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littlemissmiller · 4 months ago

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Bird in a Cage

Part 2: Wanted and Needed

Pairing: dark!coriolanus x fem!reader

Summary: after spending another night in the palace, president snow has many things planned for you, and he just loves to dress you up.

Warning: 21+ (drinking), eventually smut, dark themes, toxic themes, kidnapping, obsession, possession, stalking

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: hello 👋🏼 ok so…i think i may be able to get another fic out today im thinking chapter 4 of Summer Highs will be ready today sooo just hang in there. this series however, the heat is turning up and we definitely got a smutty moment coming up (also im still working still The Shopkeeper’s Daughter part 2 y’all I promise I’ll get it done) so enjoy this one y’all, i know i did ❤︎︎

Series Masterlist

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The next morning you realize that you must have fallen asleep in the bathroom as you pull yourself up from the cold tile. Your neck and back hurts and you strain to turn it. You slowly get up and walk back into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed. You curl up, wanting to go back to sleep again, but you hear a knock that jolts you up.

“Yes?”

The same maid from last night enters. She’s holding a new outfit in her hand.

“Good morning. President Snow wishes to see you in this today. He also wishes to have you join him for breakfast so please change and knock when you’re done.”

“Tell him I didn’t sleep well last night and I want to rest. Please.” You plea

“I’m sorry, but these are my orders.” She frowns, holding the dress out in front of her.

You take it and hold it up. It’s a delicate blue, almost the same color as his eyes. It’s flowy, the shoulders slightly puffed out and the neckline is off the shoulder. She also hands you a pair of white heels and leaves the room. You want to cry again, but feel too physically exhausted to be able to. You begrudgingly roll out of bed and change.

Once all done up, you walk over to the door and knock on it. The maid and the two armed guards are waiting outside and you walk with them. This time they take you to a separate part of the palace, up the stairs and into a larger dining room. As you walk you take note of your surroundings, and continue plotting how you’re going to get out of here without him knowing. You might have to disappear for a while, but you’re not about to let him rip you from your life completely.

When you enter, he’s waiting, alone, sipping his tea and reading the paper. He glances up and smiles.

“Come sit my dear.“

The maid leaves, but the armed guards take their post just outside the room. You slowly walk towards and take the seat across from him.

“You look beautiful. I know how to dress you well, it seems.”

“Is this what you made the other girls wear?”

“No.” He flips the page “I tailor my outfits accordingly for each of you.”

“So what does that mean?”

“That dress, that black set? It’s yours. Anything I give you under my care is yours forever, understand?”

“Yes, President Snow.”

“Good girl. After lunch today I’ll have the maid draw you a bath and I’ll have my masseuse come see you.”

“W-why?” You scrunch your face up

“Because you need it don’t you. You slept on the bathroom floor all night.” He smiles

“Thank you.” You mumble, shyly looking away

“You truly look gorgeous this morning. I should have one of the maids curl your hair before you change for dinner this evening.”

“You want me to change again?”

“Of course my dear. One should always look as presentable as possible when they have an evening meal with guests.”

“I normally only do it for special events.” You speak up

“And dinner with the president isn’t special?” He smirks, turning the page again.

You watch him as an uncomfortable silence washes into the room. Then a few avoxes walk into the room with silver trays. Coriolanus pays them no mind, but is interested in what they contain under the stainless steel cloche. They first lay out the silverware, then lift it and serve the plates. It’s a perfectly made French omelette , topped off with chives and a small pad of butter that is still melting, with crumbled crispy potatoes sprinkled over the whole thing. Next to it sits a small slice of toast with a raspberry jam. They then sat down a tea kettle, two silver teacups and served them steaming black tea. Lastly, they leave a pitcher of orange juice and two short glasses. They quietly exit the room and Coriolanus stirs his tea before sipping it.

You look down at your plate then glance up at him. He folds the paper up, making sure the edges are crisp and clean. He notices you watching him and gives a devilish half smile.

“You can start eating if you want.”

You nod and take a bite. Immediately you can taste how smooth and creamy it is. You can taste the ingredients piped inside, an herbed goat cheese and it melts in your mouth. You savor the taste, loving the texture of the egg as it dances with the cheese. Coriolanus takes it upon himself to pour you some juice and you have a strange urge to apologize. You set down your fork and try to say sorry but he cuts you off.

“It’s ok. I don’t mind my dear, here.” He utters

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Good girl.” He whispers as you take the glass to your lips.

“So what’s after breakfast?”

“I have a meeting with the Game Makers, a more formal welcome to the new additions than a fancy gala, and you’ll be modeling those dresses I was telling you about.”

“I thought that was just a lie you told my family.”

“Not entirely. You are a model by trade after all, no?”

“I am”

“Well, we need models for this year’s games to advertise the upcoming looks and you’re a model. Seems pretty straightforward no?”

“So you just want me to play dress up for you all day then?” You question, raising an eyebrow

He gives you a stern look and cocks his head. He scoffs.

“Don’t have such an attitude, my dear. It’s not fitting for a First Lady.”

You sit wordless for a moment, scared but also pissed. Fuck him. Fuck this First Lady shit. You desperately wanted to tell him off, but you utter a small apology.

“Good. It won’t even take up your entire day, I made sure of that. After my meeting, I expect you to join me for lunch. I think you’ll like it.”

“Why is that?”

“I asked to have it be served to us in the garden. I thought I’d show you around after.”

“Around the garden?”

“Yes.” He states simply “Are you enjoying your omelette?” He asks, taking a bite of his own.

“It’s delicious. Everything you’ve served me has been amazing.” You state truthfully

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiles, then he holds out his hand. You look at it and he turns his palm over. You hesitantly place just your fingertips on top of his hand. He grasps it and pulls it forward, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. He rubs them gently, smiling at you.

“You’re so beautiful. I hope to make you mine.”

“Why do you think I will please you?”

“Hmm, I bet you don’t remember meeting me at the Gala?”

“N-no?”

He smiles wider, scanning your face to see if you remember anything at all from that night.

Coriolanus goes on to explain how he first saw you and how he approached you, asking you to join his private table. You of course said yes, so he took you by the hand and led you to his group. You sat with him, he gave you lots of wine, and eventually he sent you “home”, allegedly kissing your cheek as he got you into the car, and sent you off to his house. At some point he had indeed drugged your drink and you woke up in the palace instead. You hadn’t woken up the next day, but instead spent two days asleep, the power of the drugs had lured you into a deep sleep, and now you’re having breakfast with him.

“I have your dress from that night by the way. It looked stunning on your body. Red is a great color on you.”

“Thank you”

“Perhaps I’ll have you wear it tonight, to dinner. What do you think, my lovely?”

“I would like to have my dress back.”

“Of course. Like I said, whatever I give you is yours.”

“Well the dress was already mine.” You snicker

You immediately freeze, realizing your tongue may have gotten the best if you, but he merely reciprocates your actions.

“You can’t help but to be such a clever girl hmm?” He kisses your knuckles again

“If you say so. You didn’t answer my question though. Why do you think I’ll please you?”

“Because you were pleasant that night. Funny, charming, easy to be around. My team believes I’ve become too wild and rambunctious. They say I need to settle down and to an extent, I agree. I can’t help but want to enjoy my wealth these days. While I’m still young I don't care, if you understand me?”

You nod along and he continues.

“I figure, most people show who they really are when they meet me. Whether it’s to impress me or win over my favor, I can always see a person’s true intentions. Through whatever facade they come with, I can see their truth.”

“And did you see me then? What was my front?”

“Nothing. You had nothing to hide.” He leans forward “Which is why I find you so special.” He whispers

He rubs your hand, giving your knuckles one last kiss before letting your hand go. You pull it back quickly and relax it on your lap. Then a small ding ding ding cries out from his pocket. He digs around and retrieves his pocket watch. He raises his eyebrows.

“Ah, I have to go my dear!” He claims as he returns the watch back into his jacket. He stands up and moves to stand behind your chair. He places his hands on your shoulders and massages them.

“I’ll see you for lunch.” He bends down to kiss your cheek “and then for dinner.” He kisses you again “be good today my sweets, I have something for you later if you behave. Will you be ok to dine alone for the rest of breakfast?”

You nod and he tilts your face to look at his. With the smallest touch of his forefinger, he lifts your chin so you look at him fully. Coriolanus gives you a curious frown and you know what he wants.

“Yes, President Snow, I’ll be ok to dine alone.”

“Good girl, the maid will escort you to get ready when you’re done, but take your time.”

He smirks, giving your cheek one last kiss. He squeezes your shoulders, sighs, smirks again to himself, and walks away.

You feel as if you can finally breathe, letting out an immense sigh of relief as you hear the door close. You look down at your food and don’t feel like you can realistically finish it. You stand up and knock on the door. The maid opens it and escorts you out. She takes you through the palace, not taking you back to your room.

“Where are we going?” You inquire

“The lounge, that’s where the photo shoot is happening.”

You follow her, still noting the layout of the palace as you walk around. You finally reach a set of tall double doors and the maid opens it, escorting you inside. The room is similar to his office, same crème walls, accented with gold, red Chesterfield lounge chairs

“Ah wonderful!” A man cries out as you enter the room. He’s holding a camera in one hand the other setting up the tripod stand for it to sit on. “Come in dear!” He states enthusiastically. You look around the room and notice several other people getting things together.

“H-hi” you quiver

“The President said you’re a model by trade?”

“I am”

“Splendid! Then I’ll have you change into that first dress on the rack and will move our way down.”

He points to a rack of dress and a room divider in the corner and you nod. You walk over to it and examine the dresses. It seems like they are for District 12, given they are all gray and black. Coal. Of course Snow would want the contestants to dress like this. Parade them around a bit as the very goods that are used to fuel the capital. Almost as a double reminder of who they serve. You look at the first dress. It’s a corset style top with a short length skirt. Around the bottom was a thin layer of black tulle. You take it and step behind the divider to change. You step out and a woman approaches you.

“Beautiful! Let’s fix up your hair and makeup.” She smiles, escorting you over to a vanity.

After about an hour of hair weaving and being all done up like a doll, she shows you a mirror. She’s weaved your hair into several small braids, which she then weaved into a big, ponytail, that sits directly in the top of your head. Your makeup is a clean smoky eye, and you honestly look sexy.

“Ok so it’s very simple just posing with the chairs and other parts of the room.” She explains and walks back over to the camera man.

“Ok my dear let’s have you lay out here. Back on the seat, and kick your feet up, yes, that's it lovely.” He instructs, setting up the camera to be in frame. “Up a bit more, your left leg, that's beautiful.”

You look into the camera, feeling completely comfortable for the first time since being here. This is your element. This is what you’re good at. It’s not all about looking pretty, it’s about selling the look to the audience, the viewer, the buyer and most importantly the person who wears it. You pose in a few more positions on the couch and lose yourself in the fun. That’s another part of this job you’ve liked. The fun. The freedom and the ability to dress up, almost become a different person. It transforms you.

“Beautiful. Ok let’s do a few more in the next dress. Ok dear?”

“Sounds good.”

The next dress you change into is a deep v, showing off the curves and valley of your breasts, stopping just above your stomach. It’s like a huge gemstone, every part of it beaded and bedazzled. It fits perfectly, just how the other one fits and you walk out from behind the divider.

“Oh that’s beautiful! The President sure does have good taste.”

“President Snow picked these out?”

“Of course. He does every year.” The photographer smiles, beckoning you to him. You pose in front of the couch some more, and now find that you feel slightly uncomfortable again. You can’t help but feel Snow’s eyes on you again. Perhaps he’s watching you in this room too. You try not to think of it as you stare into the camera lens, but it only makes you feel more watched.

“Hey dear? You ok?” The cameraman questions, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You smile “Just wondering about the other models. Am I going to be shooting with them?” You inquire, seeing if maybe you can talk to one and ask for help.

Maybe someone could get a message out without Snow knowing

You think.

“Not today, but tomorrow we will do all 12, right now we are just getting individuals for each district.”

“Where are the other girls?” You inquire, trying to sound casual

“District Two!”

You nod and the cameraman continues, encouraging you as you pose for him. So you have more modeling tomorrow. You wonder when he was going to tell you and that’s the last thought you have of him during the session. A few more dresses later and your stomach starts to growl. You hold it instinctively, wincing in pain.

“A few more shots and we’ll break for lunch beautiful. That’s it, look here, a little more to the left…a little more, yes perfect!” The camera flashes rapidly. “Ok team! Let’s break for lunch, we’ll come back in an hour and a half and finish up.”

The stylist starts to pack up and the cameraman starts to disassemble his tripod. One of the stylists helps you with your hair and wipes off your makeup.

“We’ll do a new style after lunch, ok dear?” You nod somberly, knowing that lunch for you means lunch with him. As you wipe the rest of your makeup off, the maid walks in with another change of clothes.

“Another outfit?” You examine it and she nods wordlessly. It’s a white dress, knee length, with slightly puffy sleeves. On top is a white hair bow and a pair of white, strapped sandals. You sigh and take it from her. By the time you change, it’s just you and the maid. You also take down your hair, it falls out, now slightly curled from being woven up. She walks you out and around the back of the palace. You eventually arrive at a big sliding glass door that opens into the garden and you can see him in the distance.

Coriolanus is admiring one of his many white rose bushes. He picks one and twirls it in his fingers. You approach him, your footsteps quiet and he doesn’t hear you at first. You step on a leaf, causing him to look up. He smiles, oh so happy to see you.

“Hello my dear.” He greets you stepping towards you.

You stop in front of him and he reaches out his hand to feel your hair. He plays with in between his thumb and forefinger. He takes in your scent, smiling greedily.

“Come darling. I know you must be hungry. Why didn’t you finish your breakfast?” He asks sweetly

Of course he knows. He must have his people keeping track of your meals, the amount you’re eating.

“Was it not good?” He follows up when you don’t answer immediately

“No, sir. It was fine, it’s just that my appetite hasn't been the same since I got here.”

“My darling, you should have told me what you wanted. I want you to be cared for well since you’re being so good for me”

“I-I am hungry though. W-what’s for lunch” you stutter

“You’ll see. I think you’ll like it again.”

You walk with him through the garden and he hands you the rose he was playing with.

“For you.”

“Thank you President Snow.” You nod, taking the steam in your hand

“You’re most welcome my sweets” he smiles, his charming lips curling up almost sinisterly.

You walk a bit more, admiring the other flowers in the garden, and how green everything is. He takes you a bit further until you pass the greenhouse. Around on the other side is a neat table for two looking out into the fountains and waterways. It’s set up with silverware sets and empty wine glasses. In the center is a cylindrical wine cooler and a bottle sitting in it. You’re slightly taken aback at the slight and want to hate how beautifully romantic it is because you’re here with Snow and not someone that you actually love. That you’d actually want to be on a date with. You sigh to yourself, but he notices.

“What’s wrong my angel. Here come sit.” He pats the white iron garden chair and you reluctantly follow his orders.

“Would you like some white wine?” He asks

“Yes please. Thank you, President Snow.” You nod, taking a seat. He sits across from you and uncorks the bottle. He pours you a fair amount and then himself.

“I just recently started having a drink with lunch. It’s nice to go into the rest of the afternoon feeling less tense. And I can still get everything done.” It works out well.”

You nod and look around. It’s hard not to feel somewhat at peace in such a beautiful environment. You avoid his gaze, even though he’s eyeing you like his prey. You glance at him and take a nervous drink of your wine.

“How was your meeting?” You quip up

Coriolanus perks up at the question, his smile widening.

“I appreciate you asking my dear. So thoughtful.” He pauses, sipping his wine. “It was honestly mundane, but productive nonetheless. I’m excited for you to see this year’s upcoming games. We really want to do something new for the 20th Anniversary. “

“Sounds exciting” you lie

“My dear, do you not enjoy the games?”

“I-I never said that…”

“You didn’t need to.” He pauses again, leaning forward. “Tell me if someone you trusted, perhaps even someone you loved, betrayed you, tried to kill you, starve you out, all because they wanted what they couldn’t provide for themselves. Just to take from you, would you simply forgive them…”

“It would be hard, I don’t think I would though…”

“Exactly! Even those we hold close to us can soon turn into a predator and us, the prey. We must never forget our human nature calls for us to given into our animalistic instincts in the most desperate of times. And that’s the biggest game out of them all. Pretending to uphold civility, pretending that we don’t truly want to devour each other for power.” He gives you a devious look, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“And wanting to devour each other in other ways…”

You nervously look away, out onto the garden. He reaches across the table and tilts your chin to him.

“Look at me beautiful. Don’t be shy with me. Tell me, do you think I’m wrong?”

“No sir, you're not wrong President Snow”

“Good girl.” He whispers

He holds for face and moments later, a few avoxes enter. They once again wheel out a cart similar to the one at lunch, serving up the plates. They take the covers off and reveal what appears to be a tomato soup and a grilled cheese with bacon. It seems unusual at first and you notice how he watches your expression.

“Basil tomato soup, and grilled cheese with bacon, Gouda, white cheddar and apple slices. I think you’ll find it a unique twist on a classic.”

“It smells and looks delicious.”

“Of course. Dig in my dear.” He scoots in, taking his sandwich and biting into it. You pick up your own as well, dunking it in the soup. As soon as the flavor hits your mouth, they storm off into a wonderful dance. You’re not sure how it’s possible, but every meal is as amazing as the last. You sip on your wine to get it down and it pairs perfectly with the taste.

“Good?” He raises an eyebrow

You nod and he gives you a stern look.

“Yes, President Snow.”

“I knew you’d like it. After this you’ll finish up the photo shoot, then I’ll have the maid draw you a bath and curl your hair. I want you absolutely perfect for dinner. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir, I understand” you nod

“Excellent! So tell me how’s the shoot going?”

“Good. It’s nice to feel comfortable here. Modeling has always made me feel good about myself.”

“Does it? Tell me more.”

You're stunned. Like a deer in headlights, you feel frozen by the question. You pause for a moment and you watch as he waits patiently for your response.

“Well I guess when I was a teenager people would tell me how beautiful I was, but I had a hard time believing it and then one day a friend of mine wanted me to try on some clothes and take pictures in it and I just felt natural, I finally felt beautiful.”

Coriolanus reaches for your hand and you put it in his. He kisses your knuckles gently.

“Who ever said you’re not beautiful?” He says, a puzzled look spreading on his face

“N-no one.”

“Then why would you think that you’re not beautiful?”

You pause for a moment and look down again. He squeezes your hand, his face drooping and you gaze into his eyes. They are so mesmerizing. A deep ocean blue, and they compel you to speak freely from your heart. You stutter at first then relax once more under the feeling of his lips meeting your hand once more.

“My mother, she was very superficial when it came to physical appearance. I always felt like I had to please her by looking nice.“ you confess

Coriolanus squeezes your hand even more tight and looks down at his lap. He contains his newfound anger at your mother and then looks back up with a soft smile.

“You are truly beautiful my dear. As long as you’re in my care, I’ll make sure you always feel beautiful and never think that way again. Okay?”

“Yes, Mr. President “

“Good girl.” He kisses your knuckles one last time

After lunch, he sends you off to model the rest of the dresses and you ponder his words. You think about his face, the way he looked as if he might fall apart by simply hearing about your insecurities. How he wants to fix them and cast them away from your mind. Forever. And the way he has arranged your time here. The modeling, the photoshoots, as if he knew that’s when you felt most beautiful. You want to hate it, but there is a part of you that feels cared for. Wanted. Needed. In a way you haven’t before.

꧁🝮꧂

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mide404 · 3 days ago

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My sister says: Let me tell the world about the heat of the tent… 💔

The heat that melted everything: the color of our skin, our emotions, our dreams, the colors of our clothes, the stacks of deodorant cans, the lipstick and eyeliner pencils I’ve kept for nine months without using—just to remind myself that I am still a woman.

We toss and turn in the tent from one corner to another, like schnitzel pieces frying in hot oil. Sweat covers our features until we taste its salt, burning our eyes, destroying our hair that once enjoyed oil baths and healthy routines, exhausting the pores of our skin that were once used to care and pampering.

In the tent, everything is unbearably hot: the mattress, the pillow, the blanket, the water container, the cups, the plates, the sand, the towel, the only chair. Even the drinking water, which is supposed to cool us down, is so hot you can see bubbles rising from the lone stainless steel cup standing on the tent floor.

In the heat of the tent, your body becomes a fingerprint scanner for ants, mosquitoes, lice, fleas, flies, heat rash, and other things.In the heat of the tent, you share space with lizards, rats, scorpions, and insects you’ve never seen before.In the heat of the tent, no one can keep their true nature intact: the calm are no longer calm, the dreamers stop dreaming, the obedient grow defiant, and it’s rare to find someone who maintains their understanding of others as before.

In the heat of the tent, headaches are constant, blood pressure fluctuates, skin rashes appear, kidney problems develop, bones ache, bodies wither, and a general fatigue overwhelms you. There’s a suppressed cry every time you feel suffocated by your own sweat.

I am Mahmoud Saleh. I plead with you to look upon my torn and displaced family with mercy and give them the chance to continue their lives in peace. I stand here before these compassionate hearts, full of hope that you will help what remains of my family and provide them with a better life, one where they can live safely and peacefully.

@officialspec @naggingatlas

@pcktknife @lana-baumgartner @xxlunawarriorxx

@solarpunkwitchcraft @zivazivc

@dearmouse @sotogalmo @85-rend @the-meme-monarch @peachdeluxe

@classychassiss @northern-passage

@sillysymbol

@dailyquests @tiredguyswag

@transguyhawkeye @ender-slime @miss-galaxy-turtle @see-arcane @spitblaze

@ballwizard @prisonhannibal @beserkerjewel @cultofthorns @davepeta

@cuntylouis @wander-bunnies @sagescider @jinsouled @gotinterest

@longseasons @boffix @vaugarde @moonscape @bamsara

@busket @fox-guardian @cherryflavoredbutch @stardustfanfare @infernal-heart

#save 🍉#palestine #all eyes on rafah #gaza #palestine 🍉

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ariseur · 6 months ago

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could i request a afectionate Cloud x shy Touch starved reader? Cloud was in many Mission and he came Back that night and reader woke Up with him in bed in the morning. And they then cuddles and kiss a Lot so basically Lots of fluff. I would be very glad <3

your kissed sheets 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

i’m still mad at wingstop for giving me carbonated water when i asked for sprite. like they literally charged me for a sprite when all i got was sparkling water, no syrup in it at all 😭😭

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of reader being lonely, mentions of eating or not being able to eat ( pasta if it’s relevant ), intended lowercase, lmk if i missed something!! 💕

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1121 words, ~8400 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

another tick of the imaginary clock in your head and you huffed once again, your fingers drumming on the wooden table. your eyes stayed glued to the steam rising into the air while the soft aroma of buttered noodles wafted in the air. your lips twitched into a small pout. from the window behind you, the dark night sky was accompanied by the moon as the almost blue light shone through the glass panes— therefore you knew that it was too late for cloud not to be home yet.

letting out another sigh, you let the defeated breath escape your lips whilst you mindlessly twirled the noodles around the metal fork. you couldn’t even bring yourself to take a bite anymore. looking back down at your plate, there remained no evidence of the food even being eaten, the bundle of pasta clumped together and now losing its heat as you had been sitting there for so long. usually, you’d sit beside cloud as you both ate dinner— and it wasn’t like he made so much of a difference, he usually just listened to you talk about your day while he slipped some responsive comments just as a way of letting you know he was listening. cloud always listened to you, even if he was silent.

your bottom lip stuck itself out with your pout as you decided you couldn’t even eat anymore. scooting the dining chair back, you couldn’t even cringe at the sound of the wooden legs screeching as they scraped against the hard floor. you stood upright and walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a plastic container and shutting the lid on it once you had emptied the remaining contents of your plate. you let yourself close your eyes with your head tilted back as you inhaled through your nose. you let the air fill you lungs until you couldn’t anymore. if cloud saw you now, he’d probably say something like, “what’re you sulking for?”, and that part made a small chuckle leave your lips. it was like you could hear his voice echo through your mind, his monotonous voice going ever so slightly softer when he was talking to you rather than when he was talking to wedge or barret— tifa and aerith never failed to tease you about it whenever you’d act confused when they brought it up.

grabbing the plate, you savored the warmth of the tupperware before opening the fridge and being hit with the bright fluorescent light of it. you placed the leftovers there before closing the fridge and being met face to face with the photos pinned on the stainless steel with magnets. it was littered with small polaroids of you annoying cloud. you smiled as you let your fingers graze the old pictures; some with cloud holding his hand up to the camera as he’s squinting from the flash, others where he’s straight out of the shower with his hair dripping and flat. then your eyes drift over to a newer one, a one with lots of colors. eyes narrowing at it until you realized it was you in the photo, candid as you looked up at the greenery of the botanical garden you had begged cloud to go to. you had a flower tucked behind your ear and cloud’s hand in your lap. he didn’t give himself much slack, he had always told you how he wasn’t much a photographer— yet every photo you’ve seen him take came out truly beautiful, even if you hadn’t been paying attention at all.

deciding you couldn’t handle anymore moping for the night, you decided to head to bed, each step feeling agonizing. you unceremoniously let yourself plop down on the bed as you went face first into the soft pillows, letting out a small groan in exasperation. your head turned to the side for some air, your eyes fixated on the curtains on your window nearby while the moonlight shone through it, the particles of the dust that you’ve been meaning to clean for days floating into the air into the rectangular shaped light.

you let out a sharp exhale through your teeth, before closing your eyes. another night without cloud in a cold bed, how fun. what’s one more night, though? you just kept telling yourself he was fine. cloud was tough, he was an ex-SOLDIER, after all— he could handle himself. you would feel his embrace soon enough. that’s all you could think of whilst you drifted off to sleep, the moonlight becoming darker and darker with your eyelids closing more and more.

and your thoughts couldn’t have manifested themself better, you thought, as your hand managed to snake around something warm around your midriff. your fingers twitched around the squishy feeling before you felt short, thin strands of hair. your eyes fluttered open before they drifted down to your abdomen, seeing an arm that you recognized the grip of all too well. your let your thumb rub across the protruding, linear muscles in cloud’s hand.

your head turned to the side and in your peripheral, you see the spiked chunks of cloud’s hair and his milky skin in your sideview. letting out a huff, your eyebrows furrowed while you turned back and faced forward, body almost shrugging his touch away. your vision could barely focus in front of you with how dark it was, but at least it wasn’t so cold anymore. you wouldn’t admit it now, especially as you were a little upset at him, but you were relieved he had come home in one piece.

you let out another tense sigh, before cloud mumbled against the nape of your neck, “i know.” your frown deepened as his voice sounded tired, you’ve never heard him sound so gentle— even when he’s talking to you.

“i’ve been away for a while, huh?” he asked, you could feel his lashes blink against you as they tickled your neck. you nodded slowly. you’ve been away too long, you thought. he exhaled deeply himself, his grip loosening a bit before you grabbed his arm and pressing it further against your middle. you let your hand run against his wrist, letting it dance along his skin as you swiped over his arm hair.

cloud’s eyes narrowed at the feeling before letting them close against you. if he couldn’t do anything to change your mind tonight, he’d just have to try harder in the morning.

“i’ve missed you.” you whispered.

he hummed softly, the gravel in his voice becoming thicker with the sleepier he got.

“you, too.” he said. that was the closest cloud’s gotten to saying i love you so far, but it’s alright. you didn’t mind— you’d give him all the time he needed.

𐙚 taglist ; @alieeelinn

𐙚 requests are closed — june ninth, 2024

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sugarydolli · 9 months ago

Text

Pudding.

Delicate, soft, and spongy in all its nature, made from the simplest of ingredients consisting of milk, sugar, and eggs.

Strangely, Katsuki couldn't make pudding.

He was actually rather embarrassed about the fact; huge blow to his ego considering how easy it is to make. Either he burned it or it fell apart as soon as he flipped the mold over, he just couldn't get this right.

The instructions were simple; pour sugar into a dry stainless steel saucepan and cook the sugar over medium heat—stirring occasionally for five minutes; carmel. the smell that was radiating off him after asking you to meet him after class.

Heat the milk and heavy cream in a saucepan, adding whisked milk and sugar to the mixing once hot, adding a dash of vanilla and whisking together; custard. vanilla wafting into his nose just as strong as your perfume oil, only missing that signature powdery note.

Divide both the caramel and custard into molds�� place the molds into an oven-safe container and add hot water—bake in the oven for thirty minutes then let cool; wait. the dreaded waiting game Katsuki loathed, unsure if his hard work was worth it, if it even mattered? Would the mold hold up right? Did he bake it long enough? Was he not meant for pudding? Was he meant for you?

His heart pounded fiercely against his chest, blood rushing to his ears depleting all sound, questions fired off so quickly in his head, he was spinning. Hands shaking slightly as he gently tilted over the mold, giving a gentle but firm pat to the top. Until a plop hit the plate underneath.

୨୧

"'suki—"

A meek voice interrupted his train of thought, idly reaching for his backpack and pulling out a pink small container, there revealed the perfectly crafted soft treat.

"You know, It's a shame you couldn't even make such a simple recipe by yourself-"

But he's cut off by the various string of praises that fall out your lips, face buried into his neck, arms wrapped firmly around his neck as a small smile found its way on his face.

Katsuki was meant for pudding.

୨୧

bye-bye ♡(>ᴗ•)/☆*:.｡

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hunnysnoops · 5 months ago

Text

₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter Three: Get Free

Kenny McCormick x Reader

Sometimes it feels like I've got a war in my mind. I wanna get off, but I keep riding the ride. I never really noticed that I had to decide to play someone's game or live my own life

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: A blizzard takes the town of South Park by surprise

Warnings: I dunno

MASTERLIST

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stand at the stainless steel counter, your fingers deftly slicing through a plump tomato. Your eyes are focused intently on the task at hand, a slight furrow of concentration etched between your brows. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow over the food studies classroom, bouncing off the polished surfaces and reflecting in the glass-fronted cabinets filled with an array of kitchen tools.

Around you, the din of your classmates' chatter fills the air. Your group- three obscenely loud boys- are at the counter's far end, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls. They're supposed to be helping you prepare the day's assignment: a simple Caprese salad followed by a homemade pasta dish. Instead, they're tossing flour at each other, their white aprons now streaked with powdery handprints and taking videos of every second of it.

"Hey, how's it going over there?" one of them, Douglas, calls out between bouts of laughter. He's the ringleader, tall and athletic, his messy brunette hair falling into his eyes. He flashes you a grin, one that is equal parts charm and mischief.

Spencer had been the one to coerce you into the group though you didn't have much choice as everyone began to split into partners and you were left in the dust, watching everyone happily rush over to their friends. You were stuck in a group with your ex-boyfriend and his two best friends until the semester ended.

You glance up briefly, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. You give him a little thumbs up and quickly avert your gaze, your cheeks tinged with a faint heat. Interacting with them always leaves you feeling exposed, as if your quiet nature is something to be mocked or dismissed.

"Sweet," Douglas says, already turning back to his friends, who are now cackling while they filmed TikToks with the same repetitive audio.

You sigh inwardly, your grip tightening on the knife handle. It's not that you mind cooking—far from it. You love the precision and creativity it demands, the way ingredients can transform into something beautiful and delicious. But it bothers you how easily your group takes advantage of your introverted nature, assuming you will handle all the work while they waste time. Even though they assumed right.

Your movements are fluid and practiced as you arrange the tomato slices on a plate, layering them with basil leaves and mozzarella. You drizzle olive oil over the top, your eyes scanning the recipe card to ensure you haven't missed a step. The boys' laughter grows louder, a grating background noise that you try to block out.

Next is the pasta. You move to the stove, where a pot of water is already boiling. Carefully, you add a pinch of salt before dropping in the fresh pasta you had kneaded and rolled out earlier, alone, while the boys had debated over an internet phenomenon you didn't quite understand. The dough had been soft and pliant under your hands, a therapeutic contrast to the chaos around you.

There's unspoken tension that rests between you and Spencer, you hated it; the way he chatted mindlessly to his friends about the new girl he was talking to while sitting directly across from you. Though had he not invited you into his group, you wouldn't have one at all. You try not to think about the times you cooked together, laughing and working as a team. Now, he's just another distraction, his carefree laughter blending with the others as if nothing has changed.

As the pasta cooks, you prepare the sauce, your mind drifting to thoughts of how different this class could be if your group were more cooperative. You imagine them working together, each person contributing their strengths. Maybe Spencer could handle the chopping, his energy focused on something productive. The other two, Douglas and Daniel, could assist with the stirring and plating. You could share a sense of accomplishment at the end, sitting down to enjoy the meal you had all created. But most of all, you think of how different it would be if Spencer was still the person you could rely on.

But reality is far less idyllic. When the timer beeps, you drain the pasta and mix it with the creamy tomato sauce you just finished. The rich aroma wafts up, momentarily silencing the chatter behind you. You plate the dish with care, wiping the edges of the plates clean and adding a sprinkle of fresh parsley for presentation points.

You bring a plate and a grading sheet to the front for your teacher, quickly jotting down the names of everyone in your group and retreating back to your kitchen.

The boys amble over, still laughing and shoving each other, barely glancing at the beautifully prepared meal in front of them. "Looks good," Daniel says offhandedly, reaching for a fork. You watch as they dig in, their appreciation for your efforts surface-level at best.

As they eat, you clean up the kitchen area, washing the cutting board and wiping down the counters. The boys are already talking about their plans for the weekend, seemingly oblivious to the time and effort you put into the meal.

You stand at the sink, running a cloth through the soapy water and scrubbing until the debris is cleared from each dish.

Suddenly, a shriek pierces the air, breaking through the usual clamour. You look up to see Douglas staring at the floor with wide eyes. "Fuck!" he exclaims, clearly startled at the tiny creature making its way across the tile.

Spencer huffs a laugh, "Dude, you're such a pussy."

Daniel immediately looks under the table, moving his feet around to try and crush the skittering arachnid. You liked food studies for the class itself, not the people that came with it. Every day felt like you were babysitting three overgrown children and feeding them when they cried.

"Stop that," You move quickly, intercepting Daniel's sneaker as he's about to squash it "How would you like it if someone 3000 times your size tried to kill you?"

Carefully, you approach the spider, your movements slow and deliberate. The spider is small, its delicate legs moving hesitantly over the cold tile. You kneel down, feeling the cool, hard floor against your knees. Your hands, still warm from working through the dirty dishes, are cupped gently around the tiny creature. The spider pauses, sensing the change in temperature, and then crawls onto your palm. You can feel its tiny legs tickling your skin, but you remain steady, lifting it carefully.

You stand up, cradling the spider in your hands as if it were the most precious thing. Without a word, you head towards the door, feeling their eyes on your back. "One sec," you say over your shoulder, your voice calm and measured.

Pushing open the heavy classroom door with your shoulder, you step into the hallway. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz softly, casting a stark glow on the linoleum floors. Each step you take echoes through the empty corridor, the sound bouncing off the lockers that line the walls. You walk briskly but carefully, mindful of the fragile life cradled in your hands.

The school feels different in this moment- quieter, almost serene. You pass by classrooms where students are absorbed in their lessons, their voices a low murmur behind closed doors. The air is cool, a faint draft seeping in from the main entrance at the end of the hall.

Near the exit, Kenny stands by his locker, shuffling through it with furrowed eyebrows, seemingly trying to find something. He's wearing a white long sleeve with a dark T-shirt over top. Kenny casts a quick glance in your direction then realizes it's you and turns his head completely, a smile forming on his face "Hey, what's up?"

You press your lips together, straight-faced. Your apron was still on and held the remnants from the meal you prepared moments before. Whenever you passed him in the halls or at the rink, he never brought up that god-forsaken dinner with your step-dad and though you didn't thank him directly, you were grateful.

"Whatcha got there?" He asks "You smuggling drugs?"

You hold up your cupped hands, revealing the small spider inside. Kenny's eyes flicker to the spider, then back to you, his smile growing wider. Without breaking your stride, you push open the heavy doors, stepping into the crisp winter air, Kenny follows you in tow, abandoning his locker.

"Can I name it?" He asks to which you nod. "Is it a guy or a gal? I guess you can't really tell... how about Ainsley? Yeah? That seems gender neutral."

The world outside is blanketed in snow. The cold bites at your cheeks, making them sting. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, their delicate patterns glistening as they catch the light. You walk carefully, mindful of your steps, until you reach a spot where the snow is undisturbed. The ground crunches softly underfoot, the fresh snow giving way to your weight.

Your eyes land on a little alcove in the brick exterior where the snow seems less harsh. Standing in the little nook, Kenny close behind, you open your hands and watch the spider crawl out and wiggle its way up the wall "Bye, Ainsley."

Turning slightly, you see Kenny standing there, his breath forming small clouds in the frosty air. "So what are you doing later?"

"Skating."

"Cool," He mutters "I could've guessed that."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Even with your food studies group driving you up the wall, you could unwind at the rink though today you had the displeasure of not even putting on your skates thanks to off-ice training. The training center is bustling with activity, but you and Craig are in your own world, focused on the rigorous off-ice session Katya has planned. Sweat beads on your forehead as you complete another set of balance drills, your muscles burning from the effort. The cold air of the rink feels distant, replaced by the warmth generated from your exertion.

"Keep it up," Katya calls out, her voice steady and encouraging. "Remember, core tight, movements controlled."

You nod, concentrating on maintaining your balance on the wobbleboard. Across from you, Craig mirrors your efforts, his face set in determined focus.

Just as you're transitioning to the resistance band exercises, your phone buzzes in your bag. You ignore it at first, but it buzzes again, more insistently. Then again and again. Katya notices and gestures for you to check it. "Go ahead, be quick."

You nod, stepping off the balance board and grabbing your phone from your bag. The screen lights up with a call from your mom. A sense of unease washes over you—she usually doesn't call during practice.

"Hello?"

"Baby, are you okay?" your mom's voice is laced with concern. "You haven't been answering my messages, are you okay? Are you safe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you guys still have power?"

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows as you look at Katya who seems equally confused.

"Baby, the blizzard, do you have heat? Are you stuck inside?"

Your heart skips a beat "Hang on," You move the phone away from your ear and quickly make your way to the main entrance, Craig and Katya following close behind. Your heart skips a beat. You glance towards the windows of the training center, noticing the thick curtain of snow outside that you hadn't fully registered before. As you approach the doors, a sense of dread fills you. You push against the heavy glass door, but it doesn't budge. The snow has piled up, effectively blocking the exit.

There's shuffling on the other end of the line and you hear Todd's loud voice boom through "WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T PANIC," The volume of his words was ironically not helping to soothe you.

Katya, ever calm and composed, takes charge. "Let's not panic. There should be emergency protocols for situations like this. I'll call the facility manager."

"YOU ARE GOING TO BE JUST FINE, KIDDO," Todd's trembling voice sounds out on the other end, it eventually breaks down into quiet sobs.

You nod, but the knot in your stomach tightens. "I can't get out," You mutter into your phone, voice distant.

"Oh, baby," Your mom says, her voice filled with fear. "Are you safe? Is there anyone with you?"

Both your mom and Todd began to talk over each other, you couldn't make out what they were saying, it was all too loud and incoherent for your ears. Every time you tried to get a word in, they would speak again and cut you off.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I gotta go. Love you," You said before abruptly hanging up and shoving your phone into your pocket, dragging your hands down your face. While you loved your mom, you weren't sure you could stand to listen to Todd in the background cry and babble about a situation you would definitely survive.

As you stand by the door, trying to process the reality of being snowed in, the muffled sounds of the hockey team filter through the hallway. Their practice must have just ended, and within moments, they burst into the corridor, their voices loud and energetic, a stark contrast to your stifled nature.

The team is a whirlwind of motion and noise, their camaraderie evident in their playful shoves and shared laughter. They notice the snow blocking the door and, for a moment, pause to take in the scene. One of the players, Mark, lets out a low whistle. "Well, would you look at that?"

"Are we snowed in?" Stan asks, eyebrows furrowing as he takes off his helmet.

Another player, Liam, chuckles and shakes his head. "Guess we're having a sleepover at the rink tonight, boys!"

There's a ripple of laughter and a few mock groans, but overall, the team seems to take the situation in stride. Some of them reached for their bags to call their parents or text their friends about the situation, but the majority seemed comfortable with the situation aside from the few who had made plans.

To you, this was hell on earth.

This almost felt like some kind of ethereal punishment for a deadly sin you weren't aware you committed. Amidst the light-hearted jokes, you notice Craig's boyfriend, Tweek, reacting differently. His expression is tense, eyes wide with concern. He pushes through the group, his anxiety palpable. "We need to get out of here!" he exclaims, his voice rising above the din.

"Tweek, it's okay," Craig tries to reassure him, stepping forward. "We'll figure it out. We're safe inside."

But Tweek is already at the door, pushing against it with all his might. "No, we can't just stay here! We have to get out!" His efforts are frantic, the panic in his movements echoing fear.

The other hockey players watch, a mix of amusement and concern on their faces. "Calm down, Tweek," one of them says with a laugh. "We're fine. It's just a little snow."

But Tweek isn't listening. He keeps shoving at the door, his panic growing with each failed attempt. You can see the strain in his muscles, the desperation in his eyes. Craig moves to his side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Tweek, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

Tweek's panic only intensifies. He raises his helmet high above his head and smashes it against the door with a loud, resounding crash. The noise reverberates through the hallway, each impact like a hammer blow to your nerves. "We have to get out!" Tweek screams, his voice breaking with desperation.

His movements become more erratic, his thrashing more violent. He swings the helmet back, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like he's going to hit you. You instinctively duck, stumbling backward just in time to avoid the blow. The adrenaline surges through your body, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Tweek, stop it!" Craig yells, his voice strained as he tries to grab hold of him. Tweek's thrashing is wild, his kicks and swings dangerous to anyone close by. "You're going to hurt someone!"

Stan and Jason join in, trying to wrestle Tweek's helmet away from him. "Let me go! We have to get out!" Tweek's voice is raw with panic, his eyes wide and unfocused. His kicks are powerful, each one aimed at the door with the intent to break it down.

You manage to slip away, the fear and chaos driving you to find safety. As you back away, you see Craig finally manage to wrap his arms around Tweek, trying to hold him still. "Tweek, please! Calm down!"

Stan and Jason struggle to restrain Tweek's flailing limbs, their faces tense with the effort. It takes all three of them to subdue him, their combined strength barely enough to contain his panic.

The sight is both heartbreaking and terrifying. Tweek's screams are a raw expression of his fear, each one piercing through the air like a bullet to the skull. "We can't stay here! We have to get out!" His words are a desperate mantra, repeated over and over.

You slip away, your steps quick and unsteady as you make your way back to the training room. The hallway feels like it's closing in on you, the echoes of Tweek's screams still ringing in your ears. Your heart is still racing, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The training room is a welcome refuge from the chaos. You push the door open and step inside, closing it behind you with a shaky breath. The familiar sights and smells of the room offer a small measure of comfort, a stark contrast to the panic outside.

You sink onto the bench, trying to steady your trembling hands. The cold air from the rink seeps through the walls, but you hardly notice. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins, your mind replaying the chaotic scene over and over.

Maybe this was hell.

Maybe you have hit your head while training and died, your eternal torture was to be trapped in a rink with the hockey team while they slowly developed cabin fever- well, some faster than others.

You couldn't make sense of how some of the boys on the team had been laughing at Tweak, the whole thing felt shell shocking to you and made you nothing short of uncomfortable. It didn't ease that your phone was still blowing up with notifications from your mom and Todd.

New Message- FIFA Man

FIFA Man: Hello 👏

FIFA Man: What's up 👆 buttercup 🌼

FIFA Man: Have you frozen already? 🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶

FIFA Man: It's oky 😭🙏😱😰😨😓😥

You: I know

FIFA Man: Pls stay calm 😌 and dunt panic 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

You: I'm not

FIFA Man: Awesome 😎sauce 🥫

FIFA Man: Text ur mom 🤰 pls 🙏

FIFA Man: She ❤️ you 🫵

New Message- Mom

Mom: Please be careful

You: Okay

Mom: Stick with Craig

Mom: He can keep an eye on you

You: I can take care of myself

Mom: I know but it's hard to be alone sometimes

You: Okay

Mom: Stay with Craig pls

You: Okay

Mom: Eat something and stay warm

Mom: I love you

You: Okay

You pull your headphones from your bag, the soft clink of the metal pieces a comforting sound. Your hands are still shaking slightly as you untangle the wires and plug them into your phone. The familiar weight of the headphones settles around your ears.

Scrolling through your playlist, you search for a song that will help drown out the echoes of Tweek's panic. Finally, you find it- a familiar piece that you often use for practice. The first notes are a balm to your frayed nerves, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You stand, taking a deep breath and letting the music guide you. The first few steps are tentative, your movements still shaky from the adrenaline. But as the music flows through you, your body begins to remember the amicable routines. The soft thump of your feet on the mat becomes a grounding rhythm.

It wasn't like you had anything better to do. Your only friend was trying to bring his boyfriend down from a panic attack, you didn't have anyone else to text or call, the best you could do was keep practicing.

Your arms rise gracefully, fingers tracing patterns in the air as you begin to dance. The music swells, and you lose yourself in the motion. You spin, the world blurring around you, but here, in this moment, you are in control.

The music's tempo picks up, and so do your movements. You leap, feeling the air rush past you, your muscles stretching and contracting in a familiar, comforting pattern. The focus required for each move pushes the fear and anxiety to the back of your mind. Here, in the dance, there is only the present moment.

Your routine takes you across the room, each movement fluid and precise. The tension in your shoulders begins to ease, your breathing becomes more even.

But as you come out of a turn, something catches your eye. You stop abruptly, your heart skipping a beat. There, just inside the doorway, stands Kenny. He's leaning against the frame, watching you with an expression of quiet admiration. His presence is unexpected, and it startles you out of your reverie.

You pull out your headphones, the sudden silence almost jarring after the music. Your breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and you can feel your cheeks flushing with a mix of exertion and embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" You ask, eyebrows drawn.

He straightens up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just... wow. You're a really good dancer."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a rush of warmth at his compliment. You've always known Kenny to be overly warm and friendly, but this feels different, more personal. You look down, suddenly shy, the confidence of your movements evaporating under his gaze.

"I'll leave, you can go back to dancing-

"I'm fine," You snatch your bag from its spot beneath the bench and move past him, trying to keep the contents inside whilst moving and fumbling to zip it up. He turns and watches you walk away. You can feel his sharp blue eyes on the back of your head though you pretend you can't.

You find yourself needing space again, the earlier panic still a tight knot in your chest. Seeking solitude, you head to the far end of the hallway, where the cold seeps in through the cracks around the door. It's the furthest point from the bustling group of hockey players, offering a much-needed reprieve.

You pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them for warmth. The chill sinks through your clothes and down into your bones, but the solitude is worth it. You slip your headphones back on.

From your vantage point, you can see the boys on the hockey team gathered together, their faces illuminated by the dim, flickering lights. They're laughing and joking around, their voices a stark contrast to the tension you feel. Their easy camaraderie is just about alien to you, it's a grand display of all of the social connections you can't navigate and don't particularly want to.

Andrew and Brendan are in the center, animatedly recounting some story, their hands gesturing wildly. The others are gathered around them, grinning and chuckling at the tale. Even Tweek, who had been so panicked earlier, seems to have found some measure of calm in the familiar company of his friends.

Despite your best efforts to remain unnoticed, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing up briefly, you see Kenny, looking over at you. His gaze is steady, curious, and imploring. You quickly look away, pulling your knees closer to your chest and adjusting your headphones, hoping he'll lose interest.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, the soft melody blending with the distant sounds of laughter. The cold against your back is a sharp contrast to the warmth you see in the group ahead, but for now, it's what you need.

In this quiet corner, you find a fragile balance between trying to disappear completely and actively making yourself as small as possible.

It was just you repeating 'I'm not here' in your head over and over again until you felt like you were back in your bedroom.

Kenny catches your eye again. His gaze is warm and concerned, but it's the intensity of his focus that starts to grate on you. You shift uncomfortably, squirming beneath your skin. Why does he keep looking at you like that? It's not fair that he can just stand there, laughing with his friends and casually putting you at such unease.

His concerned expression, his small smiles, they all feel like a spotlight on your vulnerability, and it irritates you. You're grateful for his kindness, but at this moment, it feels like an intrusion. You don't want to be watched, especially not now, when you're trying to hold yourself together.

Despite the music in your ears, the warmth of your anger pushes through. You bite your lip, trying to keep your frustration in check. Confrontation isn't your style, especially not in a situation like this. Instead, you lower your gaze, focusing on the floor in front of you, hoping he'll take the hint and stop watching.

Minutes pass, the cold pressing in on you, but the warmth of your irritation keeps you from shivering. You keep your eyes averted, trying to lose yourself in the music, but it's hard to shake the feeling of being under scrutiny.

You glance down at your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the same old messages and apps. No new notifications, no one to text or call. The sense of isolation tightens around you, a familiar but not unwelcome companion.

You move slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed, but Kenny spots you. He nudges one of his teammates and points in your direction. The others glance over, curiosity flickering in their eyes. You feel a pang of discomfort, wishing you could blend into the wall behind you.

The power cuts out suddenly, plunging the rink into complete darkness. The hum of lights and machinery is replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the initial startled exclamations of the boys. Panic sets in quickly among them, their voices rising in a cacophony of fear and confusion.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Where's the light switch?"

"I can't see anything!"

"Where's Ryan?"

"IT'S OVER FOR US!"

The boys' shouts echo off the cold, now pitch-black walls, amplifying their anxiety. You hear them stumbling around, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Amidst the chaos, the coach's voice rises, trying to regain control.

"Everyone, calm down! Stay where you are! We'll figure this out." Trevor emerges from his office, Katya close behind in a desperate attempt to calm the scrambling teenagers.

His attempts to soothe the team are met with limited success. The boys' fear has already taken hold, and their nerves are frayed by the unexpected blackout. Their shouts blend into an indistinct roar, making the air feel thick with their collective unease.

You remain where you are, calm and still, a stark contrast to the agitation around you. The darkness doesn't frighten you; it's a familiar companion. You hug your knees tighter, your breathing steady, focusing on the feel of the cold floor beneath you and the muted sounds of the storm outside.

The flash on the smartphones flicks on one by one, flooding the dark corridor with striking light that catches the contours of each and everyone's face. It really looked like you were in a horror movie. Like some creature would scuttle down from the vents overhead and start picking you off.

You hear the clatter of skates and equipment as the boys scramble in the darkness, their movements chaotic and uncoordinated. Someone bumps into the boards, eliciting a string of curses, while another trips over a stray hockey stick, the thud echoing loudly.

The coach's attempts are met with limited success. The boys' voices overlap, each one trying to be heard over the others. The cacophony is overwhelming, a tempest of fear, confusion, and partial anarchy.

But you remain an island of calm amidst the storm. Seated on the cold floor by the door, you pull out your phone, the faint glow of the screen a small comfort in the darkness. You scroll through your camera roll, it doesn't have much in it aside from pictures of your baking and your dog.

You swipe through pictures of your dog lounging on the couch, playing in the park, cuddling up to you in bed, and napping in a sunbeam. His velvet black fur and soulful eyes pull your mouth into a little smile.

Around you, the boys' panic continues unabated. Some of the boys had put their phones face down so the flash would flood the hall, the beam slicing through the dark, casting erratic shadows on the walls. The light only adds to the confusion, making the shadows dance wildly.

They seemed to care a whole lot more than you did. When the focus was torn from you, you were more than happy.

"That's my stick!"

"Stop pushing!"

"Get off my foot, asshole!"

"I fucked your mom."

"Coach, what do we do?"

Craig stood behind Tweek, arms wrapped around his waist to keep the flailing boy away from the doors while screamed and thrashed even more as everyone was soaked in darkness.

Stan's voice cuts through the chaos, steady and authoritative. "Guys, seriously, just listen to Coach. We'll be fine."

"Fuck off, Stan!" Another one of the boys yells, throwing his glove at Stan who looks around, more confused than anything else.

Just as the chaos seems to be subsiding, a new commotion erupts. Two of the boys, still on edge from the blackout, start arguing. Their voices rise sharply above the murmur of the group, quickly drawing everyone's attention.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" one of them shouts.

"Back off, man! It was an accident!" the other retorts.

Before anyone can react, the argument escalates. In the dim light of the scattered phone flashlights, you see them shove each other, their silhouettes clashing. The noise level spikes again as the boys around them try to intervene, shouting and pushing to break up the fight.

"Guys, stop it!"

"Cut it out, both of you!"

"World star!"

The coach's voice booms out, authoritative and commanding. "Enough! Break it up! Now!"

Despite the coach's orders, the fight continues to escalate. You can hear the thud of fists meeting flesh, the grunts of exertion, and the scuffling of skates on the concrete floor. The atmosphere is charged with aggression and adrenaline.

You remain seated on the floor, your back against the door, your phone still in hand. The pictures of your dog are a stark contrast to the violence unfolding nearby, but you refuse to let it pull you in. You swipe to another photo, this one of Toothless lying on his back, belly exposed, inviting a rub. The memory makes you smile faintly, a small bubble of calm in the midst of the storm.

Katya, who has been watching the scene unfold, finally steps in. "Hey! Knock it off!" She pushes through the crowd, grabbing one of the boys by the arm and pulling him away with ease despite her small frame. "This isn't helping anyone. No one is going anywhere until the storm is over!"

The coach joins in, pulling the other boy back. "That's enough! Both of you, sit down and cool off. Now!"

Gradually, the fight is broken up. The boys are separated, still glaring at each other, but the physical confrontation has ended. The others backed away, giving the combatants space while muttering amongst themselves.

In the aftermath, the rink feels even colder, the tension palpable. The coach continues to bark orders, trying to restore a sense of order and calm. The boys settle into an uneasy silence, the adrenaline slowly fading.

Kenny approaches cautiously, his figure a shadow against the faint glow of your phone. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough that you can feel his presence.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You glance at him briefly, then return your gaze to your phone. "You already are."

Kenny sits next to you in silence, the air around you thick with the weight of unsaid words. The rink remains dark and cold, the boys' voices now a distant hum, but the tension between you and Kenny feels palpable. He inches, as if he wants to speak, but holds back, unsure of how to break the silence.

You continue to scroll through your phone, your attention seemingly absorbed by the photos of Toothless. The light from your screen casts a soft glow on your face, highlighting your calm demeanor. To Kenny, you seem perfectly content in your own world, a stark contrast to his thoughts running rampant.

He sneaks glances at you, hoping to catch a hint of interest or an opening for conversation. His mind races with things he wants to say, compliments about your taste in music, questions about your life, anything to bridge the gap between you. But each time he opens his mouth, the words die in his throat.

Kenny sighs quietly, trying to steady his nerves. He likes you-your quiet demeanour, your calm in the chaos, the way you find solace in the small things. Yet, sitting here beside you, he feels an invisible wall between you two, one he doesn't know how to breach.

You don't seem to notice his internal struggle. Your focus remains on your phone, fingers swiping through photos with an absent-minded grace. Kenny watches you, trying to discern your thoughts, but your expression gives nothing away.

In the dim light, he shifts again, his hand brushing lightly against yours. He pulls back quickly, an apology ready on his lips, but you don't react. The fleeting touch, barely there, feels like a missed opportunity, another moment lost to the silence.

He wants to tell you how much he admires your calmness, and how he finds your presence soothing despite the chaos of the night. He wants to share more about himself and find common ground beyond brownies and shared stillness. But the more he looks at you, the more he feels that you're perfectly content without his words.

He swallows hard, the silence stretching on. The darkness around you seems to amplify the distance between you, making every unspoken word feel heavier. Kenny leans back, resigning himself to the quiet.

The silence between you and Kenny stretches on, but it's not uncomfortable. In fact, you begin to appreciate that he doesn't try to fill the quiet with conversation. His presence is steady and unobtrusive, a rare quality that makes you feel a sense of ease you hadn't anticipated.

As you sit there, tapping through photos of Toothless, a thought occurs to you. You glance at Kenny out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems content to simply be there, sharing the space with you without any expectations. It's a subtle but meaningful gesture, one that sparks a sense of gratitude.

You reach into your bag, rummaging around until your fingers find a small tin. You open it, revealing a collection of homemade caramels, each one carefully wrapped in wax paper. The sweet, buttery scent wafts up, a comforting aroma that reminds you of the calm moments spent in your kitchen.

Wordlessly, you hold out the tin to Kenny. He looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before he smiles. The genuine warmth in his expression makes your heart lighten.

He looks at you, surprised, but then his expression softens into a warm smile. He takes a piece, unwrapping it carefully and popping it into his mouth.

"Thanks," his voice gentle and appreciative. "I can't believe you make this stuff yourself," he mutters so quietly that you barely catch it.

You nod. The caramel's sweet aroma mingles with the cold air, creating a moment of shared solace. Kenny's presence feels less like an intrusion now and more like a comforting anchor in the uncertainty of the blackout.

The two of you sit there, enjoying the quiet and the caramel, finding a sense of peace and connection in the midst of the chaos. His willingness to simply be with you, to understand your world without needing to change it or rush to fill the gaps of silence that you sought.

As you both sit there, the shared silence grows deeper and more comfortable. Kenny shifts slightly beside you, then turns his head to look at you. "What are you listening to?" he asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You open your eyes and look at him, your heart pounding a little faster. For a moment, you're unsure. Letting someone into your world, even in this small way, feels daunting. But Kenny has been trying so hard to be there for you, to understand you. His persistence may have been chipping away at you.

You hesitate, staring at him, weighing the risk. Kenny's expression remains open and patient, his eyes encouraging but not pressuring. Taking a deep breath, you make a decision.

Maybe, just this once you would take the chance.

"Do you want to listen?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny's face lights up with a genuine smile. "Hell yeah."

With a small nod, you reach up and gently remove one of your headphones, offering it to him. He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment.

Kenny puts the headphones in his ear, and you press play on your phone, restarting the song. The soft, calming melody fills the space between you, creating an intimate bubble of sound. You glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes close for a moment as he listens, softly nodding along to the rhythm. "Who is this?"

"Daughter."

"Daughter," he mutters out loud to be sure he remembers "Sweet."

You nod, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction. Sharing this small piece of your world, there was a little sense of pride that came with the fact he liked your music.

The soft music envelops you, each note weaving a sense of calm that contrasts starkly with the chaos around you. The hockey team, still restless, starts to settle in for the night. Their earlier laughter and jokes have quieted down, replaced by a more subdued atmosphere. Some of them are sprawled out on the floor, using their jackets as makeshift pillows, while others lean against the walls, whispering in low tones.

"Always wondered what you were listening to," He says absentmindedly "Can you send me this playlist?"

"You don't have my number."

"I think there's a pretty easy solution to this." He was terrified to mess this up.

His words hang in the hair for a moment and you meet Kenny's eyes, seeing the hopeful yet anxious expression on his face, and your heart softens just the slightest.

You reach into your bag and pull out a pen, holding it in your hand as you hesitate. You press the marker to his skin, pausing for a moment as you feel the weight of the moment. Then, with careful strokes, you begin to write your number on the back of his hand where it rests on his knee.

As you finish, you glance up at Kenny, though he's too busy staring at your handwriting to meet your gaze. "Awesome," He mumbles, staring down at it in awe.

A/N: this chapter felt too slow for me so expect some tweaks in the next one

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mccormick headcanons #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny sp #kenny mcormick x reader #sp kenny #stan marsh #craig tucker #tweek tweak

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dronebiscuitbat · 4 months ago

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Give Me a Reason: Chapter 3 -"Ew… Lettuce"

The cafeteria was loud with the murmur of high school students, and Uzi was already gritting her teeth, it wasn't so much the volume that got to her as much as the consistency, it didn't really matter what she did, there was always noise. And it was making her more irritable then normal.

“Did you hear about Rodney?”

“And Like, I told him it was fine or whatever.”

“God my uncle is so hot…”

She got snippets of conversations as she made her way to the lunch line despite her best efforts to block them put, she put an earbud in to try and help to block out the constant noise, but it only helped so much.

She picked up a stainless steel tray, ones that reminded her of the one's in prison shows. And she wouldn't be surprised if they were the same honestly. The quality of the food had to be similar, anyway.

Speaking of, a lady in a haircut dumped a spoonful of mushy peas, then a spoonful of carrots, and a sandwich on her plate, none of it looked appetizing in the slightest, the peas didn't even look like they had salt on them.

She sighed as she moved through the line, grabbing a milk cartoon that had a 15 percent chance of being spoiled and a cup of peaches. Before finding an empty table to sit at near the middle of the cafeteria. If it was anything like last year, people would avoid sitting here unless they didn't have anywhere else to go.

She broke into the peaches immediately, it was the only thing that ever had a chance to taste any good, since it was prepackaged little fruit cups instead of being “cooked” by the staff.

“Hey Uzi!”

N came to sit beside her, something she should have probably been preparing for, considering his behavior all day, but it still caught her off guard and she found herself choking on a peach as she startled, she beat her chest a few times, struggling to breathe until she was able to force it back down her throat.

“Whoops! Sorry! I need to stop sneaking up on you.” He laughed lightly as he sat his backpack down between his legs and started digging into it, by the sounds of it, the thing was almost full to bursting.

“You got your backpack.” She hummed, trying to play off the fact she'd nearly died in front of him. What a way to go, death by peach.

“Well it has my lunchbox in it… can't really forget that when my stomach feels like it's about to digest itself.” He replied, pulling out a blue lunchbox that had been completely stickerbombed with dog stickers, you could barely tell the box underneath was blue to begin with.

He unclamped the lunchbox to reveal one of the best looking packed lunches Uzi had ever seen, there was a plastic covered bowl of soup, crackers, a whole ass salad and a tuna sandwich with the crust cut off.

Because of course the crust was cut off.

“Holy crap. Who packed your lunch? A chef?” Maybe that question was a little rude, or a little loud. And Uzi found her face heating up as she heard it come out of her mouth. Why was she like this? That was such a weird question what is wrong-

“Oh.” He laughed a little nervously, and his cheeks were dusted pink “N-no that would be my older sister, Tessa, she packs all our lunches.”

“Looks way better then…this.” As she said that, she stuck a plastic spoon into the green mush that was supposed to be peas, lifted it above the tray and dropped some off the edge, the peas slid off the spoon and met the rest on the tray with a wet and disgusting slap.

“Gross.” She muttered, leaving the overcooked peas alone in favor of the sandwich. Well… at least it was hard to fuck up a sandwich.

“You wanna share? Tessa always packs too much.” He offered, giving her a genuine smile as he also eyed the peas with apprehension.

The heat on Uzi's face worsened, she'd just met this guy today, she wasn't that interesting she was sure, so what was this boys actual deal? Did he have a goth fetish? He probably had a goth fetish.

“And let you poison me or something? No way.” She grumbled, knitting her brow into a frown and looking away, she wouldn't let this rando get any closer, not until she figured him out.

“Why- Why would I poison you? Also that would imply that I'm risking eating poisoned food as well.” He looked a little confused, but also fairly amused, with one eyebrow up in curiosity but a half-smile on his face.

“Bite me. I don't want your food!” In indignation, she bit into the sandwich she'd been provided with without checking what was on it, and it gave a good crunch.

What? Oh. Oh no.

There was lettuce, fucking lettuce, it felt like thin rubber and tasted like lame water and almost instantly set off every single nope response off in her brain, she gagged, immediately covering her mouth as her eyes watered.

Of all the food aversions, why did her brain bless her with one to the texture of lettuce.

“Woah, Uzi! Are you okay?” N Immediately leaned forward, hovering but not quite placing his hand over her back and she immediately lept for a napkin and coughed her lungs out into it until the flavor and texture was out of her mouth.

She was silent for a moment before she crushed the napkin in her fist and flipped open the sandwich to glare at the offending green, which whoever had made her sandwich had piled on like it was about to go out of style, she couldn't even tell what the other ingredients were aside from mayo.

“Fucking seriously!?” She exclaimed a little louder then intended, as the sandwich mocked her, apparently one could fuck up a sandwich.

“Wow that's a lot of lettuce.” N remarked, before looking over at her with a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine. Just don't like lettuce.” That was a severe understatement, but N didn't really need to know that.

She waved him off, grumbling, looks like it was peaches and corn for her lunch today, great. Hopefully she could scrounge for something else when she got home, wouldn’t be the first time she would have to without.

Then, without warning, there was a crustless tuna sandwich being offered to her, along with N's beaming smile, she still wanted to say no, but damn that sandwich looked good and having eaten only half her breakfast… she was hungry.

She took it from him, giving him a side eye and a mumbled “Thank you.” As she took a bite of it tentatively.

“I promise it's not poisoned.” He chuckled, turning to dig into the bowl of soup he also had, but Uzi barely heard him, she couldn't belive she was about to think this about a simple sandwich, but it was one of the best tuna sandwiches she'd ever had, it also had some kinda of rich cheese and… something else that was probably really expensive.

“Oh my God this is so good…” She said after taking several bites of it, she probably looked like a pig. But she didn't care at the moment.

“Yeah that's Tess's cooking… glad you like it!” He beamed, dunking a cracker in his soup and popping it in his mouth, then sticking his tongue out in some goofy pleased expression.

Uzi couldn't help it, he looked so silly. She snorted and giggled, something that sounded completely foreign coming out of her mouth. If anything N's smile got even wider as he was able to draw a genuine laugh out of someone.

After her little outburst, she found herself a little bit embarrassed. It wasn't often she genuinely laughed, even less in front of someone she barely knew, but something about N’s vibe was making it easy to let down her guard.

Which… was a little bit scary, and Uzi didn't know what to think about that.

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #n and uzi #give me a reason #Uzi's aversion is my aversion #fuck lettuce #all my homies hate lettuce

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

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When plastic straws were banned, new alternative straws of paper, bamboo, and glass were advertised as more sustainable, eco-friendly, and healthy. Groffen’s team wanted to know if they hold up to the hype, but they found that the majority of them do not. With the exception of the stainless steel straws they tested, all of the brands they examined—which are commercially available in Belgium—contained chemicals that are harmful not only for the environment, but also for people. Known as PFAS, which stands for poly- and perfluoroalkyl substances, and dubbed forever chemicals, these compounds don’t break down under heat or sunlight and dissolve in neither water nor oil. For a few decades these PFAS were the darlings of the chemical industry, used in everything from fire-resistant cushions to water-repellant clothing and from nonstick pan coating to disposable plates. Unfortunately, what makes PFAS so durable in kitchenware and other products is also what makes it last so long in the environment. More importantly, in recent years, scientists have linked them to a gamut of damaging health effects, including thyroid disease, high cholesterol, pregnancy problems, liver damage, and several cancers. They have also been linked to adverse reproductive, developmental and immunological effects in animals. The team found PFAS to be present in 90 percent of the paper straws, 80 percent of bamboo, 75 percent of plastic, and 40 percent of glass ones.

#plastic #plastic straws #pollution #plastic waste #forever chemicals #lads you absolutely fucked it

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im-his-druidess · 1 year ago

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A little part 2 to this 😗 👉👈

"I told you a hundred times already! I am not hungry I just want to go home," you said slowly, anger and desperation clinging to your words and sticking in the back of your throat, but the man in front of you didn't seem to hear you.

Either that or he just didn't care.

Vincent, you recalled his name from the mechanic yelling at him earlier, was busy pushing a paper plate towards you. A simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on it. You wanted nothing more than to scarf down the food to appease your empty stomach, but you were more desperate to escape this murderous Alpha than anything else. You were now in the beginning phase of your Heat and it seemed the Alpha had no idea what to do. You were hoping to talk sense into him while you still had all your faculties about you, the simmering in your blood eased only by the Alphas pheromones he was unwittingly releasing, but you knew the clock was ticking before you were crawling all over the man to help ease your pain.

It had been about three days since you arrived in the ghost town called Ambrose from what you could tell, your only source of that information was by the type of food the Alpha tried to feed you and by the way the hundreds of candles burned around you, and you were nearly at your wits end. You tried screaming at the silent man, tried to yank yourself free from the chain around your wrists that were bolted to the wall, tried to calmly bargain with him, and eventually bawled your eyes out until your eyes ran dry.

The only response was him petting your head and sliding you a plastic cup full of lukewarm water.

It seemed that no matter what you said it wouldn't get through this man, especially since it seemed he was running on pure instinct, and you began to dread your future even more. You were chained in what appeared to be an underground labyrinth with nothing but candles to light your surroundings, a bed directly beside you and some blurry sketches pinned to the wall was the only thing you could see, and you were glad for that. The room you were in was sectioned off, but you had spotted a stainless steel gurney and an array of medieval looking tools when you were first carried down here. Worse, was when Vincent disappeared for a bit and the smell of burning flesh and muffled groaning filled the air, and you had dry-heaved when you caught the faded scent of one of your friends before the loud clanging of pipes and the hiss of a machine seemed to erase the scent.

You knew then that whatever happened, that you were the lone survivor of your group, and that had caused the first meltdown that lead you to scream and thrash around like a woman possessed. All that accomplished was having Vincent race to your side, a soothing yet croaky purr rumbling in his chest that you felt more than heard, and pet over you until you exhausted yourself. The feel of a plate being placed gingerly on your lap dragged you from your thoughts and you looked down to see that the Alpha had managed to get closer and place the sandwich on your lap, before looking at you expectantly. This close you could see his lone blue eye, bright and creepily intense, and you noticed his habit of cocking his head to the side to move his long black hair out of his field of vison. You wanted to bang your head against the wall as he glanced to the sandwich to you and back again, his intention clear, and you cursed his stupid Alpha instincts that seemed to want nothing more than to "take care" of the Omega nearby.

You briefly wondered if he even knew what he was doing.

"Fuck you," you hissed with as much venom as you could muster, before picking up the sandwich and taking a pointedly large bite, silently praying that you would choke and end this horrible nightmare.

His reaction was instantaneous. Long fingers stroked over your hair, his eye crinkling at the corners which you figured must mean he was smiling, and that strange purr filled the air again. You wanted to spit the food in his face, the mask would block your attack but the message would be clear, however you were swallowing and shoving the sandwich in your mouth without much direction from your brain. It seems hunger, and the subconscious need to hoard food in preparation for your Heat, won out in the end. You were busy licking the crumbs off your fingers when that same plastic cup was shoved under your nose and you wasted no time in snatching it and chugging. You had peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, but you made sure your displeasure was shown by the was you glared daggers at him the entire time.

The fucker didn't even flinch.

He just chirped happily and continued to pet over you until you finished. When those long overly warm fingers drifted to your throat, you jerked away and hissed, but your anger was quickly replaced by ice cold fear as he fisted your hair at the nape of your neck and forcibly yanked you closer. Some strands of hair were pulled free at the harsh movement and you whimpered at the stinging in your scalp. You stayed completely still as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, not wanting to entice his anger any more, and his entire body seemed to slump against you as he breathed in deep. His own spicy Alpha scent flared in response to your pre-Heat scent and you felt your stomach roll and twist into knots. His long hair brushed against you as he moved closer, broad shoulders blocking out any light, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse from here on out.

#Vincent Sinclair #House of Wax #Vincent Sinclair x Reader #House of Wax headcanons #Vincent Sinclair headcanons #slashers #slasher x Reader #slashers fandom #slasher fandom #House of Wax 2005 #the cryptid posts

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grillpartshub-blog · 5 months ago

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Replace Stainless Steel Heat Plate for Your BBQ Gas Grills (Set of 2) Fits Compatible Models: Patio Chef SS42, SS54, SS72LP, SS72NG, Grill Chef PR364, Barbeques Galore 3BENDLP, Grand Hall REGAL04CLP, Tera Gear GSS3220AN Gas Models SHOP NOW!!

#Barbeques Galore Heat Plate #CHARBROIL 463742111 #Gas Grill Heat Plate #Grand Hall Grill Parts #Members Mark BBQ Parts #Patio Chef Grill Replacement Parts #stainless steel heat plate

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kasienda · 7 months ago

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Bend the World Around It: Ch 3 - One Day a Week

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Read on Ao3

(Amazing and Stunning Artwork by @blur0se)

Chapter 3: One Day a Week

They don’t talk about their names and identities.

He doesn’t ask and she doesn’t want to talk about it anyway. It’ll just make them both sad.

But one night a week, they share an evening together in their shared apartment - their home.

Alya always covers for her with her parents. Alya thinks it’s for her standing “patrol” night with Chat Noir, but if Alya had noticed that no patrolling was taking place she hadn’t said anything. Marinette isn’t entirely sure why she keeps her new part-time living arrangement a secret from Alya. It all just feels too fragile, like if she breathes too hard the illusion will dissipate like smoke.

Or an alarm will go off and she’ll wake up from the dream.

Because being transformed as Ladybug while slicing vegetables for a stir fry dinner while Chat Noir observes from over her shoulder feels positively ridiculous.

Ridiculous enough to be a dream for sure.

“So you just wait until the oil is hot,” she explains as she dumps carrots into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. “And then add the vegetables in one at a time. The order is based on what takes the longest to cook.”

Ladybug stirs the carrots around the pan before adding onions, and then mushrooms. Then she hands the spatula to him. He replicates her work with a level of enthusiasm the task absolutely does not deserve.

It makes her smile.

“That’s it?” he asks. “It can’t be that simple.”

She laughs. “I mean, I’m not a professional chef or anything, but basic cooking isn’t too hard once you’ve done it a few times.”

The timer goes off, and she flinches at the sound. Her eyes squeeze closed. It’s the smell of grilled onions that ground her more than anything. Then his hand, squeezing her shoulder. She looks at him and his eyes are so warm. It’s impossible not to smile back.

She’s already awake. This is real. She doesn’t need to wake up.

“Pasta’s done,” she says, flipping the heat off. “Do you know where I can find a colander?”

“A what?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunched up in genuine confusion.

“Umm… a pasta strainer,” she clarifies.

“What’s a pasta strainer?”

She blinks at him in shock. “Oh my god! You’ve really never stepped foot inside a kitchen, have you?”

She yanks open a cupboard, and then another, rifling through pots and pans.

“I've been inside a kitchen.”

She snorts.

“What?! I have!”

“Clearly very little cooking took place while you were there.”

He grins back sheepishly and shrugs as she places the colander in the stainless steel sink.

“I can’t believe I married you.”

He pulls away from the stove to step in behind her, his hands resting at her waist as he kisses her cheek. “You don’t even regret it,” he whispers, and she can hear the grin in his voice.

And he’s right. She doesn’t regret it.

Not even a little bit.

…

Ladybug serves out the food on the plates. Grilled veggies and chicken pile up on top of the pasta, and she tops it off with crushed walnuts. Her presentation is as artful as any professional plate Adrien has seen in his very privileged life, and he finds himself doubting that she’s not a professional chef.

He scoops each plate from the counter and brings it to adjacent corners of the small dining table. When they sit, she’s so close their knees bump. He relishes in the contact.

He taps the side of her knee with his own on purpose.

Her smile is positively indulgent.

“You’re like a child, poking and poking for attention.”

“I’m just excited!”

Her cheeks bloom with the color of pink rose buds. “About?”

“That you’re here! That I can touch you!” He offers his hand, and she takes it instantly. “That we can have this.”

Her eyes turn glassy. “Me too,” she admits.

Adrien has never had family dinners like these. Not even when his mother was alive.

He’s never ever going to let them get old.

…

Marinette laughs into her cereal the next morning, remembering Chat’s cheeky expression as shared good byes not an hour earlier. She can’t believe it took her so long to let herself love him.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Marinette startles and looks up into the amused eyes of both her parents, sitting across from her at the breakfast table.

“I am!” she agrees. “I had a really good day yesterday.”

“Anything in particular happen that made it a good day?” her mother asks.

Marinette’s smile wilts just a bit at the edges.

“Nothing in particular,” she says.

“So you’re going to make me guess,” her papa teases.

“Go ahead.” There’s no way they could possibly guess that she literally dreamed up a boyfriend for herself and was now living with him one day a week.

More than anything though, she wishes she could tell them. They would love him.

…

Adrien sits across from his father at the long formal dining table in the Agreste mansion.

Every clink of his silverware echoes throughout the cavernous room.

They don’t speak.

Adrien doesn’t bother trying to make conversation the way he used to. He knows from previous experience that initiating conversation often is either pulling teeth or navigating a minefield and he doesn’t have the energy for either.

But it’s hard to sit still, and the hour-long meal feels like an eternity.

There’s no teasing or banter as they eat. His father would never tolerate a game of footside under the table even if they sat close enough to each other for that to be a possibility. He misses Ladybug’s voice and her laughter. Meals are meant to be shared, and Adrien didn’t know what that was like before Jubilation.

He doesn’t know how to go back to this.

Being dismissed afterwards to his room offers no reprieve. For all that his room is filled with books, games, a basketball hoop, and a zipline, there’s nothing in it. Not for him. It’s all soulless.

He doesn’t even want to sit down.

“Plagg, do you think anyone would notice if I stopped sleeping here?”

Plagg shrugs.

Adrien takes that as permission and transforms.

He lands on the balcony and slips inside into the living room. She’s not there, but it almost doesn’t matter because the silence here is peaceful instead of oppressive.

And it’s already filled with memories of her. Real memories of her.

He stares at the blank wall opposite the dining table that used to hold all his mother’s pictures.

He has an idea.

…

Ladybug does a double take as she walks through the dining area. The wall is covered in framed pictures of her and Chat Noir. Some, she recognizes from the Ladyblog. Others are selfies that she knows he captured on his baton. She pulls the Oblivio kiss from the wall, and touches the glass where their hands are joined.

It’s a kiss that actually happened for all that she can’t remember it. But now, she can remember so many kisses that never actually happened. The first time she saw this picture she wanted to deny its existence. Now, with the way he’s holding her with such care, the way their fingers are interlaced, she doesn’t understand how she ever saw anything in it other than love.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he asks.

“Why this kiss and not the Dark Cupid One? It was first.”

He shrugs. “I think this one was more special? It looks like it was something we both wanted.”

“Do you remember it?“

He shakes his head. “Just looks like our amnesiac selves saw something in each other that maybe took us longer to realize.”

“Not you,” she counters.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that’s true. The way I felt in the beginning and the way I feel now… I don’t know. It’s different.”

She frowns, glancing up from the picture to him. “In a good way?”

“Yes!”

She takes in the picture for another several seconds. He’s right.

She places it back on the wall so she can look at it every time she walks past, every time they sit down for a meal together.

Then she catches sight of the one next to it.

“No! Absolutely not!” she exclaims, ripping it from the wall.

“What? Why not?”

“Why not?! It’s a terrible picture!” Her eyes are half closed and she’s making a creepy grin, and his mouth is twisted in some weird way as he’s clearly in the middle of speaking. It flatters neither of them. Its only redeeming quality is that she remembers the patrol the picture came from and they had spent the whole thing laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

“Why do you want to look at it every day?”

“It’s a real picture,” he says, taking it from her and placing it reverently back on the wall.

And there’s something in the way he says real that has her eyes narrowing. She wants to ask, but he shakes his head.

“Please?” he asks. He’s begging.

It’s a terrible picture. She hates it. There has to be better ones.

She knows he’ll let her take it down.

But he has a reason. The picture means something to him that he can’t explain. She can’t take that away without understanding why.

She huffs. “Fine.”

He grins in pure delight. “It’ll be your favorite by Christmas.”

She groans, knowing he’s likely right.

He laughs, and pulls her into an embrace, kissing the side of her face.

Because she's going to laugh every time she sees it. And like he said, it’s real .

Unlike the rest of her life.

…

“Hey cupcake! You okay?” her father asks, poking his head up through the trap door.

“I’m fine,” she lies. “Why do you ask?”

It’s a stupid question. She’s wilted over her desk doing absolutely nothing. She doesn’t even have a project laid out or a video playing. Of course he’s worried that she’s not okay.

She really needs to get better at pretending.

“You’ve just been pining away all day. And it’s the weekend.”

“I promise I’m not pining.” She can’t be pining over Chat if she and Chat are together.

Sure, she misses him every moment they’re apart. Even his stupid jokes and his total lack of cooking experience–though she’s being unfair. He’s proven himself a fast learner.

She wishes she could call him or send him stupid texts, wishes that she could bring him over to meet her parents.

Who is she kidding? She’s totally pining.

“We’ve just been worried about you. You’ve been really quiet lately, and sleeping maybe too much.”

She wasn’t sleeping. It was just hard to get up in the morning when everything felt pointless.

“I’m okay. Just… trapped in the routine, I think.”

“Well, come downstairs and break it up!” her father invites.

She forces herself to smile, but she doesn’t feel it.

…

The bell rings signaling the end of class, and Nino starts to pack up, but Adrien is much slower to move. Was class really already over? Adrien feels like he just got there.

Nino bumps his shoulder. “You okay, mec?”

Adrien’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m fine.”

He’s better than fine! He had low-key moved out of his house, and Ladybug was living with him part time! And sure, he can’t tell Nino any of that. And he can’t share anything about his day with his girlfriend either. He can’t introduce his best friend to his girlfriend or his girlfriend to his best friend. He knows they already know each other, so it seems like it shouldn’t matter.

And yet, it’s not the same.

“Do I not seem fine?” he asks.

“You didn’t take any notes,” Nino points out.

Adrien blinks down at the empty document on the screen of his tablet. “I just couldn’t focus.” That much is true at least.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Nino offers.

There’s so much he wants to talk about. He wants to tell Nino all of it.

But his life is all cut up into pieces, more than it ever had been before, and every way Adrien turns he’s bumping into walls that he never wanted to be there. He feels cut off, like he’s looking at the world through the glass of his bedroom window. He should be used to it. He’s no stranger to loneliness. He’s been lonely his whole life.

But now, he’s had a taste of something more.

He’s had a literal taste of home cooked meals, been blessed with evenings full of lively conversation and joyous laughter, felt the warmth of Ladybug wrapped up in his arms as they fall asleep.

It feels so good, he almost can’t believe it’s real.

But there’s no flying alarm clocks here threatening to shatter his dream.

Just six neverending excruciating days between each glorious evening in paradise.

But even if one day a week is all he can have, it’s still the best his life has ever been.

“No,” he tells Nino with a smile. “I really am okay.”

He wills himself to believe it.

…

She wakes up in his arms. And it’s both the best and worst part of her day. Because she loves being in his arms, loves waking up with their heads pressed and their legs tangled together, loves how warm and treasured she feels in his hold.

And it’s also the moment when she has to tear herself away to go back to her normal life.

The life she doesn’t get to share with him.

One day a week is not enough. Not even close to enough.

She steals his pillow to take home. It’s not quite the same, but at least it smells like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that the clock has reset and she’s six long never ending days away from seeing him again.

She trudges to school the next morning. She’s not excited about any of it, but she also has nothing better to fill her time with.

After class, Rose is talking. Marinette tries to listen. She tries more than once, but she can barely hear a world of it. Something about trying to see a new specialist. And Marinette feels guilty. Rose deserves her attention. Marinette wants to be a part of her life, wants to be a part of all of her friends’ lives.

But she can’t let them be a part of hers in the most fundamental way.

And it’s becoming harder and harder each day with all her friends, with the classes she sits through counting down every minute - not until the bell rings, but until her night with Chat Noir arrives.

For the one night a week where she gets to live .

“Marinette? Are you okay?” The fact that it’s Juleka asking showcases how distant she must be acting.

She summons a smile. It might even pass muster. “Of course! Just tired.”

Four skeptical pairs of eyes peer at her.

An akuma alert saves her from having to answer.

But more than that, that alert doesn’t fill her with unease or panic. That alarm sends her heart skyrocketing and her stomach fluttering in the most pleasant of ways.

That sound means she gets to see him more than once that week.

…

“This is not the time for flirting!”

Chat grins. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last few years it’s that it’s always time for flirting.

She likes it when he flirts. And the more stressed she is, the more important it is because it keeps her out of her own head.

And more importantly than any of that, he thinks she’s amazing and brilliant, and he wants her to know it every minute of every day.

“M’lady! I’m just trying to ensure that if we should fall in battle, the last thing you’ll ever hear is my undying affection for you,” he says while swinging his baton like a bat to reflect the akuma’s powers.

“Gah! I really can't believe I ever agreed to marry you.”

He laughs in delight, twisting around her to shield her from another strike.

Once they’re in the clear, he leans towards her. “You know it was the best decision in your life.”

Something flashes in her eyes, and she softens.

“Why is it impossible to stay mad at you?”

“Love you, too, M’lady,” he says cheekily, knowing full well that she wasn’t ever actually mad.

…

Despite the one akuma, the rest of the week drags on like one of Ms Mendeleiev’s Chemistry lectures. When school is out, Marinette races home, makes a show of packing a bag “for Alya’s” and is out the door with barely a wave. Ladybug swings through the window an hour early, and somehow he’s beaten her there. Her joy at seeing him overwhelms the slight disappointment that she won’t be able to surprise him with a homemade dessert.

“Hello m’la–”

She cuts him off with a desperate kiss. He diligently drops whatever he was holding with a thud, and his arms wrap around her. Her hands tangle into his hair, caressing his cat ears to send him into a purr. She presses every centimeter of herself into every centimeter of him as if she can push hard enough to melt into him so they’ll never be separated again. She breathes in his breath, savors it, wishing she could breathe him in and take a little piece of him with her.

When he tries to pull away, she kisses him again and again until he’s all she can see, all she can feel.

“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth.

“I love you, and I’ve missed you so much. There weren’t enough akumas this week.”

He laughs. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“A week is too long.”

“A week is waaay too long,” he agrees. He takes her hand and leads her to the sofa. “I got something for you. Wait right here.”

She sits as he darts into the other room and comes back with a box wrapped in red paper, decorated with a tiny little ladybug plush and a big black bow.

“Aww! This is adorable,” she coos at the little ladybug.

“Open it!” he urges, his excitement bubbling over. She tears through the paper rapidly and finds herself face to face with a baby doll.

It’s meant to be a joke. She knows that it is, but she’s stroking the plastic baby’s face and hair, and she’s crying.

“It’s Emma,” she chokes out. And his arms are around her instantly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just — We’ll have an Emma someday. A real baby.”

And it’s so beautiful. She wants it now.

But it feels impossible. She can’t even tell him her name.

She clings to him as the tears come. And he holds her, his hands rub her back and he coos soothing sounds and words into her ear.

He’s so strong. He seems to accept their situation so easily, it’s almost not fair.

“How do you do it?” she whispers.

“Do what?” he asks softly, leaning his head against hers.

“Go back and forth?” she says over his shoulder. “Keep this life and your regular life separate?”

He turns her head to look at his, his eyes swirling in concern.

“I just— I hate going back,” she continues, desperate to keep talking before the tears overwhelm her completely. “I can’t talk about you, and I can’t introduce you to my parents, I can’t tell you about any of it! And I can’t— None of it feels real!”

Her sobs break past her defense like a dam braking, and he yanks her to his chest once again.

“I just want this all the time.”

He kisses her head, her hands, her cheeks, and then her mouth, never letting go of her.

“How do you do it?” she asks again.

His catlike eyes search her face.

“I thought keeping everything separate was what you wanted,” he finally says, his thumbs stroking each of her hands. “I can do it because if this is all you’re able to give me, I will take it. But I don’t want to go back either. You broke out of the dream, M’lady. I would have stayed there forever. I survive losing the dream every week because I know it will come back.”

She blinks rapidly, trying to fend off the burn of threatened tears. He thinks she’s stronger than him, but she knows that he’s wrong. He’s always been the stronger of the two of them. He carries so much that always felt She loves him so much.

“But if you’re telling me this is what you want full time all the time? I will tell you my name right now. Just say the word!”

Hope bubbles up in her chest, and she nods rapidly.

“No.”

They both bolt to their feet at the unexpected voice.

Bunnyx is standing there in the center of the living room.

It’s so strange to see anyone there who isn’t them, Marinette feels dizzy. She blinks a few times, and Chat squeezes her hand. She knows he will follow her lead.

Marinette clears her throat. “Why are you here?”

“Ladybug, I’ve told you — you can’t know each other’s identities.”

A rock lodges in her throat, and she blinks back tears.

Why can’t they know?

“We wouldn’t tell anyone!” Chat Noir insists.

Bunnyx smiles softly, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I know, but you’ll get caught.”

“Monarch already knows we love each other,” Chat Noir argues back. “He’s seen us together. We haven’t been subtle during the last batch of akumas.”

“He’s seen Ladybug and Chat Noir together,” Bunnyx concedes. “It’s your civilian sides that allow him to figure it out. And then one of you always gets akumatized. And it’s a Chat Blanc situation every time!”

“Chat Blanc?” Chat echoes.

“Do you want to explain it to him, or shall I?” Bunnyx asks. There’s no bite or malice to her tone.

Marinette turns to him, let’s her finger caress the side of his face. “I told you,” she chokes out, “our love destroys the world.”

He yanks her into his arms, and rocks her fiercely back and forth, shaking his head. “There’s no way, m’lady.”

“I saw—“

“He’s right,” Bunnyx tells her with a smile. “It’s not your love. It’s your identities and it’s not anything the two of you do. It’s not your fault. Not ever. Not a single time. It’s Monarch.”

Marinette sobs harder. It isn’t fair. The only thing she and Chat had ever done was try and protect Paris over and over again. She wants to love him with all of herself, she wants to love him openly.

Why can’t they have that?

“I think you’ve made your point,” Chat says coldly over her shoulder. “You can leave now.”

“No, wait!” Marinette objects, twisting in his arms to face their uninvited guest. “You said, it’s our civilian side that messes things up?”

Bunnyx’s answering smile stretches across her whole face. She taps her own cheek. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

A portal opens up behind her and she backs into it. “Don’t have too much fun, kids!”

The portal shrinks into a dot and they are alone once again. Marinette turns to Chat, grinning.

His eyebrows are scrunched up in that adorable way when he’s confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir can date! Outside and in the open! We just have to do it as our hero selves!”

“We can have more than this,” she says, “if you want.”

He answers her with another kiss that steals all of Marinette’s breath.

“I want everything we can have, M’lady.”

...

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #established relationship #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #pre reveal #jubilation au #romance #speed write #only write the fun parts #my own content #bend the world around it

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medfetabdl · 1 month ago

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I thought I could show you all a bit more details of my DIY monitor mounting arm. When I originally posted it I didn’t really show much detail. It’s also changed a lot since the first post.

I first built it in February. It was my first fabrication project I’ve ever done. By fabrication I mean design, and building. Building it took a lot of welding and machining. I have formal training in both welding and machining now but at the time I only had training in welding. The welder I used is a harbor freight Titanium Easy Flux 125. It’s a gas-less MIG machine so it’s a flux core wire feed machine. I also can stick weld which I actually find more fun but my stick welder doesn’t have enough power to weld this stuff. The main frame parts are made from 1 inch square steel tube. All the adjustment parts are made from 1/4 inch mild steel plate, 3/4 round mild steel, and 5/16-18 Socket Head Cap Screws. It mounts to my bed with clamps that come from my background in the entertainment industry where they are usually used to mount lighting instruments to pipes. All the machining was done on my vertical knee milling machine that has a 2 axis prototrack plus CNC system installed on it. At the time I was not trained in CNC so everything was done with the machine manually, now I’m trained in CNC.

The monitor mounts to the arm via 2 tapered pins that go into the bottom of all the Intellivue monitors. To get the proper taper I measured it with taper gauges. Usually a round part with a taper would be done on a lathe but I don’t own a lathe so I had to get creative. You can use a milling machine as a lathe so I mounted the round stock in the spindle with a collet. To get the proper taper was a whole different ball game. To get the proper taper I ended up having to come up with a complex equation to set the power feeds on my machine to the right speed to cut the taper.

For a while the mounting plate was mounted directly to the mounting arm because it worked perfectly for the MP5. When I got the MP50 I found it had feet on the bottom that stuck out and didn’t allow the monitor to swivel all the way around. To move the monitor you would also have to push the monitor itself and there was nothing to grab onto to make that easy. So I did a modification and I added a piece of pipe as a spacer so the feet would clear and swivel all the way around. I also ended up making a handle to grab to move the arm and to swivel the monitor out of a piece of 1/4in stainless steel round stock which I heated with a torch and bent.

Originally I made a little steel wire basket that my MP2 used to sit in but after a while I realized how ugly it was so I removed it and built the totally over engineered mount that my X2 sits inside of now. The mount is made out of solid machined 6061 aluminum. I made it after receiving training in both manual and CNC machining. To build it I actually went with all manual machining because I wanted to have fun and just make up a design as I went along. It’s made of 3 pieces. The back is a piece of aluminum C channel that I milled down so the walls were 90 degrees to each other. The rest of it was made from a piece of aluminum plate I had laying around. The locking screws are just 1/4-20 socket head cap screws with a 3d printed knob on them.

When I took the wire basket off I made some aluminum hooks which I mounted with the same screw holes the wire basket used. I also made some wire clamps out of some mild steel to hold the power cable and the Ethernet cable a couple months ago. Today I zip tied the MSL cable to the power cable. The whole arm is hight adjustable but I never use the hight adjustment. The whole thing got a white paint job a few weeks ago although I used really cheap spray paint so it’s worn through in a lot of spots.

The whole thing was designed so that I can just loosen the clamps and take it off the bed if I have people in my room that don’t know about my fetishes.

I was looking at some used monitor arms on eBay last week and then I remembered that my arm can actually be easily stowed away. It’s definitely not a project within most people’s reach due the tools, material and time required. I have at least 20 or 30 hours in building the arm and I’ll probably continue to upgrade it as I think of things to add.

#medfet #heart monitor #ecg #ekg #ekg monitor #resus kink #resuscitation #resus rp #ecg monitoring #resus #resusfetish #resus community #cpr resus #ecg electrodes #ecgmachine #ecg test

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 10 months ago

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And I give you part 14! We are nearing the end of this series, just a couple of parts left. As always there’s a summary here in part 1.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner, Sam Kiszka x fem OC ***slash pairings

Warnings and tags: 18+ only!!! Adult themes including: some kissing and groping, talk of infidelity, angst and lying, smoking and drinking, slash of course, restaurant AU, third person POV Jake, Danny, and Sam

Word count: 7.4k

Kim smirked as she caught his attention even through the narrow window of the kitchen.

“You doing anything after work tonight?” He asked her with suggestive attitude dripping from his simple words.

“Depends” Kim replied as she picked up the couple of plates that were waiting under the heat lamps to be taken out to the early evening diners.

He leaned closer over the stainless steel countertops riddled with half dried sticky drops of reduction that had missed the plates during their final touch ups and cocked a brow encouraging her to say more.

“Depends on what my boyfriend is doing after work” Kim elaborated. She loved saying that word, boyfriend, even if it had been just a few weeks since Jake had made their relationship status the hot topic of the Christmas party gossip.

“Behind!” Jake called as he tried to move past Julian with a pan full of undercooked risotto in an attempt to get it back onto a burner before it cooled off. Julian didn’t hear him though, and he stepped backwards right into Jake’s path, knocking the pan from his grip on the towel around the handle and splattering the contents all over the kitchen floor. “Fuck! I said behind!”

“Sorry, my bad man wasn’t paying attention” Julian tried to genuinely apologize for his mistake but Jake immediately blew up on him.

“Yeah, well maybe if you were paying attention to what was going on in the kitchen instead of constantly flirting with the waitstaff then you wouldn’t need to be sorry” he scoffed, squatting to pick up the pan and shove it into Julian’s hands to take back to the sinks.

Julian immediately rebutted, being the first to talk back to Jake in the kitchen in a long time. “Hey, don’t get mad at me for talking to your girlfriend when she’s over here flirting too”.

“Kim can do whatever the fuck she wants, I’m not the boss of her. I am, however, the boss of you and you’re gonna get your ass back over there and remake that risotto before I get back”.

By this point some of the other cooks had already heard the altercation and came to help, starting to clean up the mess with old kitchen towels while Jake stormed off through the back door.

“The fuck is his problem recently? Been riding everyone’s ass the past week” Julian turned back towards Kim who had stood behind the window with her plates still in hand, frozen in shock by what she just witnessed.

He was right, Jake had been distant and on edge for a while now. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but she figured it had something to do with Sam leaving for those few days since his mood seemed to sour right around then. They had talked a few times about how much he missed his twin, and she’d heard from Danny when Josh left how hard he took it. Now his younger brother was leaving soon too.

She worried about what that meant for Jake still being here considering Nashville wasn’t even his hometown like it was hers. With them gone there would be nothing left to keep him here, to keep him with her.

Jake leaned against the wall outside, cursing himself for not grabbing his jacket before storming out the door. He pulled a crumpled up pack of cigarettes he’d bummed off one of the prep cooks earlier in the week out of his pocket and placed one between his lips.

Smoking hadn’t been something he wanted to do anymore since a couple of years ago when he got really sick. Recently though he’d been itching for something to help calm his incessant nerves and this seemed to be his quick fix.

Cupping his hand around the end that dangled out his mouth to shield the flame of his lighter from the wind, he lit it and took a deep inhale. Holding it in he let the burn overcome him until he couldn’t take it any longer and blew out the smoke with a shaky cough. Fuck, lungs still not what they used to be.

As he took a few smaller puffs he watched as a black car came pulling into the employee lot, parking next to his own car. He immediately recognized the owner of the newer vehicle, and from the direction of the sun beaming down from behind him he could see directly into the windshield.

He watched the two inside as Sam leaned over from the passenger's seat and gave Danny a quick, though not shy, kiss before opening his door and stepping outside.

“Smoke break brother?” Sam called out teasingly because he knew Jake didn’t smoke anymore, and if he was then that meant he was in a mood. Mood or not, Sam was never one to be afraid of poking the bear.

Jake tossed the only half smoked cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out among the pile of countless other butts from all the kitchen staff before him who had used this spot for a quick nicotine break. “Whatsit-to-ya?” He quipped back, keeping his eyes lowered as he heard Sam approaching paired with the sound of the steps of the driver behind him.

“Just wondering” Sam replied, a lot less cocky this time as he stopped just in front of the door. “Don’t have to smoke that shit though. I still have the ones you like stashed behind the bar”.

“Thanks” Jake mumbled out, suddenly feeling a little childish for being quick to be rude to him just now. It seemed like he had a bite with just about everyone recently.

“Fuck, forgot my phone in the car. I’ll see you in there?” Danny spoke up from behind Sam. Jake wasn’t sure if he’d caught the small interaction between them, but if he did he was sure to know why Jake would be acting strange and distant right now.

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing between Jake who was still avoiding his gaze and Danny who had looked tense since pulling into the parking lot. He reminded himself of the talk he and Danny had a few days ago when he came back from LA and bit his cheek as he went ahead inside.

“Did you really forget your phone?” Jake asked once Sam was gone, looking up to see Danny standing before him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black slacks.

“No, just wanted to talk to you for a sec” he admit, pulling his left hand free to tuck a stray coil of hair that had fallen from his clip with the chilly wind behind his right ear.

“So, talk”. Jake’s eyes fell down to the pile of butts at his feet again, kicking a few to bunch them together so he could come back out and sweep them up later since it was clear no one else was going to.

Danny got straight to the point, knowing he didn’t have much time to get into details right now. “Sam said he wants to try and work things out”.

Jake scoffed, of course he did. Sam may be an idiot sometimes but he wasn’t stupid enough to let Danny go that easily. “Does he know?” He asked next without needing to specify about what.

“You said I shouldn’t tell him”.

I know what I said, but that was before you guys got back together. Jake sighed and pulled his bandana off his forehead to smooth back the stray pieces of hair that had been blown from his bun before he got ready to go back inside. “Yeah, no don’t tell him”.

“So we’re good right?” Danny's voice sounded stressed, like it was paining him to have this conversation right now, but he was forcing himself to anyway.

He mustered up the best smile he could, first one in days even if it was fake, and walked a few steps over to place a hand up on his broad shoulder “we’re good Danny”.

It was a simple exchange, not many words at all, but Jake knew Danny meant to imply their morning together still didn’t mean anything. If that was the truth, Jake thought, then neither of them would have to worry about it happening again.

“Did you guys figure it out?” Sam whispered over to Danny when they met back up inside, leaving Jake behind to get back to work in the kitchen.

“Figure what out?” Danny questioned, trying to sound like he had no idea what Sam meant.

“Whatever Jake is pissed about. Did you guys work it out?” Sam clarified in a tone that let Danny know he wasn’t concerned, just wanting to make sure everyone was happy.

“Oh. Yeah he’s fine. Everything’s fine”.

Jake tried not to let seeing Sam and Danny being together again bother him as he worked. Instead he focused on the energy he felt finally being back at it with both of them on shift tonight. The holidays and the new semester starting had made Sam and Danny’s schedule pretty chaotic, not to mention the few days off Sam took to go to LA.

Now things were starting to get back to normal and the kitchen was beginning to feel exhilarating again as the orders rolled through and his commands were echoed back and forth through the different stations.

Plates were flying in and out of the kitchen as the wait staff tried to keep up with the speed of service. Danny was at the forefront of it all, helping expedite plates as they came up to the window by handing them off to the correct waitresses and making the line from warmers to the tables in the dining room seamless. If a mistake was made, no one panicked, because Danny and Jake were communicating with each other from each end. Danny asking for times on orders he knew needed to be prioritized and Jake organizing the line to make sure plates weren’t getting held up at any one station for too long.

This was the busiest rush they’d had since before the holidays. In the past Jake remembered how they would struggle in the kitchen to work seamlessly to piece everything together while the dining room spiraled out of control with hungry angry guests and tired overrun staff. That wasn’t the case tonight, even the bar he’d heard was all caught up in drink orders.

“Excellent work tonight” the director snuck up from behind Jake as the orders died down and he got a chance to catch his breath. Jake hadn’t even noticed he was here tonight. The director usually preferred to come in earlier in the day to get his work done and was gone far before dinner started, but he guessed today was a rare case.

“I’ll be sure to let everyone know, it was their hard work that kept us above water. I just made sure no one lost any fingers”.

The director smiled as he threw his arm over Jake’s shoulder and pulled him away from the monitor where he was putting in the items from the destroyed log to make sure he could close inventory for the day without any discrepancies, at the top of the list forty ounces of risotto.

��Listen, have Julian close up for you tonight. You finish everything you need to do in the next hour and leave so you can come in early tomorrow. I have something I want to show you”.

Jake’s interest peaked. Though he knew he could stay to close tonight and still manage being here early tomorrow, he didn’t try to argue the matter. He just nodded his head with a solid “yes sir” and was left with a pat on his shoulder.

Even if his day had started off a little rocky, he finished it with a smile on his face and the warmth of satisfaction coursing through his veins along with the anticipation of what tomorrow had in store.

Two days ago

Sam sat across from Danny on the couch as he recounted in very animated detail his trip. He’d gotten a tour of the production company he was to work at for the summer along with the two other interns they had hand picked from graduate programs across the country.

“I also found this really nice apartment that’s not too far away. The other guys were talking about all rooming together to save on living expenses, but I told them I’d have to think about it. Figured you’d rather we have an apartment to ourselves. We might have to downgrade to just a one bedroom though, rent in LA is fucking outrageous!”

Danny was excited to hear that Sam had a good time, and by the sound of it he was ready to move as soon as possible after graduation. He couldn’t help but be a little confused though, because last he checked Sam had broken up with him before he left, and now he was talking about moving into a one bedroom together. Things weren’t adding up.

“That’s great Sam, it’s just I didn’t think you’d still want me coming with you?” He replied when Sam paused his storytelling to gauge Danny’s reaction to the apartment situation.

“What? Why?” Sam didn’t seem to follow Danny’s reservation. Sure not having the space to have their own separate rooms would be annoying at first, and he’d have to sell a lot of his furniture, but they were sleeping together in Danny’s room most nights since getting together so he didn’t expect him to really have a problem with it.

“How are we going to share a room if we’re not together anymore?”

The memory of their fight right before he left crept up on Sam as he realized where Danny was coming from. On the plane ride home he had come up with a whole speech about how he was sorry for putting Danny in a difficult position, but as soon as the plane landed and he made his way towards baggage claim all his words were lost to him.

The moment he saw Danny there waiting for him his stomach fluttered and he didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up the fight. He just wanted to enjoy seeing him again. Then they got home and things felt slightly awkward, but Sam couldn’t stay mad at Danny, and Danny seemed to tiptoe around Sam like he was afraid of the ball dropping at any moment.

Sam knew now was finally the time to figure out what to say to fix this, so he took a deep breath and began “I know that things have been a little bit less than ideal between us, but there’s still got to be room for us to try and smooth it out right? I did think about it while I was away, and I maybe went a little overboard. I know you and Jake are friends and I’m so glad you guys are, really. I want you to stay friends and I don’t want to get in the way of what you two have. Sometimes I just get jealous and possessive to the point it drives me a bit insane”. Everyone was well aware of his attitude quirks by this point, but somehow Sam seemed to be the last to know this about himself which made him chuckle a bit and shrug his shoulders. “I think it’s a Kiszka thing cause I know damn well Jake is a jealous asshole too”.

“So you’re saying you don’t want to break up then?” Danny’s mind was racing, this was far from what he expected when Sam got home. He had mentally prepared himself for a talk, but what he had prepared in his mind was more along the lines of trying to preserve their friendship, not their relationship.

Sam picked at his nails nervously, it was hard for him to admit that he was in the wrong, but for Danny he would take the hit. “I’m not sure I ever wanted to break up in the first place. I think I just said that to make myself feel like I had some control over the situation”.

That was hard for Danny to hear, because from his perspective Sam had all the control. Literally Sam could ask him to jump and he would respond simply with ‘how high?’ The guilt was also weighing heavily on him too. The guilt of what he’d done when Sam was gone and he was under the impression that Sam didn’t want to be with him like that anymore.

Danny swallowed that guilt down though, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Okay, so we’re going to give this another go then?”

“I mean, do you want to?” Sam replied, a bit of trepidation still lingering.

“Yeah,” he replied, but he was surprised by how unconvincing he’d sounded. Danny grabbed one of Sam’s hands and pulled it into his lap as he leaned in and raised his brows to try again, “I want to, if that’s what you want”.

So that’s what they decided, to stay together and try to work things out. Danny only hoped he’d hadn’t already ruined everything before he even got the second chance.

Jake arrived at the restaurant by 9am dressed in the nicest t-shirt he could find that wasn’t all cut up with a pair of jeans and his favorite leather belt. His uniform was stashed safely away in his backpack since he had no idea what the director had in store for them.

“Oh Jake, good morning!” The director seemed surprised to actually see him this early, but then again he also looked somewhat excited for whatever it was he wanted to show him as he jumped up from his seat and grabbed his keys off his desk.

“Morning sir” Jake responded, stepping aside as the director pushed past him out of the office.

“Well son, you coming?” He called back when Jake hesitated to follow him.

Jake turned around and stepped quickly to catch up as they left the restaurant and rounded the corner. “It’s a bit of a walk from here, you don’t mind do you?”

“Where exactly are we going?” Jake asked, trying to take in the street signs from each turn they made. In the handful of years he’d spent in Nashville so far he’d gotten pretty familiar with his directions, but new places and areas still mixed him up.

“Won’t make much sense till we get there, but first of all I guess you should know the rumors are true. I am retiring soon”.

“The rumor I’ve been hearing for years?” Jake chuckled light heartedly, not many people could feel comfortable cracking jokes around the director, but he never really felt that intimidated by him, mostly just open to learn from him.

He shared in the laughter, “yeah, well this time it’s true. Wife will kill me if I don’t go through with it this time. Thing is we’re moving to Costa Rica, selling just about all I have to afford retirement down there”.

“Costa Rica?” Jake raised his brows in disbelief. He’d heard of people retiring to Florida, or even Hawaii, but ever there.

“Ever been?” He asked and Jake shook his head. “God, it’s beautiful. We honeymooned there over twenty years ago. Been back about six times over the years, finally decided on our last trip two years ago that’s where we were going to end up. You know, I don’t have any kids, my brothers got plenty for the both of us, but they’re all a little delinquent. Can’t trust any of them with much let alone running a business”.

He was right, none of this was really making sense to Jake. Why was the director sharing with him of all people his retirement plans and this detailed information about his family? Then his mind started to turn faster and he realized, he’s moving away, he has no family or none that could potentially run the restaurant, and he said he was selling everything. Did that mean the restaurant was going to go under new management? He wasn’t sure how that would work, but the uncertainty of job security wasn't a comfortable thought.

“Well, here we are!”

Jake snapped out of his trailing thoughts to see they had come to a stop in front of a small abandoned shop with big windows and a large glass door facing the quiet street. “What’s this?”

“My first restaurant. Opened in 1996 and closed in 2019 for a total remodel of the kitchen but decided to keep it closed after the pandemic and it’s just been sitting here since. I have a few guys come in to clean it every few months or so, but other than that it’s just brand new appliances wasting away in there”.

Jake took a closer step, looking through the windows into the nearly empty interior, quickly finding what looked like the door to the back and the kitchen tucked away at the end of a long bar. What he’d do to get inside to take a look.

Just then, the director stepped up next to him and pulled his keys out of his pocket. He flipped through a few of them before settling on the right one, placing it inside the deadbolt on the outside of the glass door and twisting until it popped the door open.

He held the door, motioning with his free hand for Jake to enter first and closed the door behind them, latching one of the locks from the inside.

“So you’re selling this place?” Jake asked as he looked around at the few things that were left behind. There wasn’t much at all, but Jake actually preferred seeing it that way, because with an empty slate he couldn’t help but imagine what he would do with the space.

“Was thinking more of a lease to own. Depends on what the buyer can do”. He replied from where he’d stepped back, letting Jake take the lead on exploring.

Jake’s heart dropped, pulling his head out of the clouds for the moment it had drifted up there. “Oh, so you’ve already got a buyer?”

“Not exactly, but I’ve got the perfect person in mind. The only man I’ve ever met who I think could run this place like how I used to. Really make something out of it you know?”

“Can’t wait to see what they do. This place is nice” Jake replied, still letting his wide eyes wander around.

“You think so?” The director smiled fondly then started to walk towards the wall lined with tall mirrors and crystal shelves. “Want to see the kitchen now?”

Jake grinned and followed him again through the door at the end of the bar. “Now I know it’s not like the kitchen you’re used to. It’s smaller, still needs some updates, but it got the trick done for me all those years ago”.

“No, this is perfect” Jake looked around, reaching out to let his fingers trail over the stainless steel appliances. Even with the streaks left over from shotty cleaning he could still tell they were practically new, just waiting to be put to use and hopefully given love from the right person. “Smaller kitchen means you can move around faster. Have to learn to work with just the necessities, get back to the basics. Reminds me of home”. Jake grew up in a kitchen very similar to this. Far from new, but small and homey and a lot of his core memories were formed there learning to cook alongside his dad.

“This can be your new home”.

Jake stopped his exploring, turning to look at the director again with questions riddling his expression. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Like I said, I’m selling nearly everything, restaurant included. Last night I had dinner there with my financial advisor and a potential buyer. He’s got a lot of really cool ideas in mind that I think you will really like if you want to stay there. After seeing you in action last night he asked if you were coming with the deal. He wants to promote you to kitchen manager and eventually when he expands there would be another promotion in line for you”.

Jake couldn’t help but start to feel shy. He was always more comfortable talking about the technical aspects of his abilities rather than just simply taking compliments. Now here he was hearing from his current boss that his supposed future boss was so impressed with him after one night that he basically wanted to write his future at the restaurant into a buyer's contract.

“That’s option one” he added, smirking and leaning against one of the counters.

“Option one?” Jake replied, mirroring his movement to lean against the opposite counter and crossing his arms.

“Option two,” the director smiled again, clearly he was more excited about this option, “you buy this from me and run your own place”.

Jake stood silent. Of course he wanted to open his own restaurant just like his dad, but did he really have the means to do that right now? He knew from experience running a business, let alone a restaurant took a team, one that he’d have to trust. It seemed like just about everyone he trusted was on a path to leave Nashville soon.

“I don’t want to sell this place. I’m holding onto sentimental value at this point. I’d help you get into your feet, but it’s all yours to do whatever you want with it though. I just want to see it up and running again”.

Jake looked around the kitchen once more. Option one was the safe option, he’d be doing what he already was and with more recognition and authority, but he definitely liked the sound of option two better. “I can do whatever I want?”

“We will go over the details with my financial advisor, and I suggest you take some time to think it over, talk to your family about it. But yes,” he stood up and walked back towards Jake, stopping just in front of him and holding his hand out in an offer to shake on it, “whatever you want”.

Jake bit his lip with nervous excitement, but stood anyway and shook his hand.

“So, what do you think?” Sam questioned as Danny scrolled through the virtual tour of the apartment he’d mentioned in LA. “It’s only about thirty minutes to the beach too”.

“I don’t know Sam” Danny sighed, handing Sam his phone back and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was too early to be going back and forth about this, especially after the long shift he’d had last night and another long one scheduled tonight right after classes.

“Well,” Sam reached across Danny to set his phone down on the small night stand, “is there something I can do to help persuade you?” In the same movement he slid his knee between Danny’s legs and pulled half his body on top of Danny’s, trying to test out the waters of their shared physical space.

They’d had very little intimacy besides sleeping next to each other since Sam came back home, except a few kisses here and there. Sam initiated

another kiss. He found it weird that he was consistently the one making the advances this time around, but he figured it was due to the comment he’d made about wanting to feel in control. Maybe Danny was just taking a step back to give him that control.

He experimented by grinding his hips into Danny’s, but his body only went stiff underneath his. “Sorry, we don’t have to…” Sam pulled back, insecurity twisting its way into his mind.

Suddenly hands gripped his hips and his body was being rolled onto his back as Danny pressed on top of him this time and reconnected their lips. Sam let out a hum of content and let his hands roam the expanse of Danny’s bare chest as he kissed him back with more force this time.

“Danny?” Sam spoke again through a quick breath break in the kiss. “If you want to…” his voice trailed off as Danny stared down at him in silent question, “to me, if you want to you know… to me, then that’s okay”.

Sam’s face flushed a delicate tint of red when Danny realized what he was offering. Without a word of response Danny leaned back in to kiss Sam again with focused intention. He hoped he could kiss away his fear, kiss away his guilt, kiss Sam until his heart felt the relief he always thought it would in this moment.

With the intensity starting to slowly return, Sam hooked his leg around Danny’s hips and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “I think LA will be a fresh start for us. We won’t have anyone but each other for a while, but I don’t” Sam reached one of his hands down and tickled his fingers against the waistband of Danny’s pants, “I don’t need anyone else but you Daniel”.

Danny couldn’t stand it anymore, he pulled off Sam with a choked sigh and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands to shield his face for a moment while he gathered his racing thoughts.

He thought he could do this. Forget about that morning and what he’d done, and how good it felt. He’d hardly slept in a week though. Instead he’d stay up all hours of the night staring at Sam next to him and worrying. Worrying how he would repent for his sin, or when Sam would find out- because Sam always found out Danny clearly couldn’t keep a secret from him. He knew if Sam did find out before he told him then it would be so much worse, so he decided he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Sam,” Danny began shakily, taking a quick look back to see him sitting up now trying to figure out what was going on. “I need to tell you something. Just please promise me you won’t hate me”.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Sam started before Danny could get the words out. With the hesitation from him ever since he got back, and the way he’d nearly recoil away from him any time he got too close, Sam was afraid he already knew what Danny had to say.

“First of all, I thought you’d broken up with me” Danny turned back around, hoping Sam would hear him out without exploding. “I didn’t mean to… do anything. I was just really upset and went to Jake’s. We had a few drinks and-”.

“Stop” Sam demanded. Flinging the blankets off of him he reached over to retrieve his phone and then stood up from Danny’s bed. “I don’t want to hear the rest”.

Danny jumped out the bed as well and ran around to the other side, grabbing Sam’s hand to keep him there for just a moment longer. “Please Sam,” he pleaded again, “if I didn’t think it was over then I wouldn’t have gone over there. I don’t know why I even went to see him. I was just messed up, and it was fucked up for us to do that, but we’re good”. Who was he even trying to convince at this point? Sam? Or himself?

Sam pulled his hand out of Danny’s grip and avoided his gaze by looking down at the time on his phone screen, “got to get ready for class”. He grabbed the shirt and jeans he’d pulled off and dropped onto Danny’s floor last night before crawling tiredly into bed with him and made his way out the door.

Once he was in the hallway, just outside the bedroom, he paused. “Just so you’re clear this time,” he looked over his shoulder to make sure Danny was listening, his eyes betraying the strength in his voice with a red ring forming around the water line, “this is me breaking up with you”.

Sam couldn’t focus on a damn thing in class. All he could think about was how he was right every time he worried about Danny and Jake. To him it was obvious there was something there, but for some reason they were both trying to deny it.

Sam was furious, but he still understood that Danny loved him and had loved him for a long time. But unrequited love had to have an expiration date, and maybe his and Danny’s chance was long past due.

They had planned to get lunch today at their favorite cafe so Danny sat at a table by the window waiting to see if Sam would still show. When he didn’t, Danny headed back home to get ready for work. Sam wasn’t there either, but he could tell he’d been there earlier by his school bag sitting on the counter and a half empty pot of coffee.

He knew he would see him at work tonight, but that certainly wasn’t the place for the two of them to hash out their problems. He’d just have to keep it together the best he could.

Because Sam had skipped lunch, he was starving by the middle of his shift. He could go back to the kitchen to grab something really quick, but he didn’t want to see Jake. Instead he settled with the next best thing.

“Hey April, how are you tonight?” Sam slipped into a fake smile as one of the waitresses waited at the bar for drinks for her table.

“I’ll be good once I get these drinks” she exhaled as she set her tray down defeatedly. “I already messed up their order once, good thing Danny came over to help me because I was already behind”.

Sam’s smile faltered at the sound of Danny’s name, but he pushed on. “Oh, people make mistakes all the time, especially Danny” oops he let that one slip “you’re still a really good waitress”.

“Really?” April straightened up, her face brightening at the compliment coming from Sam.

“Oh yeah, I always thought so” he smiled wider, flashing his teeth and causing her to blush a little. “I bet you just need a little break. You know, I could use one too. My stomach is about to eat itself”.

She looked around, the bar was pretty slow, and all her tables already had their food thanks to the help. All she was waiting on was the drinks, but she still wasn’t sure it would be okay.

“Why don’t you go grab me something from the kitchen while I finish your order, then I’ll ask Danny to take them to your table and keep an eye out for you?” Sam added, trying to persuade her even more.

“You think he’d do that?” She asked, starting to be more convinced by the second.

“Hell yeah he will, he owes me one”. He owes me a lot actually.

“Well, alright then. Is there anything specific you want?”

“Literally anything! Like I said, I’m about to die of starvation over here”.

April giggled and left her tray with him at the bar as she went to gather whatever scraps she could find for him in the kitchen. With his plan accomplished Sam turned to get the drinks made quickly.

“What exactly has gotten into you?” Savanna asked, having seen the whole interaction between him and April just now.

“Whatever do you mean?” He replied with faux-innocence. He set one of the finished drinks onto the tray and started on the next, cursing to himself as he spilled grenadine all over the counter. His hands were shaking.

“You just played your charm on her, and you’ve been mixing shit drinks all night. I had to remake one of them earlier. Why?” She watched as he continued to haphazardly mix the sugary cocktail before sighed and pushing him aside. Grabbing the towel from her shoulder she wiped off the messes he’d made and hadn’t bothered to clean, then took out a few new glasses and started to finish the order for him. “Go, take your break, and when you come back you better have your shit back together”.

“I can’t promise you anything Savy, not tonight” he replied, letting his guard drop a little around her whom he used to be so familiar with.

She looked up from the drink she was mixing at the sound of the nickname he used to call her, surprised to hear him say it again, her own hardened front softening a little with him. “If you need to talk about it Sammy, I'm here for you”.

“Thanks”. He felt a little relief knowing someone still cared about him, someone other than the two who had betrayed him. “Maybe later?”

She nodded her head and pushed him away, letting him run to find April and pretend like everything was alright again as he ate.

The rest of the shift thankfully went by quickly when service picked up as more guests filed inside. Sam saw April more tonight than he usually did, guess Danny was avoiding him too. Now that he started his ruse, he had to keep it up and continued to lightly flirt with her. Even if he had absolutely no intention of doing anything with her, it was at least keeping him entertained and his mind occupied.

“Alright, out with it” Savanna confronted him as they finished up their closing duties.

Sam rolled his eyes. She was always a little pushy and forward, but he was not in the right state of mind to deal with it right now.

“You’re acting like the Sam I met before I got to know you”.

His eyes narrowed as he stopped his cleaning to cross his arms and cock his head. “What Sam is that? Maybe I’d like to get to know him?”

“Fuckboy Sam, and no, you don’t” she grabbed the towel from his hands and tossed it aside. “We’re done for tonight. Want to get a drink and you tell me what the hell happened?”

“Don’t really feel like going out”. Though a drink did sound like a good idea. “Don’t want to go home either”.

“Well,” she didn’t want to be the one to suggest it, but they both knew what the other option was.

“You got anything to drink at your place?”

Are you coming home tonight?

2:34AM

Savanna saw Sam check his phone when the text from Danny came through and watched him ignore it. Even if they had been drinking on her couch for about an hour, he still hadn’t told her what his deal was.

She knew it had to be something with Danny, and she couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled that their relationship wasn’t as perfect as they’d expected it to be when Adam left her for him.

“So,” she started after taking another shot with him, chuckling as he flopped back onto the couch, “are you going home tonight?”

“I can sleep here can’t I?” He asked with a drunken giggle, grabbing one of the throw pillows and pretending to make himself comfortable.

“Not unless you tell me what happened” she bargained with him, pulling his legs up onto her lap and starting to massage one of his feet. His favorite thing for her to do. It felt good to touch him again even like this, and he sighed with satisfaction as she dug her thumb into his heel.

“Why do you want to know so badly? Want to rub it in my face?” He let out a hiss when she dug her thumb even harder into his foot, jerking his leg from her and sitting up.

“Maybe you fucking deserve it Sam, leaving me like that and not even telling me the truth!” Savanna sat up too, turning her body towards him as she raised her voice a little.

“I did tell you the truth! I’m leaving for LA and I’m leaving alone so you can at least be happy about that!” He matched her energy, the alcohol coursing through both their veins and being exhaled through their breath adding to the thick cloud of tension poisoning the air around them.

“That doesn’t make me happy Sam! I don’t want you to be alone, I never wanted you to leave me!”

“Well I’m sorry! I never wanted to leave you either!” Words were spilling from Sam faster than he could think about what he was saying, if he was even capable of thinking about them right now. Faster than he could think about what he was doing either, he was pushing himself forward, meeting Savanna in the middle of the couch and connecting their lips together in a rough kiss.

Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, fingers digging in and clawing at his shirt until he pulled away and ripped it off before diving back in. “Fuck Sammy, I want you” she breathed out against his cheek as he trailed his kisses lower, yanking the top of her shirt down. “I never stopped wanting you”.

He growled when she thread her fingers through his hair next, tugging tightly as he kissed along the top of her breasts. “Stay here with me tonight.” She pleaded, pulling him by his hair back up into another kiss, “in my bed, stay with me in my bed?” The last part was more like a question, a question he answered by standing up and pulling her along with him. He kissed her again and wrapped his hands around her thighs to hoist her up. She crossed her legs around his hips and he carried her down the hallway and to the right into where he knew her bedroom would be.

After tossing her onto the bed, she smiled up at him and he watched as she stripped off her shirt and reached around to unhook her bra.

His eyes grew wide and she made a point to slowly drop the straps then held her breasts together with one arm while the other threw her bra at him. “Did you miss this Sammy?” She asked, spreading her legs and beckoning him to join her, “tell me you missed it”.

Sam crawled onto the bed, slotting his hips between hers and attacking her lips again. His hands, still shaking, reached up to grope her chest and she moaned into his mouth.

She felt good, she felt familiar, the problem was that it was too soon, too fast. That had been part of his problem being with Danny, it was everything happening one after another and now here he was again making the exact same mistake.

“Wait,” Sam pulled away but Savanna only reached for him again, pulling him back to her.

“I can’t!” Sam cried out, pulling away again, this time really getting her attention. “I can’t, I’m too messed up right now to do this”.

“Then why did you come here?” She grabbed a pillow from behind her and hugged it in front of her chest like a shield, waiting for his response.

“I don’t know” he sighed, sitting back as his head started to spin.

“Bullshit. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you came here!” She started yelling again, making his head start to pound.

“To get back at him!” Sam broke and yelled back. “To get back at him for sleeping with Jake while I was gone”. Even if that was the truth, he didn’t expect to actually still feel some way about her like he was. He didn’t want to hurt her again even if he was hurting.

Savanna stared at Sam in utter disbelief. She felt stupid for thinking for a moment that Sam actually still cared about her, instead he was just using her. “Get out! Get the fuck out and don’t ever fucking come back or I swear to God…”

Sam didn’t need to hear the rest of her threat, he got the gist and quickly left her room, stopping only to collect his shirt and shoes from the floor in front of the couch before making his way out of her apartment.

When the cold night air hit him, sobering him just a bit, he realized just how badly he had screwed things up. As frozen tears started to sting the corners of his eyes he pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked down the street trying to find somewhere to stay warm for a while and sent a text.

Can you come get me? I fucked up.

@twistedmelodies @psychedelicstardust-gvf @alwaysonthemend @heckingfrick

#Greta van fic #greta van angst #Greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf #janny gvf

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