me wanted to be called out, for you to realise what I’ve been doing behind your back, behind his back, for me to finally embrace him in broad daylight, for him to accept me for who I am, and for him to accept himself for who he was, and has always been. But I saw the look of sheer panic in his eyes, gone in a flash, too quick for you to have picked up. So I plastered on a fake smile, shook his hands, and told him how you great you were, all the while referring to him instead.

It was in that moment, I think, that he realised what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been treating you. It was in that moment that he saw me for the disgusting, vile creature that I’ve always been.

I only call you “Moff”, for that’s what I called him too.

He tried to make me call him by his first name, when we first met, when I was but a fresh-faced undergraduate. But I couldn’t, for he will always be Professor to me. He had laughed when I called him that in bed, chiding me gently for reminding him of his age. So we came to a compromise, last name at the very least, if I could bear it, he teased. I found that I couldn’t. Moffat sounded too stuffy, too formal, too distant, and so I shortened it to Moff.

Maybe if I had met you first, I would be contented with what we have. I do love you, but it’s a warped, distorted kind of love, a love that’s an extension of the all-consuming love I feel for him. A love that makes me giddy and breathless, at being given the chance to imagine what it would be like if he were twenty years younger, if I had met him as a peer at a campus party like how I met you, if we could be with each other the way I’ve been with you.

I can never call you by your name, because you have never been anything but Moff to me, and I will probably never love anyone the way I love him.

[the-fangirlingwriter]

love, alcohol and movie sets

inspired by “I’m Drunk, I Love You”

"Ready, guys?" Direk shouts over the increasing noise. We nod in reply, and he returns his gaze to the rest of the staff. "Quiet on the set! Now, three, two, one, action."

"Elise," Dante utters, bringing my focus back to him. "I want you to know that I didn't do anything you wouldn't like. I don't know what the others are saying, but whatever they are I would never do those horrible things to you."

He says this as he opens a green bottle of alcohol, then hands it to me. Sort of like a peace offering. It says so in the script, but the audience doesn't get to see that. They're left to interpret it as an obligatory gesture, but never as something straight from the past. Nothing ever stays the same, as real and as pure as the source material when it's adapted into something else.

I take the object from his hand, pausing for a few seconds and finally taking a swig. He does the same, visibly anxious as he waits for my reply and I take my time to think about a particular scene in the book that didn't make it to the final script. It's about the first time Elise and Carlos went out alone, and it remains a cute, fond memory in my mind.

It's described to be at the early stages of their friendship, when they were first getting used to each other in person, like how one would wear a new pair of shoes slightly different from what they're used to. In the first month of freshman year, Carlos asked my character if she would accompany him to the nearby convenience store. Elise, lovestruck as ever and of course wanting more of his time, predictably said yes. 

I remember Elise eliciting a happy "Yay!" from him when she said sure, and how she was frowning a little because he sounded so nervous when he did so, like he was asking--admitting, rather, to doing something wrong. 

He asks her if  she wanted anything. She replies no, that she was fine, thank you. but he gets her a can of beer anyway, even though Elise didn't drink the beverage. But life has its funny ways, because fast forward to senior year and they're into the harder stuff, drinking in pubs and participating in drinking games in their organization's house. 

His voice takes me back to reality, and I'm thankful that I needed to look like I spaced out lest the director asked for another take. This was our fourth, and the wasted alcohol didn't really sit well with my conscience. "Please, say something."

I stare at him with searching eyes, recalling the lines and preparing myself to project them. It was a miracle that I could still remember them at this point. "Really? Then would you kindly tell your friend to stop, please? This was supposed to be a fun trip to La Union-- you and me. It was supposed to be just the two of us, then you brought her along and the rest of your squad followed." I chug down a swig, closing my eyes and feeling the fizz of the beverage. 

Switching to a more accusatory tone, I say, "I don't even know why you decided to have a girlfriend without telling me first. I mean, it's your life, but I'm still your best friend." I bite my lip after the last sentence. The words sting-- both as myself Alicia and as my character Elise. Emotional instability wasn't something anyone would welcome, but today, right here, right now, at this moment, it's all I ever want. "It would be nice to know how my best friend's life is going."

"She's not my girlfriend," he exclaims immediately after I finish my sentence. It's not like him in real life to (almost, in this case) cut off people, and he's just that polite that it rubs off on his character during filming. Luckily he's an actor so he plays it off smoothly, like everything else that he does. "Ashley's not my type. I just couldn't say no to her since our moms are friends. Come to think of it, maybe that's how she found out about the trip."

My head falls slightly to the side, my eyes tracing the soft curl of his long eyelashes, which are longer than my own. "Yeah...maybe." "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Elise."

Redemption sets in, and at this point Elise makes sense of what happened but still holds a little grudge. A little indifferent, I say, "I forgive you." "Paolo and the others are heading to the club later. I think Ashley's going with them." I make a face at the sound of so many lights, sweat and dirty sexual intention, and he continues with the trace of an amused look on his face. "I know we both don't like those kinds of environments, so what do you think about a peaceful night out? Just the two of us?" 

I pretend to consider his suggestion. In my mind-- and Elise's-- it was a definite yes. Nothing else.

"Please, let me make it up to you. I know things haven't been the greatest, but this is what we had in mind at the very start, so even just for a short while, maybe we could-"

"Sure, Carlos," I smile. "Why not?"

He looks rather pleased, and relieved at my reply. "Thank you. Thank you so much." He reaches out for a hug, which I cherish more than I should since Dante would never hug me like this in real life. 

"I've missed you, Carlos. I can't wait for tonight." Dante gets up to leave, cueing me to lower my voice to a soft whisper, but still audible enough for the microphone to hear. "Just us. Again. Like the old days."

But the audience doesn't get to see that.

We move quickly to the next location-- a beach already decorated with all sorts of lanterns and occupied by a bunch of extras. I'm ushered almost immediately to get into wardrobe when we arrive-- and moments later I'm sporting a pair of frayed denim shorts, a loose, bohemian white cardigan and a flowing mauve top. The platinum blonde streak in my slightly wavy brown hair is incredibly prominent at this point, since Elise often wore her hair in a bun. Later in the movie, however, we film a scene where she's wearing a braid. At least, that's what I've heard from my stylist.

I get out of wardrobe about the same time as Dante (shocker), who's wearing a pair of dark blue swimming trunks and a fitting white shirt. Honestly, what is it about white shirts that make guys--especially the ones you like--look even hotter than usual? 

In fact, why is Dante Ashford so attractive? To others, he may not look like much, but to me he is everything from the stars and the sun and beyond. It baffles me how I find him-- a guy with honestly mediocre looks-- so incredibly beautiful.

Maybe that's the magic of love.

The next scene consists of Carlos and Elise laying on the pure, white sand, having a conversation just on the edge of teasing before both of them strip down to their bathing suits and head to the water, creating more sexual tension just in time for Elise to get even more drunk and almost confess her feelings for Carlos. The key factor here is just that-- the alcohol, and I'm a tad bit worried (as well as secretly hoping) that I will parallel Elise's situation.

Hah. Like I wasn't already.

I push away my worries, remembering my "alcohol tolerance training". A few months before the shoot, I tested my boundaries for alcohol and drank a little more each time to help my body get used to it. Probably not the healthiest thing to do, but it proved useful since that scene from earlier. I have a stronger alcohol tolerance now, but Dante doesn't know that and tonight is all the more reason for him not to. 

Maybe, if I convince myself that I'm drunk enough, I might be able to confess my feelings for him. 

I just hope it doesn't get a little too awkward.

Playing in the water is a piece of cake-- it's not hard to fake fun when you're with the person you love. Heck, you don't even have to. All emotions that you feel-- you don't fake. You just mask. "Aah!"

I slip on the sand-- I slip on the fucking sand and grab desperately on the closest thing to me-- Dante's arms. I try to ignore that my head is against his bare chest, that we're out in the beach with so many people watching us and I am in a bikini and this is not in the script at all--and just go along with it.

Dante's good at improv, and so am I, but I hold my breath and hope anyway that he'll catch on.

He does. Laughing lightly, he asks, "You okay?" 

"Yeah," I reply, raising my head and looking into his eyes, mine wide. His pupils are dilated, which I assume is from the beginning sunset and the sheer lack of lighting. "Thank you." 

Time stops. We're standing there, looking, alternating between the sunset and the other's eyes, and nothing else matters. It's just me and him. Carlos and Elise. Dante and Alicia. Alone. 

Just like the old days.

I remember that Elise's shy, so I look down on my hands and back away. Returning to the script, I splash him again with water and utter a few sentences of dialogue, and we're off to the next scene.

Alcohol is fucking delicious.

There's a scene in the film where we go to a restaurant after swimming, so we're dressed a little more formally this time. I'm wearing a black dress that's just slightly revealing my legs and he's wearing black slacks and a red button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows (please fucking kill me) but the content in the scene is not as classy.

Carlos, being the driver, can't drink. But I'm the passenger and the restaurant has a wide selection of high-quality drinks, so I get to taste Heaven. Poor Carlos. I'm lucky to be Elise.

"You know, Elise," Dante says, taking a bite of blueberry cheesecake. "I think we should go out here more often. Just us, no one else." I raise an eyebrow.

"And I'll make sure Ashley and the others won't find out."

"Maybe we could go somewhere else. Explore. El Nido, maybe?

"That would be nice, if I had enough money." 

He erupts into a fit of giggles, and soon enough I'm laughing along with him. Carlos and Elise are rich, but not rich enough that would allow them to go on a trip by plane. Road trips are the best option...for now.

"Someday, Carlos. We'll go to El Nido and swim with the fishes and who knows, you might even step on a sea urchin."

"My father stepped on a sea urchin once, when he was younger. History will not repeat itself this time."

"Hah! We'll see."

"Excuse me."

The waiter arrives, smiling at us as he places a glass of pale gold substance on the table. "Caribou Lou, ma'am, sir. Enjoy."

Dante eyes the drink, which I take away from his gaze and give him a teasing look. He pouts, making me giggle before I took a sip. "Mm. Tastes like pineapple. Then there's coconut and...oh! Rum. Of course."

"I wish I could have a sip, but I'm the designated driver so..."

"Want one?" 

"Are you kidding me? That's like, almost pure alcohol. I'd advise you to be careful, but you already ordered."

"Hee hee! You know you love me."

It doesn't take long for me to finish the drink. Same goes for the effect. A few chugs and it feels like I'm tripping on LSD. Just a little tipsy though, as one might say.

"All right, we better get home before the alcohol really gets to your system," he says, calling the waiter for the bill.

"Aww, but I'm having a lot of fun!" I stomp my feet in a quick succession, pouting and giggling almost a little too loudly. I hate to say it, but the alcohol's starting to take effect-- even more quickly than I expected. I wonder how I'm even able to create a sentence without another interrupting my train of thought.

"Let's go, Elise." He pays the bill and helps me stand up, and I grin and cling to his arm. 

We walk out the door, ending the scene with a lot more authenticity than I had in mind.

But, of course, the audience doesn't get to know that unless we tell them in an interview.

The next scene is horrendous. I'm supposed to sing--badly, might I add, for the whole trip back to out hotel. It's very short, although humiliating, and there's no doubt it will become a joke of some sort before and after release of the film. I actually want to forget about it-- drunk me is so embarrassing and no one else has to know that.

Another thing no one else has to know about is my big, fat crush on the man I’m playing opposite to. Elise, sadly, doesn’t end up with Carlos, and dear God am I so afraid that it will happen to me too..

I didn’t have to worry about it for the time being, though. By some fantastic miracle we were able to shoot without any Freudian slips or anything of the sort. I survived...

But I'm not sure about after filming. It's a wrap for the day and it's so incredibly boring because for the amount of alcohol I drank I didn't even get DRUNK like what the fuck?? Weak shit??? Omg??

The world is a happy, happy place. But then it's also sad because there's AIDS and HIV and people are dying and there's world hunger and there's war in Iran and in Syria and the Philippines is still a third world country and can Asians be sexy oh wait that's a video right HAHAHAHA

Whycan'tpeopleloveme? Sad.

Why is the car stopping what why am I in a car oh hahaha

Right 

I'm in a movie shoot

HAHAHA just got home at midnight you fuckers 

No fucking curfew bitchhh

Such a fucking ADULT

Oh hey someone's here to escort me to my room! Wow he looks so...HOT! 

So...HOT!

"Heeeyyyyy." I grin, taking his hand and stepping out the door. My legs feel like jelly...but why?

"Oh no, Alicia," he replies. He looks worried. Who's Alicia?

"Don't you...love meee?"

"What?"

"Love. Me. Who's Alicia?"

"That's you."

I guess he got impatient with me so he just picked me up and carried me to a room? Ugh. Guy doesn't know how to wait. What. A. Turnoff. 

Still cute though.

"You know...hm....whaaat's your name?" 

"Dante. Dante, Alicia. You need some water."

He takes a bottle of...ev...evia...evi From his bag and hands it to me. 

"This is sealed...isn't it? You're not....drug..me?"

He looks at me in the eye. "No, Alicia. Never."

I plop myself on the bed, opening the bottle and draining it halfway through. "Aaaah! Thank you, kind sir! Your kindness...will forever be appreciated! Kaso...walang...forever..."

A wave of sadness washes over me and tears begin to prick my eyes. "Walang...forever..."

He places a hand on my shoulder and speaks. "Alicia, you need to rest. We still have shooting tomorrow. Actually, I do, and you don't...but still. Go to sleep."

His voice is soooooo soothing. I want..this man...so...hot...

But my heart belongs to another. Someone...hotter than him. This guy looks like a nerd.

"You can't-" I throw off his hand. "touch me! My heart belongs to someone else."  His face falls. "Really?"

"Yes. He's...hotter than youu. And I think he loves me."

"Well, good luck with him."

"I'll tell you who it is, but keep it a secret, okay?" I giggle, then look at him in all seriousness. 

"Alicia-"

"I love..."

The morning after

What happened last night?

My head is pounding. Horribly. And I can't remember anything after going to dinner. 

I look down. I'm wearing a t-shirt and shorts, certainly not the black dress I wore last night. My heart rushes into a frenzy. Who changed my clothes? How did I get back to the hotel? Who was I with? What did I do?

Just how drunk was I?! 

"Dante," I spoke in a hushed voice. "What happened last night?"

Dante's on his lunch break and my head still hurts a little bit, but it's a lot easier to walk around now as compared to this morning. 

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks. 

"Yes now what happened last night?"

"You really can't remember?" he asks, an edge of amusement present in his tone.

"What does it look like?"

"We shot the restaurant and car scene. You drank Caribou Lou, remember? You were hopelessly drunk."

I pressed further. "And?"

"I led you back to your hotel room."

"Who fucking changed my clothes?"

"Ricoletta. It's Ricoletta."

The half-Italian girl who plays one of my friends. "Then?"

He hides a smile at the last second. "That's it."

"...No way."

"Yes way."

"I do not believe you for one second. I swear, the crew laughs when I pass by." There are a handful of scenes left to film, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle the torture for the rest of the month.

"They do? Same with me." "Dante!"

"That's all, I promise you."

"You may be an actor but I know when you're lying to me, Dante."

"I'm not."

"When will you ever speak the truth?"

"I am."

"Dante!" 

I am so, so frustrated at this point I don't care about the headache. Right when I'm about to insult the son of a bitch, the director calls for him and it's my time to shut up.

"Later, Alicia. Get better soon!"

The fucker even has the nerve to skip away, leaving me alone looking like a total bitch with my eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. This is not according to plan. Pretending to be drunk enough to probably confess is the plan. Instead, I actually got terribly drunk and the aftermath is a total pain to go through.

I hate you, Dante Ashford, and I will make you pay no matter how much I love you.  "Please, please just tell me what happened," I shake his arm when we walk out from the dining room. Dinner was a loud mess (for me, anyway) and it was torture waiting for it to end just to talk to him. 

"That's what happened. I gave you a water bottle, if that's what you want. Left a couple Advils on the nightstand, too."

"By the way you're acting, I can tell something else other than that happened."  "You know? There might be."

My breath hitches. Dante's a gentleman, but there's always that one fear that could possibly happen whenever someone's intoxicated. "And that is?" He stays silent, looking at the scenery around him. I realize that we're near the pool, in an area a little bit secluded.

But the view, at this point, is beautiful. 

The skyline is breathtaking. City lights illuminate the night, and I'm left speechless at the sight. 

"Alicia?"

I tear my gaze away and look at him. We're close, closer than usual and soon it's just me, him and the pounding of my heart. 

He plays with my braid, which has been tied ever since this morning. I frown slightly at him when he pulls the ponytail, letting my hair flow free in the wind. "Dante? Why did you--"

"Alicia, I like you."

My heart explodes. "Huh?"

"I felt a connection ever since we first met at university. I like you, Alicia. A lot. And I know you probably like someone else, but I just had to let you know." I. Can't. Breathe. And I can't believe it either. Somehow, Drunk Me didn't tell him I like him.

"What do you mean?”

"I touched your shoulder when I was telling you to fall asleep. You shoved it away and told me your heart belonged to someone else. Someone...hotter than me. You were going to say his name, but you passed out."

I bite my lip and exhale. I want to jump all over the place. The guy I love loves me back. 

Poor Dante, though...the suspense must've killed him.

His eyes are hopeful as he takes my hands in his. "Please, say something."

I smile. Liberation is one of the best feelings in the world.

"I don't know who drunk me was thinking, but it's you that I like."

His grin makes everything I've been through worth it.

[violentdevotion]

Since @queendido asked, my shitty CIA movie idea.

Warning: It’s literally the cheesiest, shittiest, most gross rom-com imaginable. There’s also going to be a lot of grammar mistakes because it was all messaged to a friend. Okay enjoy! (you most likely won’t)

So it begins and we see this girl, let's call her Taylor, and her boyfriend just broke up with her so she's upset, she walks home alone in the rain (with sad music playing on the background) and she gets home to call her friend and cry. Then the camera zooms away from into her phone and on the other side is a CSI agent ( probably played by a white actor called Chris) listening and unlike the agents surrounding him who are clearly bored by what they're listening to, he's engrossed in the conversation. The friend (who has a different hair colour from Taylor) suggests to Taylor that to completely forget about The Guy™ she must make bad decisions and throw herself out there, ya know, no sad songs, instead she has to go out and snog a stranger or take up painting, or go skydiving and stuff like that. All through this the CSI agent (who I'll call Chris for convenience) rolls his eyes until he hears Taylors excitement at the suggestion. Then he sinks into his seat and mumbles "here it goes" So Taylor does just that she goes extreme! She bungee jumps, goes skydiving gets drunk, everything! In front of her friend, at home at night she's a sobbing insecure mess who watches sad movie over and over again on Netflix, and Chris has to witness all of this through the Webcam on her camera. At one point she's talking aloud and considering taking back The Guy™ and Chris shouts "no no no no don't do it", gaining glares from his computer workers. She doesn't but she still breaks down and cries herself to sleep that night. Chris sighs in relief and slumps back in his seat and rubs his for head in a stressed way. Now since Chris has access to all her social media's he goes through this blocking spree on her account of The Guy™ and he suggest ads to her for stuff like ice cream and subtlety post things such as "to clean up your life you've got to get rid of trash" and stuff like that. (this is all done in a montage with a pop love song playing in the background,) in the montage it keeps cutting of a clip of him blocking him, to a clip of her looking for his account and not finding it and stuff like that, until the final clip is her watching a happy movie on Netflix and laughing and him smiling to himself. Now even though Taylor is happy Chris isn't, and he doesn't know why until he realises... He got a crush on her. 

 Now this goes as bad as you'd expect from a situation where your spy has a crush on you. Chris is being adorable so the audience likes him, probably balancing a pencil on his nose until Taylor is on the phone to the friend from the beginning ( the pencil falls off his nose to the floor and he sits up straight and fixes his tie) and she's staying stuff like " ya know what I'm over The Guy™ I mean he wasn't even cute anyway, I think I've got a guardian angel looking out for me-" cuts to Chris grinning to himself adorably- "plus... There's a guy... And like he's so sweet and amazing. And kind and funny-" Chris slams his hands on the table and shouts "what?!" he hurries to all of her social media looking for any new followers so he could see the guy, in the background we hear the friend ask for the guys social media too and Taylor says "OH he doesn't have any, doesn't believe it or something, but I think he's gonna ask me out tomorrow, we've been giving each other the eye for a while now (laugh) I can send a picture I took with him the other day of you want" so she sends it and Chris looks at this picture and glares at the guy, he says every flaw he can with this guy aloud "ugh, I bet those are contacts. He looks like he spends more time on his hair than he does showering." he also rolls his eyes and pulls a face anytime Taylor says anything nice about him. So at this moment Chris decides that if he want to be apart of Taylor life, he has to be in her life. So he spends the rest of the work day making and updating his social media accounts as well as researching the new guy (who I'll call Richard) to see if there's any dirt on him. and he messages Taylor a simple "hey." on Facebook or Instagram or tinder or something as he types it out and sends it, it appears on Taylor phone and she replies hey. So Chris uses his knowledge of everything about Taylor to his advantage and soon she's interested and continues talking to him, but in the real world as we see her texting him it fades to her on a date with Richard and stuff like that. Chris also gets his best CSI friend (everone I have cast in my head is in Marvel so I'm gonna say Rob) to look for dirt on Richard too and look out for Taylor while he flirts and... Travels to Taylors home town. As the plane lands we hear Robs voice over the phone saying "I've got it"So Chris knows from Rob that Taylor is going our for drinks with Richard so he goes to the same pub she's going to and because he's a spy he knows how to act in a bar, so no one thinks he looks creepy or suspicious and quickly integrates himself in a group of people by buying them free drinks and in a few minutes they all look like best friends , in walks Taylor and Rob. Chris sees her walk in with the corner of his eye and (in case anyone was watching) he looks up and stares for a second like he sees someone he recognises and walks over to Taylor. He taps her shoulder (like a gentleman) and says "Taylor" she says "ye-" while turning around until she sees Chris and her face lights up a little. "Chris? Is that you? Really?" and hugs him, when she let's go they're still really close he laughs and says yeah while scratching the back of his neck, then says a quick lie about how he was here for work and met up with some friends came out for drinks, he points to the group of people who he was just with and they all wave at him. She smiles at him and they both look at each other and then someone clears their throat behind her, she kind of jumps back and smiles politely to Richard who's glaring slightly at Chris. "this is Richard my-" she says friend as he says boyfriend. Chris looks at them confused as Richard looks at her slightly annoyed. She clarifies friend and invites him to sit with them (much to Richards annoyance) despite sitting next to Richard she clearly enjoys Chris' company more. She excuses herself to the bathroom and leave Richard and Chris alone. Chris pretends to be civil with Richard while Richard let's out his frustrations and quietly shouts at Chris ( ya know how your mum does in public) Chris laughs and subtly drops something like "this anger is what got you in trouble for abusing your girlfriend. Good thing she didn't press charges eh." and he takes a sip of his drink. "where did you hear about that?" Richard asks. "perks of the job. No you wanna go before Taylor finds out too?" Richard glares at him and storms outTaylor returns and sees Chris alone at the table. When she asks where Richard went and he says that he walked off in a hurry, said it was something important. Taylor looks takes put her phone almost considering calling him until she puts it back in her pocket and sits back across from Chris. He grins at her and they talk and joke, it fades away to outside Taylor house she thanks him for walking it's obvious from the way their walking and talking that she's significantly more drunk than Chris, she stares at his lips, leaning in slightly. And Chris stares at her too until he holds her back from her forearms. "you're drunk, get some water and put yourself in bed alright?" her kisses her on the cheek and walks away, she stares at him waking away, he stops and turn around to wave at her and she waves back, opens her door and walks in. This kicks starts something and we see messages going back and forth from both of them on different dates and times with them flirting and setting up dates and also clips of them having really formal looking dates (at a restaurant and cinema and stuff) then cuts to them in casual clothes at a fair kinda late, like it's dark but not really late at night. He hands her cotton candy and smiles at her she takes a bite and smiles back. We see her in his perspective with a blurred background and twinkling lights behind her from one of the rides. As she frowns slightly at his confusing behaviour he kisses her (at this moment I assume someone would shout finally)He calls Rob (in what must be presumably a time jump because he seems to be lounging in Taylors room in nice clothes while we presume she's getting ready in the bathroom) about how happy he is with her and also tells Rob that he'll come back for work in a few weeks and he's grateful that Robs covering for him. Rob replies "Anytime but talking about work. You've got to tell her-" Chris opens his mouth to argue "listen I know it's an awkward conversation but you and I both know somethings gonna a slip eventually. And even if it doesn't you're gonna live a lie if you stay with her. So tell her now and save the both of you further pain and regret okay?" Rob hangs up and Chris looks down conflicted, we see Taylor walk in the room in with her makeup done nice and a fancy dress. He looks up at her and is in awe of her, when he thinks back to what Rob said, he stands up slowly and puts his hands on her arms, directing her to the bed and sitting her down at the edge. "you looks beautiful and I want you to know that but I also need to tell you something, so this might be crazy but hear me out first okay ?" when she nods he tells her he was a part of the CSI. She looks confused at him and starts to laugh. He stands up and starts to explain what he means. She clearly doesn't believe him so he rambles about all the stuff he did after her break up and how he knew the perfect lines to say to her online and even how he knew where she was going to be. As realisation settles on her face she calmly tells him to get out. He stops and tries to talk to her calmly but she begins to say it louder until she's shouting at him (at this point her makeup ruined) he quietly says her name, his voice cracking as he says it, almost pleading her to let him stay with his face and she let's rip about how betrayed she feels and how disgusting it is what he did and how his actions are comparable to a teenager using invisibility to perve on girls on a changing room. She successfully gets him out the house and he grabs a pebble and throws it full force in a random direction and walks home while Taylor curls on her bed and plays a playlist titled "sad songs"He tries to message her but she blocks him, so he gets Rob to unblock him so she just ignores him. They both go further into sadness and look like shells of themselves. We see Chris throw himself at work and listen absent mindedly to a couple pulling the whole "you hang up first" stuff. We also see Taylor ignoring her friend as she tries to get her out the house. "bungee jumping doesn't fix everything Hannah" Rob calls Chris (who we see nursing an empty bottle while another couple drones on in the background ) and tries to get him to cheer up or talk to her "listen, at least try and go to her and work this out, if not that at least it'll be some closure for the both of you." he pats Chris on the back and asked the bottle away with him. Taylor is in her living room curled up on the sofa with headphones in and her eyes open but unfocused. In a break of two songs we hear erratic knocking on a door and see Taylor sluggishly get up and open the door "Listen Hannah I'm ok-" there stands Chris in probably flannel and jeans, with a five o'clock shadow. He pulls a speach that probably goes like. "I'm sorry okay, what I did was disgusting but was for my job and technically I'm not allowed to tell anyone about it but I needed to tell you Taylor, if I wanted to spend more time with you, which I do. The most disgusting thing I did though was using the knowledge I gained to pursue you and if you hate me and never want to see me again I'll totally understand and would leave right now. The only reason I didn't yet was because I love you okay, I saw you drag yourself up from your lowest moment and be such an amazing person. I saw you fake a smile every goddam day just do your friend wouldn't worry about you. I saw you Taylor, a stunning woman go through life, sure not gracefully or effortlessly but astoundingly. And I want to carry on driven you do that, so yes while our first hello wasn't the best but the rest of them came to could be, if you just take me back. Please. " She has her arms crossed through the entire thing and glares at him slightly despite tears being him in her eyes " did you see me naked through my Web cam? " " I looked away everytime you got undressed, scouts honour" "she glares a few seconds more before raising grabbing him by the face and kissing him.

[torontotravelblog]

8 Things That Prove Toronto Is the Coolest City

"When did Toronto get so great?" That's the question BBC Travel presented lately, questioning when this Canadian city became the cultural center it suddenly seems to be. The fact is, Toronto has been cool for a long time. It's simply that Toronto never speaks about exactly how great Toronto is. Yet with its indie coffee shops and also artistic bars, with every street edge birthing some yummy morsel or micro-roasted coffee, and also with independent style labels, roof restaurants, and also a bar that serves brunch with a side of fatality steel, the truth is that Toronto has a little bit of every little thing.

Wish to prepare a see to this un-self-consciously amazing city? Below are 8 picks to obtain you began.

Kensington Market

Modern and also lively: These are the best words to define Kensington Market, a must-experience neighborhood in the heart of midtown. Formally a National Historic Website of Canada and also a safeguarded area, Kensington was as soon as an immigrant territory in the bustling city. Currently it's a center for the still-thriving counterculture of Toronto (think Haight-Ashbury, however much cooler than San Francisco). In the cramped but neat roads, you'll discover vintage shops, document stores, independent coffee shops, ethnic grocers, and head stores. Pedestrians mill on the sidewalks as well as in the streets throughout festivals, consisting of a vivid Kensington Karnival to supplant the winter solstice.

Some of my picks in this amazing neighborhood are Guts My Love (high-grade vintage clothing for all sexes), Moonbean Coffee Business (a mini roastery and hangout), Graffiti's (a small rock bar with a black-metal brunch), and Sanagan's Meat Storage locker (hipster butcher extraordinaire).

Canadian Cuisine

Toronto is indisputably diverse, and also its cooking scene reflects the impact of hundreds of immigrant teams who brought inexpensive, passionate, as well as tasty fare to the cool continent. Yet, like many various other places I've traveled to recently, Toronto seems to be in the midst of uncovering its domestic active ingredients and culinary roots-- past maple syrup and poutine, obviously. The city's cooks have actually required to local produce, fish, as well as game, checking out ancient methods like fermenting and also smoking while updating Canada's distinct heritage recipes.

The fine-dining scene is dominated by restaurants like Canoe, with sampling menus that concentrate on one particular regional food and attribute parts like Lake Manitoba trout, Saskatoon winter berries, and also Northern Woods mushrooms. Likewise, contemporary Marben, with its bespoke alcoholic drinks and also local components in a diverse around-the-world menu, is right on pattern. Both deserve a go to.

And if you wish to go means down-market, the Slide carousel Bakery at St. Lawrence Market is the only area to experience a real Toronto original: a peameal bacon sandwich. Get in line early, choose a mustard, and delight in.

Toronto Islands

In spite of the cold weather condition, Torontonians are an outdoorsy number, and they take to the Toronto Islands, a tiny chain just offshore, to experience a few of the most effective metropolitan eco-friendly spaces in North America. These public islands have amazing views of the shining city sky line on one side as well as the similarly glittery Lake Ontario on the various other. Centre Island, the largest, is just an affordable ferry ride away from downtown. From the dock, visitors can rent out bicycles to discover the island's several routes; in summer, canoes and also kayaks are available to lease for paddling the surrounding lake. On the island, you'll discover a small theme park, coastlines, picnic locations with fire pits, as well as cafes. (Note that Hanlan's Factor Coastline is clothing-optional!) If you're not feeling the outdoors, a little musicians' area at Gibraltar Point houses workshops for painters, carvers, and also other imaginative kinds; it creates an enjoyable social side trip.

Distillery District

This neighborhood of Victorian commercial stockrooms as well as charming street indicators looks flat-out Dickensian-- yet completely updated. Given that being called a National Historic Website in 1988, the Distillery District has actually ended up being a shopping-and-nightlife hub for hip locals. It's now home to Toronto's relaxing Xmas Market, at which customers can drink mulled white wine, surf artisans' stands, as well as gather around for carols. Year-round, a collection of stores and restaurants brings site visitors day and night (I suggest Block Street Bakeshop's sweet and also savory bread or Mill Street Mixture Pub's prize-winning beers and patio area). Gallery area and also performance movie theaters contribute to the artsy however un-self-conscious vibe. Bring your best skinny denims.

Chinatown( s).

Several cities assert a Chinatown, yet the higher Toronto location has seven. The district on Spadina Avenue around Dundas Road West, frequently referred to as Old Chinatown, is among the best locations worldwide to experience Thai, Vietnamese, and also plenty of Chinese regional foods all at once.

Insiders say the very best times to try out Chinatown are late at night, after the bars close as well as when your tummy is craving affordable as well as delicious eats, and also early weekend breaks for first-rate dark sum. Any time, Toronto's dumplings and soup buns (xiao lengthy bao, or XLBs) are legendary, with areas like Mom's Dumplings, Rol San, and Asian Legend serving up exemplary resilient buns full of hot brew. (Pro idea: Poke the leading with a chopstick to slurp out the soup.) Family member newbie Rosewood Chinese Food gets my pick for the adhering to magical words: all-day dim sum. Each dish sets you back just $2.20 CAD on weekdays, making this set of the best dining sell an expensive community.

Bloor-Yorkville.

This glam Toronto community continually ranks among the globe's best for shopping, so if you're seeking to blow your spending plan (or if you do not have one), Bloor-Yorkville is the place to go. Right here you'll discover premium resorts like the 4 Seasons, the city's best medical spas and hair salons, as well as stores from Chanel, Michael Kors, and also Louis Vuitton. You can go shopping Canadian tags like Holt Renfrew and Harry Rosen, take a look at neighborhood and also international art at snazzy galleries, or sip alcoholic drinks at a roof bar. I assume the most effective method to experience this swank area is complimentary: Just park it on a bench and also people-and-Maserati-watch at your leisure.

Queen West.

Both Style as well as Lonely Planet called Queen West Toronto's coolest community in 2014, and it's hard to argue that this one-mile stretch could be anything however. Neat rows of art galleries, studios, style houses, stores, dining establishments, and bakeshops line Queen West, a former industrial neighborhood that's taken well to its newly found fame. Street-art addicts will certainly love Graffiti Street, where spray-painted murals are totally lawful. The fashionable collection will enjoy the material shops, bead as well as button shops, and also indie-label stores. As well as everyone can appreciate the artistic resort The Drake, where a rooftop bar supplies some of the city's finest sights and also night life-- as well as where you may spot a star or 2.

Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO).

The engineer Frank Gehry is a Toronto native, so it only makes sense that when this city organization needed a refresh, Gehry pertained to the rescue. A $276 million remodelling later on, as well as AGO is now renowned not just for the art it has however, for its very own modern, airy design. Numerous professionals compete that its wide-open areas are among the globe's finest for watching imaginative work of arts, with a billowing glass outside as well as a sculptural wood staircase that Gehry really hoped would certainly inspire visitors to fall in love. The museum's collection absolutely motivates interest, from its irreversible Canadian jobs by the Team of 7 to turning exhibitions by Basquiat, Michelangelo, and so forth. If you visit, prepare a complete day and also build in a coffee break at the fifth-level Emporium Italia coffee bar (the sights of the city from the undulating wood-framed windows are magnificent).

The post “ 8 Things That Prove Toronto Is the Coolest City “ was originally seen on Smarter Travel by Dara Continenza

Looking for IV therapy services in Toronto? Contact The IV Lounge.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Under the Apple Tree--Chapter 8

Ship:  Outlaw Queen

Rating: T

Synopsis: After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin was transported to Seattle, unable to return to Storybrooke or any magical. When it was clear he had no way to return to his family, Robin finally decided to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.  Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again, making him realize that hope never truly dies.

Previous: Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6

Chapter 7

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Robin held his breath as he waited for Regina’s reply (he simply couldn’t bring himself to call her by her cursed name, not in his own mind, at least), but for a moment that felt like an hour, there was silence on the other end of the telephone receiver.

And then she laughed.

Robin frowned, wondering how the blazes he was to interpret that reaction to his invitation to dinner.  Did she find the prospect so ridiculous she could do nothing but laugh?

“Might I inquire just what is funny?” he asked, somewhat formally

Her laughter stopped gradually.  “I’m sorry, Robin,” she said, humor still lacing her voice, “I didn’t mean anything by it.  It’s just ironic, you asking me out.”

“Yes?  And why is that.”

“Because,” she said, “I was just working up the courage to call you and invite you to dinner.”

Robin let out a long breath, a relieved smile draping his face.  “We think alike; must be soulmates.”

He’d made the statement flippantly, trying to keep the mood lighthearted, but she suddenly got very, very quiet and Robin feared he’d pressed her too hard.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine,” Regina hastened to assure.  “It’s just weird you used that phrase…”

Robin was silent, waiting for her to continue.

“The thing is,” Regina said, “I had a really restless night.  Lots to think about.  Sometimes it feels like my life, this life now isn’t real, if that makes any sense, and, well, the only thing that feels real, that feels right right now is you.  Oh goodness, that makes me sound like a crazy person.  Things not to do when discussing plans for a first date with someone…”

“No, it’s fine,” Robin said quickly.  “I understand precisely what you mean, and believe it or not, it doesn’t sound crazy at all.  Rayna I feel a definite connection to you, and I doubt there’s anything you could say to me that would scare me off.  Now I sound like the one with the obsession.”

Regina laughed and Robin felt his heart turn over at the sound.  It had been so long, so very, very long since he’d heard that sweet sound. All of a sudden an intense longing for her came over him.  He needed to go slow and steady with her.  He couldn’t afford to scare her off, but he wanted her, needed her so very much and being with her but not really being with her was sweet torture.

“I know you asked me to go out to dinner with you, but would you be terribly disappointed if we stayed in instead?” Regina asked.  “I make a mean lasagna.  Key is red pepper flakes; gives it a kick.  It’s just, I was hoping we could talk.  Really talk, and restaurants aren’t always the most conducive to conversation.”

“Lasagna sounds lovely,” Robin assured.  He knew just how magical that dish could be prepared by his true love’s hands.  He remembered evenings working together with her, getting dinner together, sometimes working brilliantly together, sometimes burning their dinner as flirtatious food preparation turned to long, heated kisses. “But you must allow me to bring the wine.”

“Now that I will not turn down,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.  “How about you come over around 6?”

“As my lady wishes,” Robin said, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

At 6:00 on the dot, Robin stepped out of his car, tugged on his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair.  He took a deep breath trying to settle the nerves, grabbed his bottle of merlot, and walked to Regina’s front door.

That morning, Robin had no sooner finished his call with Regina than he went to Henry’s.

“So?” Henry asked as he opened the door and issued Robin into the living room where Lucy waited, “how did it go.”

“Your mother and I have a date for this evening,” Robin said with a grin.  “She plans to prepare lasagna and we’ll have a quiet evening in.”

“Lasagna!” Henry said with a smile.  “Mom only makes her famous lasagna when she’s really trying to make an impression. Sounds like Operation Cupid is right on track!”

“Yeah!” Lucy agreed, trotting up to give Robin an exuberant hug.  “She’s already falling in love with you!  You’ll have your True Love’s Kiss and break the curse in no time!”

“Slow down, young miss,” Robin said with a laugh.  “It’s just a first date.  I must play my cards carefully and not push your grandmother farther than she’s ready.”

“But she will be ready soon,” Lucy insisted.  “I know it!”

“I sincerely hope so.”

Henry went to the kitchen where he was preparing what looked like a veritable breakfast feast—eggs, pancakes, sausage, hot cocoa, fruit.  “Perhaps I best go.  I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast.”

“Don’t be silly, Robin,” Henry said, turning off the last burner and setting the platters of food on the kitchen table.  “Lucy and I cooked enough for an army.  Stay and have breakfast with us.  We can start planning your next move.”

And so over a delicious breakfast any restaurant would have been proud of, the three of them held a strategy meeting.  In the end, it was decided that Robin would spend the evening subtly trying to jog Regina’s memory…but most importantly, focusing on developing their relationship. In the meantime Henry and Lucy would go down to Killian’s pub (as it was also an eating establishment, Lucy would be permitted in) and see if they could make any headway in bringing back his memories.

Plan for the day in place, Robin had gone in to work and done his level best to focus on the tasks at hand, rather than on the raven-haired beauty who was to be his date for the night. Promptly at 5:00 he’d headed home, showered and carefully dressed for the most important date of his life.

After a few moments, Regina opened the door, and Robin’s jaw dropped.  She was gorgeous.  She always was, of course, but Regina taking pains with her appearance could nearly stop a man’s heart.  She wore a sleeveless red dress that reached her knees, and floated about in a delightfully feminine way.  Her hair was curled gently from her face, and her makeup was perfectly applied so as to accentuate her already lovely features.

“Hi,” she said, almost shyly.

“Hello yourself,” he said leaning in to kiss her gently on the cheek.  “You look stunning Reg…Rayna.”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping back and inviting him in.  “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

For a moment they merely stood in her foyer simply looking at each other, grinning like idiots, but then Regina seemed to snap herself out of it.

“Thanks for the wine,” she said, turning back toward the kitchen.  “The lasagna’s just about done, I’m just throwing together a salad.  How about you pour us some wine.  Glasses are in that cabinet on the left.”

Robin obediently retrieved the wine glasses and poured the rich, dark red liquid for both of them.  “To our first date,” he said raising his glass to her.

“Hopefully the first of many,” she replied, gently clinking her glass with his before taking a dainty sip.

Their eyes met, and Robin could see the attraction in her eyes.  He’d vowed to himself he’d take things slowly, careful not to scare her by coming on too strong, but gods help him, when she looked at him like that he couldn’t help himself.  He deliberately set his glass on her counter and then slowly leaned toward her, giving her every opportunity to turn her head, reject his kiss.

But the last thing she seemed to want to do was stop the natural progression of things.  Setting her own glass down, she rested her arms on his shoulders and raised to her tiptoes.  He leaned further down, intoxicated with the sweet scent of her perfume…

And then the oven buzzer went off.  Regina stepped back with a groan.  “Sorry. Lasagna’s done.”

Robin took a deep breath and let it out on a chuckle, determined to return to light banter.  “No need to be sorry for that.  I happen to be positively famished.  Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After flipping the switch to turn on her very realistic looking electric fireplace, Rayna settled on the couch beside Robin, automatically scooting into him when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  Laying her head on his shoulder, Rayna smiled gently to herself. This felt so good, so right.  She felt safe, protected, cherished, loved in Robin’s arms, and it felt like they’d been doing this—spending evenings together—forever.

“Dinner was an absolute delight,” Robin said, tracing soft patterns on her bare arm with one finger. “I’m quite sure there’s not a restaurant in town that could have matched your lasagna for sheer deliciousness.”

“Thanks,” she said, softly, shifting to kiss his cheek gently.

Dinner had indeed been everything Rayna had hoped it would be and more.  She’d set the table carefully, lighting two taper candles to provide perfect mood lighting, and the two of them had talked and laughed through the entire meal.  Rayna couldn’t deny it.  She felt a stirring of something inside when she was with Robin.  If it wasn’t totally ridiculous—this was, after all, only their first date—she’d say that something she felt was love.

Robin seemed perfect for her with his rugged good looks, his kindness, his very evident sense of honor and chivalry, his ability to look into her eyes and seem to see to her very soul…and then smile, as though he liked what he saw.

It was more than she’d gotten from any relationship before.

Was this what they called love at first sight?

“On the phone this morning, Rayna,” Robin said, pulling Rayna from her reverie, “you said you wanted to talk to me.  Please, feel free to tell me anything.  Anything at all.  You won’t shock me or scare me off.”

Rayna felt her heart race. She believed him, believed he was convinced of what he said, but still.  How does one go about saying “I read a little girl’s fairytale book and it feels real.”?  Rayna got to her feet and grabbed the book from her table.

“The little girl you brought over the other day,” Rayna began softly, sitting back beside him., “Lucy, wasn’t it?  She left her book here after you left.”

“Yes,” Robin said with a small nod.  “She told me. Did…did you have a chance to glance over it.”

Rayna flipped open the cover and smoothed her hand over the picture of the family dinner.  “More than that,” Rayna said.  “I read it.  All of it. Cover to cover.”

“And,” Robin said in a strangely intense voice, “what did you think?”

Rayna sighed, flipping a few pages.  “It was the strangest thing.  I know these are fairy tales.  They talk about the Enchanted Forest and magic and things like ogres, but…”

“But?”

“But I got the strangest feeling of déjà vu from it,” Rayna said quickly.  “It didn’t feel like just stories; it felt real.  And what’s even weirder, some of these pictures…I seem to be in them even though I’ve never been to a town called Storybrooke.”

There was silence for a moment, and Rayna felt her cheeks flush.  “You must think I’m crazy.”

He turned her toward him and shook his head.  “Not at all,” he assured.  “There is, I’m sure, a perfectly good explanation for your connection to this book.”

“Yeah? Rayna asked, feeling her frustration mount.  “And just what is that explanation?  Tell me the truth, Robin.  What is it about that book…about the man you brought and his daughter…about you that feels so very, very familiar?”

Robin looked at her intently his hand quickly flexing and then relaxing on her shoulder.  Finally, he nodded slightly, evidently coming to a decision.  “Yes, I think it’s time you hear the full truth.  Rayna…this will no doubt sound utterly mad to you, but the reason you feel such a connection to this book is that it’s not merely a book of fairy stories. It’s a book of history.  Your history.  All of the people in this book are quite real.  These ‘fairy tale’ characters, as you call them, are all real, living, breathing people.  And the reason that some of those illustrations look so very much like you is…because they are.  That woman named Regina Mills?  That’s you.”

Rayna startled, her heart racing.  “Robin…what you’re saying is impossible!  Are you trying to ask me to believe that I am,” she consulted the book once more, “the Evil Queen?”

He shook his head vehemently.  “No, not anymore.  You were once a villain, consumed by vengeance after a broken heart, but you’ve chosen love, you’ve chosen family, you’ve chosen hope, and it has made you as much of a hero as any of them.”

Rayna stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to burst into laughter and tell her he was simply joking with her.  But Robin would not pull such a cruel joke.  

“But that’s…that’s crazy!” she said, getting to her feet and beginning to pace.  “How could I be a totally different person?  I can’t believe I’m even asking something so ridiculous, but if this is true how is it possible I don’t remember any of it?  How is it that I live here, on the opposite side of the country?”

“There was a curse,” Robin said.  “It ripped you to the Land Without Magic and wiped your memories.”

Rayna paced for another moment, feeling the panic begin to bubble up.  “A curse?  Land Without Magic?  Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?”

Robin sighed deeply, and looked down.  “Yes, of course I do, but Regina, I assure you that every word of it is true…as is the love we share between us.  You may not remember, but we were soulmates.  I’m the man with the lion tattoo; the one who was prophesied to be your great love.  We were separated for such a very long time, and I feared I would never see you again, but here you are, and Regina, my darling, I need you to trust me.  I need you to believe.”

The panic grew, now feeling like a living thing crawling within her.  It was too much, all way, way too much.  She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle the feelings, the confusing “memories” the total insanity of it all.  She had to get away.  Now!

“Robin,” she said in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.  “I’m sorry, this is just…I think it’s time for you to go.  I can’t…this can’t be…please!  Just go!”

Robin got quickly to his feet and came to her, putting his hands on her arms.  “Regina, please…”

“It’s Rayna!” she said.  “My name is Rayna Miller!”

He took a step back, instantly letting her go.  “I’m sorry. Rayna…”

“Please Robin,” she pleaded. “It’s too much.  Thank you for a wonderful evening, but it’s time for you to go.”

Robin peered at her for another long moment, but finally sighed in defeat.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for ruining what was one of the best nights I’ve had in ages.  I know it’s a lot to take in.  Just…just call me, anytime of the day or night if you want to talk.”

And with that Robin walked out that door.  Rayna’s heart dropped as she heard the soft click of the shutting door.  Why did she suddenly feel like she’d lost one of the most important parts of herself?

 Notes:

--Sorry about that rather angsty ending, there, but things were going altogether way too well.  You had to know it wouldn’t be that easy for Regina to start believing didn’t you?  Think of this as this story’s version of the canon scene in Zelena’s farmhouse where Regina saw Robin’s lion tattoo and ran away.

--We’re rapidly reaching the end now!  Only one more full chapter left, and then I’ll probably add a CS themed epilogue to deal with the sleeping curse currently keeping all of Storybrooke in eternal slumber.  I had thought to try to continue this story and follow the heroes as they battle the darkness and attempt to save Scheherazade, but I don’t think that will happen for 2 reasons.  1. I have NO idea where that story is going…and now that we’re starting to get spoilers for canon season 7, and it doesn’t seem to be anything like what I’m setting out in this story, the inspiration just isn’t there. 2. This is an OQ focused story, but after next week’s chapter, OQ’s story will effectively be told.  They will, of course, be an important part in the overall “defeat the bad guy” effort, but they won’t be the focus anymore. It just seems like it would be more appropriate, should the inspiration ever strike, to turn that story into a Henry/Scheherazade themed sequel.

--Anyway…Up next:  Robin feels utterly defeated, and Regina feels utterly miserable.  Can she move past her fear and the seeming impossibility of it all and take a leap of faith?  (I certainly hope so!)

[thesem]

Tagged by @trilobiter and I like to answer things and I don’t tag people sorry orz I don’t like being a bother

1. What time do you most like getting up in the morning?

Ideally? Like 8-9 or something. But lately I’ve been going to bed around 4 AM so... noon is good haha

2. If you could have a framed newspaper display from any date in your life thus far, what would it be?

I suppose 1 November 2016 which is when I got married? Otherwise fuck if I know haha.

3. What is an art form you feel is woefully underappreciated?

I like textile arts a lot, I feel those often get labeled as craft and not art and I’ll admit I don’t know enough to argue the difference (craft has purpose maybe?). So quilts and plushes and cross-stitch and stuff.

4. What is the most exciting scientific possibility that you know of in the near future?

...is the apocalypse a scientific possibility? Haha sorry I’m a bit dark right now. Otherwise... I dunno. 3D printing with organic things? That seems like it could be very interesting...

5. What is one act, presently regarded as a crime, that you believe should be legal? Challenge mode excludes drug consumption or possession.

Oh hmmmmmm if no drug stuff then like... I dunno if it’s a crime per se but all that BS blocking like Planned Parenthood and other things from being open (bullshit regulations having to do with like widths of hallways and stuff), I would just wipe that clear. The fact that like access to women’s healthcare sparks such a fucking debate in just... shameful. Fucking shameful.

6. If representatives from Earth should ever enter formal diplomatic relations with another world, what language should those relations be conducted in?

I suppose it would depend on which language was easier to learn and speak for which species... I would like to think that we could just have translators for this sort of thing. And I suppose if we went to them their language but if they came to us? One of our languages. First contact language?

7. Do you have anything you’ve been unable to find a use for, but you keep it around anyway for whatever reason?

Yeah I collect knick-knacks in general, so lots of things haha. Just how I am.

8. What is genius, if it is not a high IQ?

Well I think it’s how people think more than what they know. Can they approach problems from a different and new angle that brings about positive change for like humanity or their society or whatever? That’s probably what I would consider genius.

9. What hobby do you wish you had more time for?

Sewing or maybe fencing. I dunno I’m... not really good at doing anything right now.

10. Is there a type of food you’re longing to try, but haven’t had the opportunity?

I went to like an Australian pub or chain restaurant pub in the UK or whatever and they had kangaroo steak on the menu but they were apparently out of it that night. So probably just like... non-standard meats. Buffalo too, I’ve always wanted to try buffalo...

11. If you could give any one a prize for anything, what would the prize be and who would receive it?

Lottery and to my wife haha. If that’s not a prize then IDK Best Wife Mug to my wife.

[j-ungkooky]

Read (Jimin)

Angst/Fluff Badboy AU 6919 Words

Bad Boy Series: Namjoon/Seokjin/Yoongi/Hoseok/Taehyung/Jungkook

Summary: Jimin promised that he'd take a bullet protecting her after asking her to be with him. When she gets a series of threatening anonymous text messages, the reality of him taking that bullet becomes a scary possibility. 

She was too preoccupied with her menu to notice Jimin’s soft gaze on her. He had his chin rested against his hand accompanied by a wide smile plastered on his face. 

He lowered her menu in attempt to get her attention, “You look really good today.” Jimin complimented, his eyes turning into little crescent moons. 

She tried her best to seem unfazed by his words but her flushed cheeks let Jimin know she felt otherwise. 

“You’ve said that like 35 times now Jimin.” She mumbled and he shrugged before leaning back on his chair.

“That numbers only going to grow by the way.” 

Rolling her eyes, she playfully stuck out her tongue before going back to her menu.

Sometimes Jimin felt nothing but absolute guilt when he looked at her but those feelings would soon disappear whenever she shot him a reassuring smile or wrapped her arms around his torso. The world Jimin lived in had no place for her yet she still found a way to saunter in and build a safe haven inside of his heart. He tried his very best to keep her out of his business as much as possible but, sometimes he’d slip and she’d catch him walking home with a freshly fired gun in his hand; or counting a large sum of stolen money in the wee hours of the morning; or engaging in a phone conversation that would make any other civilian call the police right away. Jimin prayed to whatever God was left out there who would still be willing to lend him an ear, that they never take her away from him.

“Do you think I ordered too many nigiri’s?” she asked while counting out loud with her fingers. 

Jimin chuckled and reached his hand across the table to hold hers, “It’s okay.” 

She shook her head with the realization that she had ordered too much. 

“Jimin the prices in this restaurant cost more than my tuition.” She exasperated and Jimin gave her hand a squeeze before leaning towards her. 

“Don’t you even worry about the bill babygirl.” And once again her cheeks flushed because Jimin knew what to say all the time.

She’d always been the type to overthink and stress herself out but, ever since Jimin came into her life, her mind became a more peaceful place. He was that solid foundation she needed when things were rough and he made sure she felt loved everyday. “Don’t you worry about a thing, I got you babygirl.” Was what he’d always say and he always kept his word. However, she found out what Jimin did for a living after a few months into their relationship and reverted back to her paranoid self. After realizing that words were not enough to provide her with reassurance, Jimin decided to show her that he was okay by texting her every time he arrived home safely or even going an extra mile by calling her. Eventually as time went by, she had no other option but to accept that Jimin was more of an expert in handling guns than he was at making breakfast; he was better at coming up with multiple fake identities than he was at remembering their anniversary; and he was great at sneaking into people’s homes than he was at arriving on time to their dates.

In the midst of their conversation, Jimin had to excuse himself to pick up a phone call leaving her vulnerable to two pairs of devious eyes from across the restaurant.

“Had no idea that Jimin was capable of having a girlfriend.” Chanyeol commented. 

Sehun stared at her with no emotion in his eyes whatsoever as he was trying to conjure up a plan. While Chanyeol was busy devouring her physical appearance, Sehun had been paying close attention to Jimin. The way that he interacted with her and looked at her told Sehun that the relationship they shared was genuine. She wasn’t just some girl Jimin picked up and she didn’t seem like she was the type to engage in gang activity either which made the planning process so much more fun.

“What hurts more than physical pain?” Sehun asked, his eyes now skimming her features. 

Chanyeol raised a brow at Sehun before letting out a dry laugh, “I don’t know man. Have you ever been stabbed because that shit fucking hurts.” 

Sehun only rolled his eyes at Chanyeol’s witty remark. By now, Jimin had returned to his table but didn’t sit down until he gave her a quick peck on the cheek as an apology for picking up his phone in the middle of dinner. 

“You know that money we’ve been trying to get back?” Sehun asked again, eyes still on the two. 

Chanyeol nodded and stared at Sehun with curious eyes. A mischievous smile appeared on Sehun’s usual stoic face and he finally turned his gaze back to Chanyeol. 

“I’ve figured out a way to get it back while having a little fun with those pieces of shit,” Sehun spat almost gagging at the mention of Jimin and his gang, “take a few pictures of her. Make sure her face is clear in the photos and we’ll get Kyungsoo to figure it out from there.” 

Chanyeol almost shivered at how dark Sehun’s eyes became but he decided not to ask the younger one what exactly he was planning.

 ______________________________________________________________________

Jimin placed a kiss on her forehead and let his lips linger there before pulling away and cupping her face. He looked at her with the same goofy smile he had on earlier and she had to bury her face in his chest, his gaze was sometimes too much for her to handle. 

“You really can’t stay the night?” she asked, her voice muffled by his chest. 

Jimin sighed and wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer, “Yeah, I gotta leave in like 10 minutes and I probably won’t be home until 5am as well.” 

His smile only grew wider when he heard her whine in protest as he found it absolutely endearing, “I know babygirl but you have work early in the morning tomorrow. Besides, this isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other this week. Now let’s get you inside okay?” 

Once again, Jimin knew exactly what to say to get her to comply. 

“Promise to text me when you’re home safe and sound?” she asked finally pulling away and looking up at him. 

“Always.” Jimin nodded and planted a kiss that would continue to tingle on her lips hours after he left.

_____________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t hard collecting information on her. She went to a well-known university in the city, worked as a waitress in a pretty popular pub, and most importantly used the same cell phone as 99% of the population.

“I will never know how you are able to do the things that you do.” Chanyeol complimented while accessing her phone through his phone. 

Kyungsoo shrugged and closed his laptop before leaning back in his chair and stretching. He was the mastermind when it came to hacking and getting information in his gang, and he was damn good at it too.

Sehun laughed and crossed his arms, “Well, when all you do is spend time alone in your room, you end up learning some pretty neat tricks am I right Kyungsoo?” 

Kyungsoo didn’t laugh along with Sehun. Instead he chose to shoot the younger one a look of warning before turning to face Chanyeol who was still staring at his phone in bewilderment. 

“So I tapped her phone which means you can basically look through anything on her phone through your own phone. So we’re talking text messages, contact lists, etcetera etcetera,” Kyungsoo lazily explained in his usual monotone voice, “and either she is extremely smart or her bitch of a boyfriend warned her to not keep any of his other member’s information saved or to save anything important regarding him or his gang on her phone because there’s literally nothing in there to find besides disgusting ass messages between the two of them.”

Sehun snatched Chanyeol’s phone away from him and played around with it before giving Kyungsoo an ‘ok’ sign with his fingers, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that because we’ll get the information that we need from her soon.”

______________________________________________________________________ 

Unknown [Sent Thursday 2:33pm]: It’d be wise not to ignore us sweetheart.

She only sighed before deleting the message. These messages from an unknown sender had begun only a couple days ago. They were a bit chilling at first but now she was just convinced that it was either one of her classmates or friends pulling an immature prank on her. This unknown number would only send 2-3 messages a day saying things that she could not decipher. The first few messages she got read, “Thursday”, “Italian” and “8:30” which made absolutely no sense to her so she just discarded them and hoped that whoever was bothering her would get the gist that their company was not wanted or needed.

She pushed her thoughts regarding the unknown sender away before throwing her phone onto her bed and getting ready for her date with Jimin. Just thinking about his face made her feel giddy and even after a year of being together, she still got butterflies around him. Pulling out a pair of jeans and a striped t-shirt from her closet, she nodded in approval before dressing herself. The two of them were going to a small joint just a few minutes away from her place so there was no need to dress up. They served the greasiest and cheesiest pastas and she absolutely loved it. Jimin always wanted to treat her to the most exquisite restaurants in the city that required the both of them to dress a little more formally than they usually would so it felt nice to finally go somewhere casual. And if she were sneaky enough, she would finally be able to pay for their bill.

She fiddled around with the apps on her phone while waiting for Jimin to knock on her door. She knew that she probably got ready a little too early, as Jimin was always fashionably late to all their dates arriving usually 20-30 minutes later. It use to irk her at first but he says it’s because he’s always double checking the area to make sure no ones following him so she never pressed the matter any further than it needed to be.

[Sent Thursday 8:27pm:] I’m gonna say you’re going to be 15 minutes late today.

She sent him with a playful smile on her face.

15 minutes later turned to 45 minutes and 45 minutes later became an hour and a half. Usually if he was running this late, he’d have the decency to send her a message. By now she was pacing around back and forth in her living tapping her phone nervously against her thigh. Any other girlfriend would have probably assumed that her boyfriend might’ve fallen asleep or simply just forgot about their date but, Jimin was not any average boy. Her nausea worsened as the minutes ticked by and she was about ready to rip her hair out when 2 hours passed. Her body was so tense and her mind was so chaotic that she almost screamed hearing her phone beep. Assuming that it was Jimin, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Unknown [Sent Thursday 10:17 pm]: Told you it was wise not to ignore us sweetie. Better listen to us now.

Unknown [Sent Thursday 10:17pm]: Mention any of these messages and it will only get worse from here.

Pinching her brows in confusion, she slowly sat down on her couch trying to wrap her mind around these texts when she heard her door open. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Jimin stumble in. His hair was disheveled, cuts and scratches decorated his face, his left arm was dripping blood and anger was prominent in his eyes. She immediately got up on her feet ran over to him.

“Oh my god, Jimin! What the hell happened to you?” she gasped and swallowed a lump in her throat when she saw his blood drip onto her hardwood floor. 

“Some fuckers shot at me while I was driving here. I didn’t get a good look at them.” Jimin said taking off his jacket and throwing it onto her couch with such force that she would not be surprised to find a hole in it later. “My cars totally wrecked. I swear once I find whoever was behind what happened, I’m going to kill them.” 

Jimin quickly turned around when he heard her gasp even louder. He almost fell apart when he saw just how shaken up she was. However, her shock ran deeper than just seeing Jimin’s physical state because she finally put the pieces together. “Thursday”, “Italian”, and “8:30”: Her and Jimin were supposed to get dinner at that Italian joint around 8:30 on Thursday and tonight just so happened to be that day. 

“Jimin!” she exclaimed looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he replied immediately holding onto her arm with his right hand. 

He quickly racked his brain for answers behind her sudden outburst. He was ready to go after anyone who dared to lay a finger on her or said something to her that she didn’t like; she just had to say their name and they’d be gone by tomorrow. 

“What? Talk to me!” Jimin demanded getting more and more worried with her silence. 

She had gone absolutely pale and he wanted nothing more than to take away the burden that was currently sitting on her shoulders. 

“It’s just…we have to take care of your arm. You’re bleeding all over my floor.” she finally said. 

Avoiding his suspicious gaze, she led him towards the bathroom. She had absentmindedly almost revealed the text messages to Jimin forgetting their specific order to not show him anything.

 “Lift your sleeve up.” She ordered taking out the essential products to treat Jimin’s wounds. 

Jimin hopped up onto the sink before grinning, “Sure you don’t want me to just take off my shirt?” 

She was flabbergasted at how he could joke around during a situation like this. Choosing to ignore his comment, she lifted up his blood stained sleeve herself with trembling hands. Jimin kept his eyes on her face the entire time and felt the ache in his heart grow. It was one thing to see her distressed but it was a whole new feeling when he was the one behind it. He could tell that she was holding back tears by how hard she was biting on her lower lip. This was another slip up on Jimin’s part; he should’ve just gone home instead of coming to her but he had to make sure she was safe. Jimin felt angry at himself for putting her through something like this but, a twisted part of him thought it was absolutely adorable how worried she was because he had suffered injuries much more worse than this.

Jimin waited until she finished bandaging up his arm before pulling her towards him. He spread his legs so there was a gap for her to stand in and placed a light kiss on her shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He said and frowned when she was looking at her hands instead of at him. 

“Hey look at me.” He tilted her chin upwards and gave her a small smile. 

She couldn’t look at him for too long because the guilt she was feeling would only build inside of her chest. Noticing that she wasn’t reciprocating his smile, he cooed her name and placed kisses on both of her cheeks. 

“Are you worrying about me?” Jimin teased and she glared at him. 

“Of course I am Jimin! There are people out there trying to kill you and they almost got you tonight!” and that was when the tears she held in so well finally escaped. 

She didn’t even realize how hard she was crying until she tried to talk. Her sentences came out broken and her breathing was uneven. Jimin pulled her head towards him until it was rested against his chest. He held her so tight as if he was afraid she was going to break into pieces if he let go. As she cried, he stroked her hair and whispered sweet nothings into her ear until he felt her sobbing subside. 

“I told you many times that you have nothing to worry about babygirl,” Jimin whispered, “it’s going to take more than what happened tonight to get rid of me.” 

She remained silent while tracing patterns on his shirt with her fingers. Jimin always talked about protecting her and now it was her turn to return the favour.

______________________________________________________________________ 

She stared at Jimin who was fast asleep on her bed after hours of denying that he was tired. He was sleeping on his stomach with his arms tucked under her pillow, showcasing his toned back. Mimicking his action earlier, she stroked his hair and prayed that he was having sweet dreams because the boy deserved it after seeing so much evil. Taking in his features one more time, she reached for her phone and held her breath as she opened her text messages.

 Sent [Friday 2:35am]: All right you proved your point. What do you want me to do?

 ______________________________________________________________________

Jimin watched as she apologized profusely to Jin when she dropped a cup onto the floor shattering it. 

“Oh my god! Jin! I’m so, so sorry!” she got down on her knees to pick up the broken pieces. 

Jin waved her hands away saying it was dangerous to pick up glass with her bare hands. 

“Please don’t worry about it! You’re quite jittery though, is everything okay?” Jin asked giving her a worried look. 

She forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah I’m fine. My phone vibrating just scared me a little is all.” 

Jin gave her a sympathetic smile and ruffled her hair not knowing how else to respond.

The change in her behavior was not only noticed by Jimin but by his members as well. 

“Is everything okay with her?”

“Did you guys get into an argument or something? She seems so upset.” 

“How is she today Jimin?” 

These were questions proposed to Jimin almost on a daily basis for over a week now. He had tried countless times to get an answer out of her but, she always avoided his questions or came up with some lie that he was able to see through. This change in her behavior started a couple days after that night Jimin was shot at. Besides trying to sort through her lies for some sort of truth, Jimin had picked at his own brain until oblivion wondering if he was the reason for her sudden shift in character. 

She stayed crouched down on the floor praying that whoever had just texted her was one of her friends and not that unknown person but to her dismay, it was the latter.

Unknown [Sent Saturday 8:45pm]: Give back the money that your little friends took from us. Drop it off at the train station 6 blocks away from your university in exactly 2 hours. Go alone. If we suspect that you’ve bought anyone, Jimin will pay the consequences.

She glanced up at Jin to make sure he couldn’t see what she was reading before tucking her phone back into her pocket. The feeling of fear she was now so familiar with began to settle into her body and she was certain of two things: either she going to pass out or throw up at any given second. Not only did she have to successfully steal Jimin’s money but also make it to the given location in time, which was basically impossible. 

“Come on.” Jimin sighed pulling her up to her feet before leading her to his bedroom.

“You’re so tense, like unusually tense today.” Jimin commented taking a seat next to her on his bed. 

She immediately pulled away when she felt his hand on top of her thigh. Sighing in frustration, Jimin retracted and pulled at his hair not knowing how to reach out to her anymore. 

“What’s been going on with you?”Jimin groaned letting his back fall against his comforter. 

She remained silent and tried her best to hold back her tears. The guilt that had been piling up on her shoulders didn’t allow for her to enjoy Jimin’s touches or kisses. Every time he smiled at her, she was reminded of all the lies she’s told so she decided to avoid eye contact with him. And every time he touched her, she would remember that she did not deserve to relish in his embrace so she would sit away from him.

“I’m taking you home.” Jimin said, not a single emotion in his voice. 

Almost immediately she grabbed his wrists and shook her head. He couldn’t take her home now because she wouldn’t be able to finish her ‘mission’. 

“No wait! Please, I-I’m sorry,” Her eyes darted back and forth trying to come up with a reason to stay, “I’m sorry I’ve been so in and out of it. I’m just really, really, really stressed out with school.” 

She hoped to god Jimin wouldn’t be able to see through her fib but he was always one step ahead of her. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Jimin asked with a raised brow. 

She shook her head, “All my profs decided that it’d be a good idea to schedule back to back exams so I’ve just been dealing with that.”

Still extremely suspicious of her, Jimin sat back up but still kept his distance from her. 

“I’ve been with you through exam weeks and you’ve never acted this way before.” Jimin pointed out. 

She mentally cursed Jimin for knowing her so well but she had better things to worry about. 

“This semester is a lot more difficult,” she quickly said, “anyways it’s getting late and I should get going. I need to change though so could you please like leave the room for a second?” and if Jimin wasn’t suspicious before, he definitely was now. 

“You literally stopped me from taking you home just a few minutes ago and you’ve never had a problem changing with me in the same room as you before so what gives?” Jimin asked knowing that he had her cornered. 

She felt so small under Jimin’s piercing gaze because she knew that he had her all figured out. 

“Well maybe I have an issue with it now.” She said and wanted to slap herself for sounding so pathetic. 

Jimin leaned in towards her, his hard gaze just moments ago had now softened and he hesitantly cupped her cheeks in his hands. It was killing him seeing the one person that he loved more than anything in the world look so frightened and not knowing what to do. “I’ve told you a million times and I’ll say it again,” his voice matching the softness in his eyes, “you have nothing to fear or worry about as long as I’m by your side babygirl. I’d fucking take a bullet for you so if there is anything that is troubling you, please just tell me.” 

She bit her lower lip so hard she was sure she had drawn blood. The way that he was holding her and speaking to her made her heart ache with such greatness that she didn’t know was possible. She wanted to smooth out the wrinkles forming between his eyebrows with her thumbs and kiss away all the doubt he had in his mind. She wanted to tell him what was happening so badly but if she did, Jimin taking a bullet for her would be a possible reality.

“I’m okay Jimin!” She lied with forced a smile, “Like I said, I’m just stressed with school.” 

Jimin took his hands away from her and stood up before facing her with his arms crossed, “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is eating away at you. And don’t even try to give me that bullshit school excuse because I’m not buying it.”

______________________________________________________________________

Unknown [Sent Sunday 9:56pm]: Sweetheart you failed to carry out our orders yesterday. Jimin told you he’d be home by 11:30 tonight but don’t stay up waiting because we’re going to keep him company later than that.

That dreaded message was what she received a day after she failed to carry out the anonymous senders instructions. This sender knew exactly what they were doing psychologically to her and they were probably having so much fun.

She sent Jimin another text to call her as soon as he could. It was 10 minutes past 11:30 and every minute that passed by only made her more and more anxious. By now she had probably sent him 10 text messages and called him 3 times only to receive more anxiety from the lack of response.

It was now 12:45am and she had sent Jimin around 30 messages depicting the same thing “Call me asap”, “Jimin where are you?”, “This is an emergency.”

By 2:30am she was breaking out into cold sweat and was only a second away from having a heart attack. She was so on edge that even breathing was difficult. When she sat down, she had to get back up to pace around and when she paced around, she had to sit back down to calm her nerves. By 3:00am tears of frustration were running down her cheeks and her hair was a mess from the amount of times she ran her hand through it. Horrible scenarios played in her head and as the minute hand ticked on, they only got more and more violent.  

She almost fell because of how hard her legs were trembling when she heard her front door unlock. In came a distraught looking Jimin and she didn’t know whether to cry in relief or scream in frustration. 

“Jimin! What the fuck!” she sobbed shoving his chest. 

Trying to contain his anger, Jimin only leaned his head back and probed the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He allowed her to assault his chest a couple more times before grabbing onto her wrists and calling out her name in a warning. 

“Is there a reason why I have almost 50 texts and miscalls from you?” he sighed. 

She tried to fight against his grip but failed. 

“You said you’d be home by 11:30 tonight! It’s 3:00am! I was worried Jimin! You could’ve been dead for all I know!” she heaved, her voice getting caught in her throat. 

“You’re acting like this is the first time I’ve done something like this. I said I might be home by 11:30, I didn’t promise that I would be. Besides, my business doesn’t end when I want it to and you know that so why are you freaking out tonight? Actually, why have you been freaking out in general?” Jimin’s voice came out calm but how hard he was gripping onto her wrists told another story. 

She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t come up with a reason good enough to explain her episode so she just closed her mouth and hung her head in defeat. Jimin frowned and took in her disheveled appearance. He took in how badly she was shaking. And he especially took note of how her body froze when her phone notified her of a text. 

“Who is that?” Jimin asked with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s texting you at 3am and why are you scared?” 

He let go of her wrists and made his way over to the coffee table where her phone was resting only to be stunned by how quick she snatched it away. Jimin watched as she took a quick look at her phone and saw that her fingertips had gone white at how hard she was gripping onto it.

 Unknown [Sent Monday 3:30am]: Were we too mean tonight? By now you’ve probably figured out that Jimin is fine but don’t forget the fear you felt tonight sweetie. This is your last strike though so unless you really want something to happen, you better carry through with instructions next time.

“Who is it?” Jimin asked once again through clenched teeth, his voice coming out as a growl. 

He was rapidly losing his patience with her and if she wasn’t going to comply anytime soon, Jimin was going to go absolutely insane. 

“It’s just my group member updating me on our project.” She lied while shoving her phone into her pocket. 

“Cut the fucking bullshit already!” Jimin shouted, finally snapping. 

She flinched at the volume of his voice and watched as he grabbed a fistful of his hair while letting out a groan. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face before turning around and going to the door. 

“If you’re not going to cooperate then I’m just going to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you myself.” Jimin spat and gave her a look that tore her heart apart before slamming the door.

______________________________________________________________________

It had been almost 3 days since he last saw her and as much as it pained him to know that she was hurting and probably lonely, he just couldn’t bring himself to be with her at the moment. It was almost irritating to see her so dysfunctional especially when she wouldn’t let him help her, so he figured that a little time away from each other would be best for both him and her. 

“So you’re just giving up?” Yoongi yawned typing away on his laptop. 

Jimin rolled his eyes and threw a piece of scrap paper at the older one, “I’m not giving up. I just think space is necessary at the moment.” 

“Sounds like giving up.” Yoongi murmured only to have Jimin throw another scrap paper at him. 

It was nearing 1am and Jimin was still wide-awake. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts, he dragged himself into Yoongi’s room for some company. Yoongi was the most honest and blunt out of the group and Jimin often came to him for advice. In fact, he was hoping that Yoongi would be able to either talk some sense into him or lend him some wise words tonight.

“I’m just so lost dude. I’ve tried everything and she’s still pushing me away. She looks so damn freaked out all the time and I can’t even comfort her without her freaking out some more.” Jimin sighed leaning his head against Yoongi’s bed. 

He heard Yoongi hum in response followed by the almost soothing sound of his keyboard clicking. Jimin could tell Yoongi was thinking and he was itching to hear what he had to say. 

“Are you sure you’ve tried everything? What if there’s something you’ve only glazed over.” 

And Jimin closed his eyes to think. Was there something he had missed? Was there something he wasn’t paying enough attention to? He thought back on all the mental notes he had made in the past couple weeks and felt his head spin by how many of them there were but, they were all connected somehow and he just had to get to the core of it. Yoongi almost smiled when he saw Jimin shoot up in realization. 

“Please tell me you know how to tap into someone’s phone.” Jimin exclaimed, his heart racing with excitement at his new breakthrough. 

“I’ve broken through dozens of firewalls, wired money from ceo’s without being caught, turned off security cameras in other cities from my room, but tapping a phone? Fuck me.” Yoongi replied sarcastically before getting genuinely offended by the younger one’s doubt.

 ______________________________________________________________________

Jimin felt his blood boil as he scrolled through her text messages. His hands mimicked her trembling but his were trembling out of pure rage. It took every ounce of control not to punch a hole through his wall or throw his phone onto the ground until it shattered. Jimin wanted to slam his head against the wall repeatedly for not doing this sooner despite the amount of times her phone had raised some sort of suspicion out of him. He absolutely hated that he was invading her privacy but this had to be done. It was now was 7am and all Jimin could think about were the different ways he would torture the person who had put her through so much pain and trauma for the past weeks. There was no way in hell Jimin would able to be sleep a wink until his hands were stained with this person’s blood. He let out a laugh that only the devil itself would appreciate in this situation before waking up his members to show them his new findings.

 ______________________________________________________________________

Unknown [Sent Friday 10:00pm]: We’re in room 802. Once again, go alone. 10:20 on the dot sweetie.

She kept that text message opened on her phone as a reference so she wouldn’t get lost in the maze of rooms in this gigantic hotel. She tried her best to seem normal but she was almost certain that people could see that she was not okay by how wobbly her legs were and by the amount of times she had tripped over her own feet. She had a valid reason behind her anxiousness though because tonight she was meeting the people behind her misery face-to-face for the first time.

The unknown sender decided to make her bring all her most valuable jewelry to them as a compromise when she explained why stealing back the money from Jimin was impossible. Sehun knew that Jimin had gifted her with numerous pieces of jewelry worth hundreds to thousands of dollars when he had gone through her photos. All her jewelry combined would not even come close to the original amount of money Jimin and his gang had stolen from Sehun but, the satisfaction of infiltrating Jimin’s private life and destroying something so precious to him was a good enough.

She was only able to admire the elegant décor of the hallway for brief moments as she got closer and closer to the dreaded room where her nightmare in human form was waiting. The crystal chandelier was a wonderful contrast against the black marble flooring and huge potted plants lined up against the walls gave the hall that subtle burst of colour that really pulled everything together. Her footsteps grew heavy and her heart hammered against her ribcage as she approached room 802. She patted the side of her tote bag to ensure that her box of jewelry was there before checking the time on her phone-10:20pm on the dot. Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on the door and hoped that this would be the last time she’d have to deal with whomever was on the other side.

She couldn’t even see the face of her perpetrator because she was immediately pressed against the door right after they opened it. Before she could open her mouth to protest against their actions, she felt a pair of soft lips against hers. Her eyes widened in shock and she used all her strength to push the person off her body only to have the person lay their hands over her own, keeping it pressed against their chest. 

“Hey shh, shh, babygirl it’s me. It’s Jimin.” she heard him coo and if it weren’t for his grip on her, she would’ve fallen to the floor by now. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m so sorry.” Jimin apologized as she fell against him and sobbed. 

He didn’t mean to react the way that he did but when he opened the door and saw her standing there with such fear and determination in her eyes, he lost all sense of logic. She was willing to face people she didn’t know, give up her belongings against her will and continue to carry on this heavy burden all by herself, for him. She was so small, so vulnerable and so ignorant when it came to his world, which only made his need to protect her that much more stronger.

Jimin hooked his arm under her legs and carried her limp body with him towards the bed and sat down. He cradled her in his arms and held her tighter against him every time he heard her sob. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known. I can’t believe I let this slip right under my nose, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jimin repeated his apology like a mantra. 

He closed his eyes, as he couldn’t bear the sight of her literally crumbling apart in his arms. 

“You were so brave. I can’t even imagine the bullshit that you went through.” He continued to hold her tight against his chest until he felt her body stop shaking.

Besides her sniffling, the only other sound that could be heard was the city traffic and the only source of light the two of them had was from the huge balcony across the bed they were situated in. It stayed silent between the two of them as Jimin waited until she felt like she had regained some self-composure. 

“How’d you find out?” she asked quietly. 

Her head was still pressed against his chest and her hands were now intertwined with his. 

“I did what those bastards did, I tapped your phone and I’m sorry. I know that’s an invasion of your privacy but I honestly didn’t know what else to do.” Jimin’s eyes darkened briefly when he spoke about Sehun and Chanyeol. “But you don’t have to worry about them anymore. The rest of the members have got them locked up somewhere and now they’re just waiting on me to figure out what I want to do them.” 

She felt tears roll down her cheeks again when she heard the strain in Jimin’s voice. 

“Jimin I was so scared. I was so scared of them. I was so scared that they were going to hurt you.” She confessed. 

He brought her hands up towards him and left a kiss on each before lowering them back down on her lap. 

“Look at me.” He demanded in a soft voice and she complied. 

He wiped away her tears before smiling, “I’ve told you so many times that you have nothing to worry about. You are my fucking world and I would do anything in my power for you. I made a promise to myself and to you that I would shield you from as much of this bullshit life of mine as possible. So like I said before, you have nothing to worry about babygirl. And even if you decide that you don’t want me anymore, I’m still going to run to you whenever you call.”

Not knowing how to express how much his words meant to her, she sat up and pulled his head towards her until they lips meant. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his dark locks while he wrapped his arms around her torso. They kissed each other with so much desperation as if they were trying to erase what had happened for the past few weeks away.  He pulled away to pepper kisses of apologies against her jawline and down her neck towards her collarbone before stopping and going back to her lips. She felt his hands snake under her shirt before resting them back on her waist.

“Don’t you ever think that I can’t be there for you.” Jimin whispered resting his forehead against hers. 

She nodded and ushered a silent apology to which Jimin only shook his head at. 

“No I’m sorry babygirl. I’m never letting anything like this happen again.” And she smiled believing his words 100%. “But you really thought I couldn’t handle Sehun and Chanyeol?” Jimin teased after sensing that she had calmed down a lot. She pulled away from him and punched his arm. 

“This isn’t funny Jimin.” He only gave her his signature goofy smile before pushing her down on her bed and giving her another kiss.

“Alright I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “now, let’s get you some much needed rest that you deserve. I’ll be here until you fall asleep and when you wake up, we’re going to that breakfast place that you love and then we’re going to get you a damn flip phone or even a pager just to be on the safe side.“

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. I’m not too confident in it either but I wanted to push it out per usual.  ANYWAYS, if you want, you should follow me on aff. I post my oneshots there and hopefully will be working on a fanfic soon. Here’s the link!

Also my friend is writing an incredible Taehyung Demon AU. It’s got smut, angst, a hot Taehyung demon like what more could you want? We’ve been kind of working on it together and I’m just so excited for it to really progress. You can read that here! 

[aion-rsa]

Tor Teen Acquires Dark YA Fantasy All of Us Villains (Exclusive)

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

“Do you hear that? That’s the sound of bones breaking.”

Are you hooked yet? The line above comes from the first book in an upcoming YA duology from Amanda Foody (Ace of Shades) and Christine Lynn Herman (The Devouring Gray). It’s called All of Us Villains and, judging by the synopsis and excerpt below, the book seems to harness the clever plot mechanics of The Hunger Games and the thematic brilliance of V.E. Schwab’s Villans series, all in one YA duology package. Or, as Senior Editor at Tor Teen Ali Fisher puts it:

Foody and Herman have conjured a wicked little city built on blood. Their story is a brutal one: a death tournament that takes place in the long shadows cast by legacy. It’s survival-of-the-richest, where the wealth is measured in magick. Foody and Herman wield sharp critiques of power, inheritance, and the culture of competition.

To expand on that a bit more, All of Us Villains is set in the city of Ilvernath, where every generation seven families compete to the death for control of high magick (2020, amirite?). While the “powerful, villainous” Lowes have won almost every tournament, this year, the victory is up for grabs as a “salacious, tell-all book” has given each of the other six champions “a means to win.” Very Triwizard Tournament.

All of Us Villains Co-Writing Team

Herman and Foody met in 2016 during Pitch Wars, and have been friends ever since.

“Some friendships have this sense of inevitability about them—like, of course we’re going to be in each other’s lives now,” said Herman of the relationship. “That was how it felt from the first time we ‘met’ via Skype and wound up talking for three hours. After that, we became critique partners for our solo projects, bouncing ideas off one another, reading drafts, offering invaluable feedback. We understood one another’s creative processes so well that it sometimes felt like mind reading. Co-writing was an organic next step.”

Foody adds: “As two lifelong fans of fantasy books, when it came to writing a story together, we wanted to subvert readers’ expectations of the genre while still writing a novel YA fantasy readers will love. We achieved this by crafting a fully fantastical, second world setting that is modern-inspired. These teenagers go to high school. They support indie spellmaker shops. They buy brand name enchantments. Not only was doing this wildly fun, it also makes the reality of the death tournament seem all the more grim. It feels a lot closer to home.”

All of Us Villains Excerpt

ALISTAIR LOWE “The Lowes shaped cruelty into a crown, and oh, they wear it well.” A Tradition of Tragedy: The True Story of the Town that Sends Its Children to Die

The Lowe family had always been the undisputed villains of their town’s ancient, blood-stained story, and no one understood that better than the Lowe brothers.

The family lived on an isolated estate of centuries-worn stone, swathed in moss and shadowed in weeping trees. On mischief nights, children from Ilvernath sometimes crept up to its towering wrought iron fence, daring their friends to touch the famous padlock chained around the gate–the one engraved with a scythe.

Grins like goblins, the children murmured, because the children in Ilvernath loved fairy tales–especially real ones. Pale as plague and silent as spirits. They’ll tear your throat and drink your soul.

All these tales were deserved.

These days, the Lowe brothers knew better than to tempt the town’s wrath, but that didn’t stop them from sneaking over the fence in the throes of night, relishing the taste of some reckless thrill. 

“Do you hear that?” The older one, Hendry Lowe, stood up, brushed the forest floor off his gray t-shirt, and cracked each of his knuckles, one by one. “That’s the sound of rules breaking.”

Hendry Lowe was too pretty to worry about rules. His nose was freckled from afternoons napping in sunshine. His soft curls kissed his ears and cheekbones, overgrown from months between haircuts. His clothes smelled sweet from morning pastries often stuffed in his pockets.

Hendry Lowe was also too charming to play a villain.

The younger brother, Alistair, leaped from the fence and crashed gracelessly to the ground. He didn’t like doing anything without magick, because he was never otherwise very good at it–even an action as simple as landing. But tonight he had no magick to waste. 

“Do you hear that?” Alistair echoed, wincing as he rose to his feet. “That’s the sound of bones breaking.”

Although the two brothers looked alike, Alistair wore the Lowe features far differently than Hendry. Pale skin from a lifetime spent indoors, eyes the color of cigarette ashes, a widow’s peak as sharp as a blade. He wore a wool sweater in September because he was perpetually cold. He carried the Sunday crossword in his pocket because he was perpetually bored. He was two years younger than Hendry, a good deal more powerful, and a great deal more wicked.

Alistair Lowe played a perfect villain. Not because he was instinctively cruel or openly proud, but because, sometimes, he liked to. Many of the stories whispered by the children of Ilvernath came from him.

“This is a shitty idea,” Alistair told his brother. “You know that, right?”

“You say that every time.”

Alistair shivered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “This time it’s different.”

Two weeks ago, the moon in Ilvernath had turned crimson, piercing and bright like a fresh wound in the sky. It was called the Blood Moon, the sign that, after twenty years of peace, the tournament was approaching once more. Only a fortnight remained until the fall of the Blood Veil, and neither brother wanted to spend it in the hushed, sinister halls of their home.

The walk downtown was long–it was a waste of magick to drain a Here to There spellring, and they couldn’t drive. Both were lost in their thoughts. Hendry looked like he was fantasizing about meeting a cute girl, judging from how he kept fiddling with his curls and smoothing the wrinkles in his sleeves.

Alistair was thinking about death. More specifically, about causing it.

The gloomy stone architecture of Ilvernath had stood for over sixteen hundred years, but in the last few decades, it had been renovated with sleek glass storefronts and trendy outdoor restaurants. Despite its disorienting maze of cobbled, one-way streets, questionable amenities, and minimal parking, the small city was considered an up-and-coming spot for the art and magick scene.

Not that the seven cursed families of Ilvernath paid much attention to the modern world, even if the world had recently begun paying attention to them.

The Magpie was the boys’ favorite pub, although no one would guess that from how infrequently they visited. Determined to keep their identities concealed and their photographs out of the papers, Alistair insisted they vary the location for their night-time excursions. They couldn’t afford to become familiar faces–they’d been homeschooled for that very reason. The way their grandmother talked, one whisper of their names and the city would be raising their pitchforks.

Alistair looked grimly upon the Magpie, its sign a dark shadow in the red moonlight, and wondered if the trouble was worth it. 

“You don’t have to come inside,” Hendry told him.

“Someone needs to watch out for you.”

Hendry reached underneath his t-shirt and revealed a piece of quartz dangling on a chain. The inside pulsed with scarlet light–the color of a spellstone fully charged with high magick. 

Alistair grabbed Hendry by the wrist and shoved the stone back beneath his shirt before someone noticed. “You’re asking for trouble.” 

Hendry only winked at him. “I’m asking for a drink.”

Magick was a valuable resource throughout the world–something to be found, collected, and then crafted into specific spells or curses. Once upon a time, there had been two types of magick: frighteningly powerful high magick; and plentiful, weaker common magick. Throughout history, empires had greedily warred for control of the high magick supply, and by the time humanity invented the telescope and learned to bottle beer, they had depleted it entirely.

Or so they’d believed. 

Hundreds of years ago, seven families had clashed over who would control Ilvernath’s high magick. And so a terrible compromise was reached–a curse the families cast upon themselves. A curse that had remained a secret… until one year ago.

Every generation, each of the seven families was required to put forth a champion to compete in a tournament to the death. The victor would award their family exclusive claim over Ilvernath’s high magick, a claim that expired upon the beginning of the next cycle, at which point the tournament began anew.

Historically, the Lowes dominated. For every three tournaments, they won two. The last cycle, twenty years ago, Alistair’s aunt had murdered all the other competitors within four days.

Before they’d learned about the tournament, the rest of Ilvernath could only point to the Lowes’ wealth and cruelty as the reason an otherwise mysterious, reclusive family commanded such fearful respect from lawmakers and spellmakers. Now they knew exactly how dangerous that family truly was.

So with the foreboding Blood Moon gleaming overhead, tonight was a risky time for the only two Lowes of tournament age to crave live music and a pint of ale.

“It’s one drink,” Hendry said, giving Alistair a weak smile. 

Although the Lowe family hadn’t formally chosen their champion yet, the boys had always known it would be Alistair. Tonight meant far more to either of them than a simple drink. 

“Fine.” Alistair threw open the door.

The pub was a cramped, slovenly place. The air was thick from tobacco smoke; rock music blared from a jukebox in the corner. Red and white checkered cloths draped over every booth. For the sociable, there were two pool tables. For those keeping a lower profile, there was a pinball machine, its buttons sticky from whisky fingers.

The Magpie was flooded with cursechasers. They traveled the world to gawk at magickal anomalies like Ilvernath’s, such as the curse in Oxacota that left a whole town asleep for nearly a century, or the curse on the ruins in Môlier-sur-Olenne that doomed trespassers with a violent death in exactly nine days’ time. Now, the tourists clustered in groups, whispering over well-worn copies of A Tradition of Tragedy, the recent bestseller that had exposed the death tournament and Ilvernath’s surviving vein of high magick… and that had catapulted their remote city into the international spotlight.

“I didn’t believe that the Blood Moon was actually scarlet,” Alistair overheard one of them whispering. “I thought it was just a name.”

“The tournament is a high magick curse. High magick is always red,” another answered. 

“Or maybe,” drawled a third voice, “it’s called the Blood Moon because a bunch of kids murder each other over it. Ever think of that?”

Alistair and Hendry avoided the tourists as they shuffled through the pub. “Do you think Grandma will start getting fan mail?” asked Hendry, snickering. “I heard there’s a photograph of our whole family in the first chapter. I hope I look good.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but that picture is from ten years ago,” Alistair said flatly. 

Hendry looked momentarily disappointed, then delighted. “So the entire world knows you had a bowl cut?”

Alistair rolled his eyes and headed toward the bar. Even though he was a year younger than Hendry, his hollow stare always made him look older–old enough to avoid being carded. 

After he ordered, Alistair found himself waiting beside a pair of girls bickering with one another. 

“Did you honestly come here alone?” the first girl asked. She smelled strongly of cheap beer, and like all of the patrons here, she wore crystal spellrings on each finger, glowing white with common magick. Alistair guessed they were filled with simple spells: Hangover Cure, Zit Zapper, Matchstick… whatever suited a Friday night pub crawl.

“Of course not,” the second girl said haughtily. “My friends are over there.” She gestured vaguely at the entire bar.

“I thought so,” said the first girl smugly. “You’re famous now, you know. There’s a picture of you on the cover of one of my mum’s magazines. You’re wearing sweatpants.”

“It’s been known to happen on occasion,” the second girl grumbled.

“I heard the Darrows have chosen now, too. That makes three champions so far–Carbry Darrow, Elionor Payne, and you.” The first girl smiled viciously, in the kind of way that made Alistair guess the girls had once been friends. “But no one wants the Macaslans to win.”

Alistair realized it now–he recognized the second girl. She was the Macaslan who’d announced her selection as champion months and months before the Blood Moon appeared, and the paparazzi had branded her the face of the tournament ever since. Alistair wasn’t surprised that the Macaslans would stoop to such desperate grabs for attention–his grandmother had always described them as the bottom-feeders of the seven families, willing to use unsavory methods for even a taste of power. But the Macaslan girl’s designer handbag and freshly pressed blazer hardly made her seem like the lowlife he’d imagined her to be.

At their words, several of the cursechasers turned to stare, and the Macaslan girl cleared her throat and smoothed down her vibrantly red curls.

“Well, I don’t care what people think of me,” she said. But Alistair disagreed. No one wore heels to a dive bar if they didn’t care about their reputation. “The evening news already called me and the Lowe champion rivals. Because I’m the one who’s going to win.”

The tipsy girl rolled her eyes. “The Lowes haven’t even announced their champion yet. Whoever they are, they mustn’t be that impressive.”

As the bartender slid Alistair his drinks, Alistair fantasized about how quickly the Macaslan champion’s confident expression would fade when he held out his hand, a ring glowing on his knuckles and charged with a curse, and informed her exactly how impressive he was.

But there would be time for that, once the tournament began.

Still, as he turned around, pints in both hands, he met the Macaslan girl’s eyes. They held gazes for a moment, assessing one another. But not wanting to be recognized, he turned and walked away.

At the pinball machine, Hendry took the offered glass and shook his head. “I thought you’d start something.” A spell shimmered around his ears–a Listen In, probably. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Maybe I should’ve.” Alistair took a sip and smiled despite himself. He shouldn’t be excited for the tournament, but he’d been groomed for it since his childhood, and he was ready to win.

“No, definitely not. What is it you say about our family? ‘Grins like goblins. They’ll tear your throat and drink your soul?’ You can’t help yourself. You have no restraint.” Although it sounded like Hendry was scolding him, his smirk said otherwise. 

“Says the one who brought a high magick spellstone to a dive bar,” Alistair countered.

“Someone has to watch out for you,” Hendry murmured, repeating Alistair’s exact words from earlier. 

Alistair scoffed and turned his attention to the pinball machine. Its artwork resembled the fairy tales he’d grown up with: a prince rescuing a princess from a castle, a knight riding into battle, a witch laughing over a cauldron. And Alistair’s favorite, the dragon, its mouth open into a snarl–worth one hundred points if the pinball struck its fangs. 

Hendry sighed and changed the subject. “I had a dream today–”

“Typically, one has them at night–”

“While napping in the graveyard.” Despite his charm and freckled nose, Hendry was still a Lowe. He had a little villain in him. The Lowe family graveyard was his favorite place, full of vague, unnerving epitaphs for those who’d died young–even beyond the tournament, their family had a surprisingly large amount of tragedy in its history. “In the dream, you really were a monster.”

Alistair smiled so wide he nearly spit out his drink. “What did I look like?”

“Oh, you looked the same.”

“Then what made me a monster?”

“You were collecting the spellrings of dead children and hiding them in your wardrobe, cackling and howling about souls trapped inside them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alistair said. “I’d do something like that now.”

“You know, you should take a page out of that Macaslan girl’s book and try to seem more likable. This tournament isn’t like all the other ones–the curse isn’t a secret anymore. I mean, look at all these tourists! In Ilvernath! If you plan to survive during the tournament, you’ll need alliances with other champions. Partnerships with spellmakers. You’ll need the world’s favor.”

Alistair looked at his brother intensely. Hendry was breaking their unspoken rule not to discuss the tournament, and it wasn’t like him to be so serious. Besides, it didn’t matter that A Tradition of Tragedy had turned Ilvernath’s peculiar red moon and its resulting bloodshed into a global scandal. The Lowes still had their pick of spellmakers lining up to give Alistair their wares. Misfortune had a way of finding those who defied the Lowe family–their grandmother’s notorious curses made certain of that.

“Are you worried about me?” Alistair asked.

“Of course.”

“The family isn’t.”

“I’m your big brother. I have to worry about you.”

Alistair’s first instinct was, as always, to crack a joke. But confident or not, it was difficult to find humor in the tournament. 

Kill or be killed. It was a somber affair. 

Alistair’s fear wasn’t for his life, but for his mind. Even the most villainous Lowe victors left the tournament changed, broken. But Alistair refused to meet such a fate. No matter how brutal, how terrible he’d need to act, he couldn’t let himself care. Not about the other champions. Not about his soul.

He needed to become the most villainous of them all.

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Used with permission from Tor Teen, an imprint of Tom Doherty Associates; a trade division of Macmillan Publishers. 

All of Us Villains is set to publish in fall 2021, with the concluding book in the duology coming in fall 2022.

The post Tor Teen Acquires Dark YA Fantasy All of Us Villains (Exclusive) appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[wineanddinosaur]

A Power Ranking of Cosmopolitans from ‘Sex and the City’

In the final moments of the 2008 “Sex and the City” movie, the HBO hit show’s four lead characters — Carrie Bradshaw, Miranda Hobbs, Samantha Jones, and Charlotte York — enjoy a nostalgic reunion with an old friend, Cosmo.

“This is delicious!” Charlotte exclaims, as she sips a shimmering pink Cosmopolitan cocktail from an oversized Martini glass. “Why did we ever stop drinking these?” Miranda wonders. In turn, Carrie quips, “Because everyone else started!”

Their conversation is loaded with intentional irony. Many people did, in fact, start drinking Cosmopolitans (or Cosmos) during the late ‘90s, arguably because of the drink’s association with the show and its sex-column-writing protagonist, Carrie Bradshaw. Whether or not the Cosmo is, as Charlotte says, a “delicious” drink, is historically and hotly debated.

Before “Sex and the City” (SATC) first hit the small screen in 1998, the bright pink cocktail had already amassed an impressive following among New York socialites and celebrities in the late 1980s. Bartender Toby Cecchini is widely credited with introducing the drink to high-profile regulars at TriBeCa brasserie The Odeon, where he worked at the time.

Cecchini, who now owns Long Island Bar in Brooklyn, has often recounted how he “adapted” the recipe from another pink cocktail called the Cosmopolitan, which was doing the rounds in San Francisco gay bars. Cecchini learned of that drink from a colleague, who was introduced to it by friends visiting from the West Coast.

“It was gross, but it looked pretty,” Cecchini told Punch in a 2017 interview. “I went about reconstructing it.” He upgraded the drink’s ingredients, swapping out rail vodka and store-bought lime juice with new-on-the-market Absolut Citron, a lemon-flavored vodka, and freshly squeezed citrus. In place of grenadine, Cecchini used cranberry juice to give the drink its signature hue, and added triple sec (Cointreau, by many accounts) for sweet balance.

Ironically, the ingredients hardly mattered. What shot the drink into popularity was its instantly recognizable pink hue. “It was always made wrong, and you could tell, because it looked like a Negroni,” Cecchini said. “Nobody was doing the proper amount of lime juice. … There was too much cranberry. And still, to this day, people never get it right.”

The Cosmopolitan’s hit-or-miss ubiquity, and the countless overly sweet, artificial-looking recreations, sadly led to its downfall. But at its core, the Cosmo belongs to the “sour” family of cocktails, and is a sibling of other hugely popular drinks such as the Margarita and Daiquiri. In capable hands, and by avoiding gimmicky tools and ingredients, both can be crafted into stunning drinks. So is the Cosmo, too, worthy of a second chance?

VinePair decided to find out. To do so, we thought it would only be fitting to give the drink another go at the major New York bars and restaurants that featured in “Sex and the City.” After all, this was the show that helped make the drink famous.

Helping this writer on the Cosmo-fueled bar crawl was VinePair’s director of marketing, Jeff Licciardello, a late-to-the-game “Sex and the City” fan who regularly watches reruns of the show. VinePair columnist and cocktail enthusiast Aaron Goldfarb was also on hand to share his knowledge and palate (Goldfarb has been a regular fixture on previous VinePair bar crawls).

And making a special-guest appearance was Melissa Stokoski, an actor and comedian who leads guided “Sex and the City” tours two to three times a week for On Tour Locations.

To set the stage, our tasting began at the Cosmo’s original NYC home, The Odeon.

Our judging process was simple: If the establishment featured a Cosmo on its menu, we’d order that. If it didn’t, we would ask for one to be prepared according to the house specifications. Each taster scored each drink on preparation, presentation, ingredients, balance of flavors, and value for money. Scores were then averaged to determine our final ranking.

Setting the Standard: The Odeon

The NYC home of the Cosmo never featured in SATC, but it feels like the type of restaurant where the bougie leading characters would start the night. The TriBeCa institution captures a traditional French brasserie’s comfort and sophistication, while a long, incredibly well-lit art deco bar dazzles. (It also reportedly cost close to 10 percent of the restaurant’s opening budget when it debuted in 1980.)

The tasting team told our bartender about the Cosmo crawl, and he reacted excitedly, recounting the drink’s ties to the restaurant and detailing its popularity — he prepares 20 to 30 per shift, on average.

The perfectly pink Cosmos he served arrived in sturdy Martini glasses. In other, more modern establishments, the thickness of the glass would have felt tacky; but in this nostalgic setting, they were perfect. While our bartender free-poured the ingredients, the drinks were remarkably well balanced: tart, fruity, and acidic, with just the right amount of sweetness. Average score: 21.75/25

6. Cipriani

In SATC Season 3, Episode 3, “Attack of the Five Foot Ten Woman,” the girls brunch in SoHo’s Italian eatery, Cipriani. Flicking through The New York Times wedding section, they learn that Carrie’s ex, John James “Mr. Big” Preston, has married his girlfriend of five months, Natasha Naginsky.

Credit: Cipriani / Facebook.com

Drinking a Cosmo at Cipriani in 2020 proves to be a similar assault. The service is elitist, and the experience resembles an awkward first date you really want to end and will pay any price to get out of. In this case, that was $22. In return, we received a tiny, foamy Cosmo, served in the type of thick, stemmed water glasses designed for large-volume catered events and not expensive New York restaurants.

Cipriani’s bartender opted not to shake our drinks, but instead mixed them using a milkshake frother. The result was undeniably attractive, but not a classic Cosmo preparation by any parameters. It contained (unflavored) Stolichnaya vodka, tasted like pink lemonade seasoned with sour mix, and arrived with a clumsy lime-wedge garnish. While the Cosmopolitan has come to embody free-spirited fun, drinking this frothy concoction at Cipriani feels anything but. Average score: 8/25

5. Cafeteria

Chelsea’s Cafeteria restaurant, known for its 24/7 service, is also the location for numerous brunch scenes throughout the SATC series. Nearly two decades since the show finished, Cafeteria’s ambience evokes that late-30s friend who, rather than settling down like many of their contemporaries, is trying to keep the party going for as long as possible. The music, a compilation of Ibiza dance hits from the early 2000s, blares multiple decibels too loud, and the after-dark lighting is inappropriately low for any restaurant — even one that never closes.

As for its Cosmo: a modern interpretation that deserves some acknowledgement for effort, but the delivery, much like the bar/restaurant in general, is off. Served in a Nick & Nora glass, this Cosmo smelled like Starburst-infused vodka and tasted like an overly sweet passionfruit-spiked Sex on the Beach. Bearing as much resemblance to a classic Cosmopolitan as an Appletini does to a Martini, this is an accomplished Sandals resort cocktail at best. Average score: 12.25/25

4. Grand Bar & Lounge at the Soho Grand Hotel

Featured in Episode 15 of Season 4 (“Change of a Dress”), this hotel bar and lounge played host to a charity event put on by (fictional) hotel magnate Richard Wright, Samantha’s soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. During the formal “Black and White” party, Samantha learns Richard is seeing other women, and is shocked to discover how much it bothers her. “I think I have monogamy,” she tells her friends. “I caught it from you people.”

IRL, the Soho Grand delivers an authentic, glamorous SATC experience. The decor seasons stripped-back regal fittings with sleek 21st-century details. Both the bar and lounge feel expensive without being stuffy, and the staff provides remarkably friendly service.

Credit: Soho Grand Hotel / Facebook.com

If it’s Cosmos you’re looking for, you’ll need to order off-menu and there’s no Absolut Citron on the bar. The cocktails arrived in a stiletto-thin, oversized coupe glasses, garnished with a large orange twist. The sweet citrus fruit garnish ultimately hijacked the drink, and the mixture lacked boozy punch. As this Cosmo’s beauty is only skin-deep, it’s acceptable for a one-time fling but definitely not worthy of long-term commitment. Average score: 13/25

3. Onieal’s Bar and Restaurant

The most-recognizable bar from the show (On Tour Locations finishes its tours here), Onieal’s is better known to SATC fans as Scout, the bar co-owned by Steve Brady, Miranda’s husband, and Aidan Shaw, Carrie’s two-time boyfriend and one-time fiancé.

The main appeal of this Nolita bar today is its familiarity from the show. But past that, it’s hard to pin down exactly what the space serves as. “Is it a pub, lounge, or a dive bar?” we wondered. It’s dimly lit, has TV screens behind the bar, and is furnished with a mismatch of multicolored faux-velvet booths.

Sipping a Cosmo at Onieal’s is an obvious must for SATC fans, but for cocktail enthusiasts, the experience doesn’t deliver the same appeal. Served in a robust Martini glass (read: chunky), the cocktail had a vivid red hue, leading us to question whether there was too much cranberry juice in the mixture, or perhaps even an illicit splash of Rose’s Grenadine. Either way, the drink lacked tartness and acidity, and arrived with undesirable hints of Luden’s cough drops. Average score: 13/25

2. Buddakan

Featured in the 2008 “Sex and the City” movie, Carrie and fiancé Mr. Big choose Buddakan as the location for their wedding rehearsal dinner. During the course of the evening, Miranda accidentally plants seeds of doubt in Big’s mind, paving the way for numerous plot twists throughout the movie.

Situated in a nondescript (from the outside) industrial warehouse in the Meatpacking District, the cavernous bar and restaurant epitomizes everything you want from a SATC experience. There’s sushi Lounge music, courtesy of a live DJ who’s tucked away beside the bar; the kitchen serves Asian fusion dishes, like edamame dumplings, while the bar area, which overlooks the vast dining room below, seems custom-designed for bottle service.

Credit: Buddakan / Facebook.com

Of all the locations we visited, this was the only bar where we weren’t the only ones drinking Cosmos. We surely weren’t alone in enjoying them, either. A booze-forward cocktail, Buddakan’s Cosmo is rose pink, suggesting just the right proportion of cranberry juice (a notion that was backed up by its slightly astringent flavor profile). Tasters docked points for insufficient lime juice, but we doubted this would have been a major problem for Carrie and co. Average score: 16.5/25

1. Balthazar

“The most powerful woman in New York is not Tina Brown, or Diane Sawyer, or even Rosie O’Donnell,” Carrie says during the opening narration of Season 1, Episode 5 (“The Power of Female Sex”). “It’s the hostess at Balzac, which had overnight become the only restaurant that mattered.”

“Balzac,” the fictional French restaurant, proves too exclusive for even Carrie and Samantha to get a seat, so they opt to leave and eat elsewhere. The scene’s external shots are of bona fide Soho brasserie Balthazar. The restaurant also has interesting ties to the Cosmopolitan: Its owner, restaurateur Keith McNally, also founded The Odeon — he opened Balthazar in 1997 after selling his stake in The Odeon.

The brasserie shares similar DNA to The Odeon in both its decor and ambiance. But the energy is livelier and you can easily imagine the girls spending Friday night here, animatedly discussing the past week over a few rounds of Cosmos.

While the drink doesn’t feature on the menu, our bartender, Willis, informed us he had all the ingredients to whip up authentic Cosmos, including Absolut Citron. Within no time, he served a picture-perfect round of cocktails that accurately recreated The Odeon’s version, down to the bubblegum-pink hue and slightly dated, but not-out-of-place, Martini glasses. Refreshing, balanced, and sweet, without tasting cloying, these were amazing Cosmos. While The Odeon’s version was sharp around the edges, Balthazar’s slightly sweeter version was well rounded and perfectly balanced.

Sitting there with our perfect Cosmos in hand, we couldn’t help but wonder: Was this not only the best Cosmopolitan of our “Sex and the City” crawl, or does Balthazar offer the finest version of the drink in Manhattan, period? Either way, the jury was out: The Cosmopolitan is a delicious cocktail, after all. Average score: 22.5/25

The article A Power Ranking of Cosmopolitans from ‘Sex and the City’ appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/cosmopolitan-sex-city-ranking/

[johnboothus]

A Power Ranking of Cosmopolitans from Sex and the City

In the final moments of the 2008 “Sex and the City” movie, the HBO hit show’s four lead characters — Carrie Bradshaw, Miranda Hobbs, Samantha Jones, and Charlotte York — enjoy a nostalgic reunion with an old friend, Cosmo.

“This is delicious!” Charlotte exclaims, as she sips a shimmering pink Cosmopolitan cocktail from an oversized Martini glass. “Why did we ever stop drinking these?” Miranda wonders. In turn, Carrie quips, “Because everyone else started!”

Their conversation is loaded with intentional irony. Many people did, in fact, start drinking Cosmopolitans (or Cosmos) during the late ‘90s, arguably because of the drink’s association with the show and its sex-column-writing protagonist, Carrie Bradshaw. Whether or not the Cosmo is, as Charlotte says, a “delicious” drink, is historically and hotly debated.

Before “Sex and the City” (SATC) first hit the small screen in 1998, the bright pink cocktail had already amassed an impressive following among New York socialites and celebrities in the late 1980s. Bartender Toby Cecchini is widely credited with introducing the drink to high-profile regulars at TriBeCa brasserie The Odeon, where he worked at the time.

Cecchini, who now owns Long Island Bar in Brooklyn, has often recounted how he “adapted” the recipe from another pink cocktail called the Cosmopolitan, which was doing the rounds in San Francisco gay bars. Cecchini learned of that drink from a colleague, who was introduced to it by friends visiting from the West Coast.

“It was gross, but it looked pretty,” Cecchini told Punch in a 2017 interview. “I went about reconstructing it.” He upgraded the drink’s ingredients, swapping out rail vodka and store-bought lime juice with new-on-the-market Absolut Citron, a lemon-flavored vodka, and freshly squeezed citrus. In place of grenadine, Cecchini used cranberry juice to give the drink its signature hue, and added triple sec (Cointreau, by many accounts) for sweet balance.

Ironically, the ingredients hardly mattered. What shot the drink into popularity was its instantly recognizable pink hue. “It was always made wrong, and you could tell, because it looked like a Negroni,” Cecchini said. “Nobody was doing the proper amount of lime juice. … There was too much cranberry. And still, to this day, people never get it right.”

The Cosmopolitan’s hit-or-miss ubiquity, and the countless overly sweet, artificial-looking recreations, sadly led to its downfall. But at its core, the Cosmo belongs to the “sour” family of cocktails, and is a sibling of other hugely popular drinks such as the Margarita and Daiquiri. In capable hands, and by avoiding gimmicky tools and ingredients, both can be crafted into stunning drinks. So is the Cosmo, too, worthy of a second chance?

VinePair decided to find out. To do so, we thought it would only be fitting to give the drink another go at the major New York bars and restaurants that featured in “Sex and the City.” After all, this was the show that helped make the drink famous.

Helping this writer on the Cosmo-fueled bar crawl was VinePair’s director of marketing, Jeff Licciardello, a late-to-the-game “Sex and the City” fan who regularly watches reruns of the show. VinePair columnist and cocktail enthusiast Aaron Goldfarb was also on hand to share his knowledge and palate (Goldfarb has been a regular fixture on previous VinePair bar crawls).

And making a special-guest appearance was Melissa Stokoski, an actor and comedian who leads guided “Sex and the City” tours two to three times a week for On Tour Locations.

To set the stage, our tasting began at the Cosmo’s original NYC home, The Odeon.

Our judging process was simple: If the establishment featured a Cosmo on its menu, we’d order that. If it didn’t, we would ask for one to be prepared according to the house specifications. Each taster scored each drink on preparation, presentation, ingredients, balance of flavors, and value for money. Scores were then averaged to determine our final ranking.

Setting the Standard: The Odeon

The NYC home of the Cosmo never featured in SATC, but it feels like the type of restaurant where the bougie leading characters would start the night. The TriBeCa institution captures a traditional French brasserie’s comfort and sophistication, while a long, incredibly well-lit art deco bar dazzles. (It also reportedly cost close to 10 percent of the restaurant’s opening budget when it debuted in 1980.)

The tasting team told our bartender about the Cosmo crawl, and he reacted excitedly, recounting the drink’s ties to the restaurant and detailing its popularity — he prepares 20 to 30 per shift, on average.

The perfectly pink Cosmos he served arrived in sturdy Martini glasses. In other, more modern establishments, the thickness of the glass would have felt tacky; but in this nostalgic setting, they were perfect. While our bartender free-poured the ingredients, the drinks were remarkably well balanced: tart, fruity, and acidic, with just the right amount of sweetness. Average score: 21.75/25

6. Cipriani

In SATC Season 3, Episode 3, “Attack of the Five Foot Ten Woman,” the girls brunch in SoHo’s Italian eatery, Cipriani. Flicking through The New York Times wedding section, they learn that Carrie’s ex, John James “Mr. Big” Preston, has married his girlfriend of five months, Natasha Naginsky.

Credit: Cipriani / Facebook.com

Drinking a Cosmo at Cipriani in 2020 proves to be a similar assault. The service is elitist, and the experience resembles an awkward first date you really want to end and will pay any price to get out of. In this case, that was $22. In return, we received a tiny, foamy Cosmo, served in the type of thick, stemmed water glasses designed for large-volume catered events and not expensive New York restaurants.

Cipriani’s bartender opted not to shake our drinks, but instead mixed them using a milkshake frother. The result was undeniably attractive, but not a classic Cosmo preparation by any parameters. It contained (unflavored) Stolichnaya vodka, tasted like pink lemonade seasoned with sour mix, and arrived with a clumsy lime-wedge garnish. While the Cosmopolitan has come to embody free-spirited fun, drinking this frothy concoction at Cipriani feels anything but. Average score: 8/25

5. Cafeteria

Chelsea’s Cafeteria restaurant, known for its 24/7 service, is also the location for numerous brunch scenes throughout the SATC series. Nearly two decades since the show finished, Cafeteria’s ambience evokes that late-30s friend who, rather than settling down like many of their contemporaries, is trying to keep the party going for as long as possible. The music, a compilation of Ibiza dance hits from the early 2000s, blares multiple decibels too loud, and the after-dark lighting is inappropriately low for any restaurant — even one that never closes.

As for its Cosmo: a modern interpretation that deserves some acknowledgement for effort, but the delivery, much like the bar/restaurant in general, is off. Served in a Nick & Nora glass, this Cosmo smelled like Starburst-infused vodka and tasted like an overly sweet passionfruit-spiked Sex on the Beach. Bearing as much resemblance to a classic Cosmopolitan as an Appletini does to a Martini, this is an accomplished Sandals resort cocktail at best. Average score: 12.25/25

4. Grand Bar & Lounge at the Soho Grand Hotel

Featured in Episode 15 of Season 4 (“Change of a Dress”), this hotel bar and lounge played host to a charity event put on by (fictional) hotel magnate Richard Wright, Samantha’s soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. During the formal “Black and White” party, Samantha learns Richard is seeing other women, and is shocked to discover how much it bothers her. “I think I have monogamy,” she tells her friends. “I caught it from you people.”

IRL, the Soho Grand delivers an authentic, glamorous SATC experience. The decor seasons stripped-back regal fittings with sleek 21st-century details. Both the bar and lounge feel expensive without being stuffy, and the staff provides remarkably friendly service.

Credit: Soho Grand Hotel / Facebook.com

If it’s Cosmos you’re looking for, you’ll need to order off-menu and there’s no Absolut Citron on the bar. The cocktails arrived in a stiletto-thin, oversized coupe glasses, garnished with a large orange twist. The sweet citrus fruit garnish ultimately hijacked the drink, and the mixture lacked boozy punch. As this Cosmo’s beauty is only skin-deep, it’s acceptable for a one-time fling but definitely not worthy of long-term commitment. Average score: 13/25

3. Onieal’s Bar and Restaurant

The most-recognizable bar from the show (On Tour Locations finishes its tours here), Onieal’s is better known to SATC fans as Scout, the bar co-owned by Steve Brady, Miranda’s husband, and Aidan Shaw, Carrie’s two-time boyfriend and one-time fiancé.

The main appeal of this Nolita bar today is its familiarity from the show. But past that, it’s hard to pin down exactly what the space serves as. “Is it a pub, lounge, or a dive bar?” we wondered. It’s dimly lit, has TV screens behind the bar, and is furnished with a mismatch of multicolored faux-velvet booths.

Sipping a Cosmo at Onieal’s is an obvious must for SATC fans, but for cocktail enthusiasts, the experience doesn’t deliver the same appeal. Served in a robust Martini glass (read: chunky), the cocktail had a vivid red hue, leading us to question whether there was too much cranberry juice in the mixture, or perhaps even an illicit splash of Rose’s Grenadine. Either way, the drink lacked tartness and acidity, and arrived with undesirable hints of Luden’s cough drops. Average score: 13/25

2. Buddakan

Featured in the 2008 “Sex and the City” movie, Carrie and fiancé Mr. Big choose Buddakan as the location for their wedding rehearsal dinner. During the course of the evening, Miranda accidentally plants seeds of doubt in Big’s mind, paving the way for numerous plot twists throughout the movie.

Situated in a nondescript (from the outside) industrial warehouse in the Meatpacking District, the cavernous bar and restaurant epitomizes everything you want from a SATC experience. There’s sushi Lounge music, courtesy of a live DJ who’s tucked away beside the bar; the kitchen serves Asian fusion dishes, like edamame dumplings, while the bar area, which overlooks the vast dining room below, seems custom-designed for bottle service.

Credit: Buddakan / Facebook.com

Of all the locations we visited, this was the only bar where we weren’t the only ones drinking Cosmos. We surely weren’t alone in enjoying them, either. A booze-forward cocktail, Buddakan’s Cosmo is rose pink, suggesting just the right proportion of cranberry juice (a notion that was backed up by its slightly astringent flavor profile). Tasters docked points for insufficient lime juice, but we doubted this would have been a major problem for Carrie and co. Average score: 16.5/25

1. Balthazar

“The most powerful woman in New York is not Tina Brown, or Diane Sawyer, or even Rosie O’Donnell,” Carrie says during the opening narration of Season 1, Episode 5 (“The Power of Female Sex”). “It’s the hostess at Balzac, which had overnight become the only restaurant that mattered.”

“Balzac,”the fictional French restaurant, proves too exclusive for even Carrie and Samantha to get a seat, so they opt to leave and eat elsewhere. The scene’s external shots are of bona fide Soho brasserie Balthazar.The restaurant also has interesting ties to the Cosmopolitan: Its owner, restaurateur Keith McNally, also founded The Odeon — he opened Balthazar in 1997 after selling his stake in The Odeon.

The brasserie shares similar DNA to The Odeon in both its decor and ambiance. But the energy is livelier and you can easily imagine the girls spending Friday night here, animatedly discussing the past week over a few rounds of Cosmos.

While the drink doesn’t feature on the menu, our bartender, Willis, informed us he had all the ingredients to whip up authentic Cosmos, including Absolut Citron. Within no time, he served a picture-perfect round of cocktails that accurately recreated The Odeon’s version, down to the bubblegum-pink hue and slightly dated, but not-out-of-place, Martini glasses. Refreshing, balanced, and sweet, without tasting cloying, these were amazing Cosmos. While The Odeon’s version was sharp around the edges, Balthazar’s slightly sweeter version was well rounded and perfectly balanced.

Sitting there with our perfect Cosmos in hand, we couldn’t help but wonder: Was this not only the best Cosmopolitan of our “Sex and the City” crawl, or does Balthazar offer the finest version of the drink in Manhattan, period? Either way, the jury was out: The Cosmopolitan is a delicious cocktail, after all. Average score: 22.5/25

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