#this screen shot has been on my desktop for half a year

[gar-trek]

many many months ago i sketched a picture of worf using a tablet and my computer instead of my iPad. i never finished it. that is all

[thegirlonpeetamellark]

Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone  - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done. 

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me. 

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight. 

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it. 

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket. 

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six. 

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins. 

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.” 

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?” 

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words. 

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down. 

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense. 

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room. 

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do. 

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him. 

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!” 

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN. 

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another. 

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.  

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.” 

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap. 

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now. 

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?” 

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.” 

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls. 

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.” 

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her. 

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother. 

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet. 

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears. 

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.  

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is. 

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep. 

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile. 

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm. 

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests. 

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms. 

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances? 

“Are we all done, doctor?” 

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence. 

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively. 

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks. 

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.  

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.” 

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece. 

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.  

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file. 

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality. 

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit. 

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.” 

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays. 

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy. 

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat. 

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth. 

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits. 

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them. 

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”  

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat. 

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury. 

She opens the door fully and glares at him.  

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses. 

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy. 

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits. 

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut. 

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely. 

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone. 

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.  

What. The. Fuck. 

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen. 

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him. 

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides. 

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family? 

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have. 

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...��� you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

.

part 2

[constantlyunlightening]

Warm Ups

Day 16: Thigh Riding w/ Kenma Kozume

Warning/Other kinks: Auralism (moaning over a discord call)

I'M ONLY ON SEASON 2 OF HAIKYUU SO IF MY CHARACTERIZATION IS BAD, WE PRETEND THIS DOESN'T EXSIST.

Okay? Okay.

Disclaimer: 18+ years or older to read. All characters are 20+

You didn't miss the cat eyes that landed on you as your voice leaked from quivering lips for the first time since you had straddled his leg. Didn't miss the jerk of his upwards jerk of his shoulder - the only way he had to remind you of the headset he wore with the mic fully tugged out. Well, it was the only way he could motion to them without actually taking his hands off the controller he was balancing with between them. You knew he was on a chat - that's why you had been biting down so hard on the inside of your cheek while you drew your hips over the length of his thigh. You were all too aware of the dangers of making noise - anything that that microphone of his picked up would be broadcasted to every friend the blonde was playing with but it was hard to be quiet when you were in a bit of a rush here. Kenma had put you on a time limit.

You were well aware of your partner's attention to video games. You knew how important his tournaments or whatever was - how much he had a tendency to fixate on them when they came up. And you were fine with that. You liked seeing Kenma pumped up about things - whether it was a video game or volleyball or anything, really. You especially liked it when he was hyper-fixated on you - but unfortunately for you, today the video games won out his attention. It didn't matter that you had been clenching your thighs together all day or that your hormones were wreaking havoc on your thoughts. It didn't matter right now because he had a team that was counting on him.

It didn't even matter when you had come up to him while he was setting up, trying to convince him to skip a warm up in game for a warm up in real life - you were sure you could get him real hot if you could take him to bed for a few. You could go quick - you promised.

He had leveled you off with a simple "no." Blunt and easy. But it had made you whine. 

You weren't going to force him to but -ah- you were burning up all day. And you knew as soon as he got on that game, you weren't going to be the center of attention for hours. You half debated having a tantrum, but the more logical part of your brain - the part that knew how much of a gamer head your partner was - settled for tucking your head down in disappointment as you gave a tiny sigh of defeat. "Fine," you had murmured, chewing at your own lip. You had already begun to turn when you heard a grunt of Kenma.

"... You can sit here for warm ups at least. But then I really have to focus."

Your pouting must have gotten to him. It was a bit surprising considering how hyper focused the man could get but he had a special kind of interest in you. So even when he had an important match coming up…. He couldn't abandon you completely when you were acting like a kicked puppy. So when your eyes snapped back to him, one hand patting his thigh that he had stretched out to make a seat for you, you felt yourself ignite. It was a scramble, tossing off your bottoms and climbing over his leg, feeling the muscles there underneath your wet slit as he started up the game. Too satisfied with the time he was giving you, you weren't even bothered by how nonchalant he seemed to be as you started to rock against him, gripping onto his shoulder and the back of the chair.

"How long is the practice match?"

"Depends. Could be five minutes if we work fast," he stated simply as narrowed eyes dropped down to spot the wet mark you made on his pant leg before they flicked right back to the screen. You didn't have time to protest or ask for longer by the time he pulled up discord on his desktop. "So don't be mad if you don't go fast enough. And don't make noise."

 And with that he entered the call, leading up to your current situation, grinding your body onto his leg with the same urgency a wildfire claimed a forest - hungry for more, desperate for kindling to strengthen the flames. You had a tight enough bite on the inside of your cheek to squash most of the noises, but a longer drag with his clothes dragging against your clit had caused the beginnings of an outburst and with his mic on and thoughts on the game, he wasn't about to tell you to shut up. A quick glance and a reminder of what would happen if you did make a peep was enough. At least thats what he figured as he quickly left you too it, shouting to the discord call that the enemy was coming from the left. 

Sure, you didn't want the group to hear…. But getting off was paramount. Especially when you heard Kenma say something about the final stretch. You had to go faster, and your hips dragged down onto him, letting one hand clamp down over you mouth to further muffle any sounds as pleasure coiled inside of you. And when Kenma - in his own brand of urgency- bounced in his chair, leaning forward to get a better look of the screen, your own body felt the jolt right against your clit. You were so ready to see stars. And every time his muscles tightened, tensed, each time he would jump or shift in his seat, you took the opportunity to push yourself further to your ends. Kenma looked scrawny, but all the years of playing volley ball did build up some sort of definition in his thighs, and it was driving butterflies into your stomach now even as he ignored the way you pressed against him. Not even the tiny meals starting to sputter from your lips were getting his attention.

Closer, closer, closer.

Then his team won. And Kenma gave another bounce -poker face or not, he still showed excitement with the rest of his body. That bounce, that push up against your needy slit was the final stretch you needed to "win." You were too busy seeing stars, feeling the euphoria rushing through your veins to realize the sound that came of your lips this time was Kenma's name  and - while muffled by the hand you were crying into - it certainly wasn't contained by any stretch. It was a cry that made Kenma freeze like a cat splashed with water, thigh tensing underneath you as you fell into his side with a melted body. You didn't notice how wound up he had become. You didn't notice the way his pants had tented with you whine.  You didn't hear the outcry coming from his headset. 

"What was that?"

"Kenma, is that-"

You didn't notice Kenma start scrambling to throw his headphones off his head and away from you - not until you heard the thud of them landing on the floor and your eyes fluttered up to look at the source of the noise with a blissed out hum, before you peered back up to Kenma through dark lashes. "Why did you do that?" You questioned, only to notice the color painting his cheek, his hand covering his mouth to try and hide his visage. He wasn't usually so expressive, but you had been a bit too preoccupied with your tingling nerves to realize how loud you had been - you were a bit too satisfied to realize why he could be freaking out. 

Face hot, eye twitching, he almost looked frustrated. Because of you? It wasn't like it was the first time you had come undone for him and usually he could keep more neutral than this, but maybe it was from the peels of laughter and shots of his name coming from the padded headphones that had been chucked away.

He swivled in his chair and was quickly exiting from the discord, making you sleepy cock your head to the side. "Your game?' You questioned as his computer screen went dark with a few pushes of buttons. He was trying to regain his composure but as well as he could hide it in his face, he didn't have the same luck containing the way his blood was rushing between his legs after having listened to you cry out for him. He hadn't even done anything, yet you got out his name like a needy little thing. No shame in letting all of his friends hear either. 

There was no way he wasn't going to stay on the mic and let the group mess with him over it. 

Besides, he wasn't exactly in the mood to concentrate on gaming anymore. His fixation has shifted. And without an answer to his question, he was shoving you off his lap, only so he could stand up and drag you off to the bedroom instead. He didn't want to think about gaming anymore. He was suddenly much more interested in hearing that pretty little voice of yours.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (6)

Heyyy guys! Sorry this has taken so long to get out. Even though I have a lot of chapters written, I’m in the process of overhauling some later chapters and I’m trying to make sure I don’t conflict anything in these earlier chaps. Also I’ve been sooooo busy :(

Also: if you haven’t seen my recent kim possible au, definitely check it out!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2307

Warnings: none that I can think of this chapter

% Approximately the 2nd week of October %

Monday you continued to shut down and deflect dumb rumors about you and Tom. The rumors had exploded over the weekend since some had noticed the way Tom pointed you out before his game and walked with you after.

But it was all innocent, right?

In home ec, you started a sewing project of making a pajama set. 

As always, Mrs. Flynn had tied it into the marriage project, requiring that couples sewed each others’ garments and made the fabrics compliment each other. If everything turned out right, the couples would have to wear them during their final presentations.

You laid on the floor over the fabric you’d chosen as Tom marked your hem length for the pants, the main part of the pattern already cut out.

“This Friday is your last home volleyball game, right?” Tom questioned as he rubbed chalk on the fabric.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? It’s been half of my school life longer than I’ve known you. Just like that, it’ll be pretty much over.”

“Have any big plans for your senior night, then?”

You sat up and got off the fabric so Tom could cut it.

“Well, I’m probably gonna do my hair and makeup since they’ll take pictures before the game, and then after we win I’m going out to dinner with my family. My extended fam is coming to town. If they weren’t gonna be here I’d drive over to the football game.”

You laid out the fabric for Tom’s pants and waited for him to lay on it, preparing to do the same as him.

The football game was against the other public school in your town, which was essentially your biggest rival, and this year it was at their field.

“You won’t get to see me win, princess? That’s just sad. I’ll be at your game for at least the beginning. I just have to be over there an hour and a half before kickoff, but it’s not till 7:30. My mom wants to shoot pics so you’ll probably see her.”

Tom laid down.

“Oh yeah? Based on the football pictures I’ve seen, I’m excited for her volleyball shots. By the way, how did the pictures she took this weekend turn out? I haven’t had real pictures like that taken of me since I was probably 3.”

You leaned forward to mark the fabric, but first had to move Tom’s leg to the right position.

“Haven’t seen them. She never shows me pictures until she’s done editing. I also can’t relate to the other thing. She’s had a camera pointed at all of us since the day we were born. I get it, though, it is her career.”

Tom got up and you both went to sit by the sewing machine you’d set up, pinning the fabric cutouts into individual pant leg tubes.

“Tell her I’ll be her subject matter any time, champ. I actually had a lot of fun doing it.”

“WIll do. And you’re really gonna stick with champ?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Kinda rolls off the tongue.”

By the end of class you’d both finished and tried on the pants, and you were surprised at how well Tom had done on yours.

Wednesday, you made the shirts, which, since they were custom made, fit just about perfectly, too. As per usual, you got an A.

%

Friday morning, you dreaded and looked forward to the afternoon. Like, yeah, you were excited to be recognized for your years of hard work, but you didn’t want it to be over either. 

You looked in the mirror, butterflies in your stomach. 

Since it was chilly, you wore some ripped skinny jeans and a dressy long sleeved top with pink flowers. Your hair was straightened and glittery makeup adorned your face. 

You were interested to see how people would react to the more traditionally “girly” side of you at school.

Even your parents were surprised to see you all dressed up as you said your goodbyes and headed out the door.

In the halls, people pointed and stared, but it wasn’t accusatory like the prior week. Instead, people complimented the look and congratulated you on the upcoming evening.

You walked into calculus, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you sat down next to Tom.

“Wow. Finally decided to go for it, huh?”

“Yeah, well. I thought about our conversation a couple weeks ago and decided to dress for myself. It’s been pretty well received so far.”

“Princess, I’m pretty sure people are gonna like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, preparing to reply when you were cut off by the bell and the start of announcements.

As your game got closer throughout the day, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You spent the entire free period talking to coach in her classroom to get your mind off the upcoming game.

“Y/n, I know you’re nervous, but this is going to be the best night of your entire volleyball career. I know you and know that you’re gonna crush it. That whole team looks up to you and Anna. I haven’t seen a pair of such magnetic personalities leading my team in years. I’m proud to call myself your coach.”

You gave a watery smile.

“Thank you, coach. I’ve loved having you mentor me these last four years. I promise I won’t just forget about you after tonight.”

“Well you better not. We still have regionals and state the next two weeks,” she joked. “Now bring it in, kid. I don’t want anyone seeing me be a softie.”

You quickly hugged. Once separating, she took on a serious face.

“Now go run along, eat a snack or whatever it is you do before games,” she said seriously, before cracking one more smile and tossing you a wink.

%

You stood outside the gym nervously, flanked by your parents. 

They were about to walk you out and present you for the final time. 

Anna was walking through the gym now with her parents and siblings as people cheered in the stands, and there were nervous flutters in your stomach.

Finally, someone waved you along. You stepped into the large gym and saw the massive crowd cheering and clapping. All of your friends and family were in the stands.

You also noticed Tom in the crowd. He wasn’t overtly clapping and yelling like everyone else, but he did put up a thumb and shoot you a wink when you made eye contact.

As the announcer listed off things from the senior night sheet you had filled out, you found yourself holding back tears, thinking about all the memories you had of the sport.

A few slipped out and you quickly wiped them away so Nikki could come take a couple pictures of your family.

After the announcer finished up, your parents went to join your extended family in the stands as you warmed up on your home court one last time.

After winning the first two sets, you sat on the bench, ready to win one last one as you noticed Tom slip out the gym, giving one final wave.

You quickly pushed his absence out of your mind however, when you got behind the back line and put an ace down on the first serve.

%

Sam opened his front door for you the next day.

Of course, you had won the night before, shed a few tears, and enjoyed the time with your family, who you’d said bye to before going to the Hollands’.

“Hey, y/n. Good game last night. You and Anna crushed it.”

“Thanks, Sam. Julia was amazing, too. Without her, we’d never have good passes to set and hit.”

Sam agreed and talked to you for a little bit when you thought of something.

“Oh, hey. Where’s your mom? I wanted to talk to her.”

“Um, I think she’s in her office. Let’s go check.”

He led you to a part of the house you’d never been, and sure enough, Nikki was sat in front of a large desktop computer, a picture of you jump serving on the screen.

“That’s an incredible shot!”

She startled a bit and turned her chair to face you.

“Oh! Y/n, you scared me. Come on in! I was just going through the pictures I took at yours and Tom’s games last night. While you’re here, let me show you the ones I took last Saturday.”

She minimized the tab she was working on and pulled up a file, the first picture being a black and white shot of you looking down at a notebook, writing.

“Woah. That’s beautiful,” you breathed, looking at every little detail.

“Thank you, that means a lot. You can scroll through them all, if you like. I’m going to go find Tom, I think I heard him and Harry arguing not too long ago.”

You chuckled as she left, looking at each photo. Some she kept in color and others were in black and white. You stopped on the picture of you and Tom laughing at each other.

Your faces were lit up in genuine happiness, and you felt a pang in your chest as you burned the photo into your memory. You quickly changed it when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey, sorry. Harry was being an ass. You like the pictures?”

“Yeah, they’re incredible. I’d love to have some of them.” you said, scrolling through the last few.

“I’ll ask her to put some of those on the flashdrive she’s making you. She was planning on just putting all the pictures from last week to tomorrow on one if you’re good with it.”

“Oh, yeah. No rush. Ready to go upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied as you picked up your backpack from the floor and followed him. He continued. “So I hear you guys won last night. Way to end on the best note possible.”

“Yeah, it was a bittersweet night. What about you? I never heard anything about the game.”

“Oh, we won. Not much to it, but it was a tough game.”

Tom closed the door behind him and immediately went to his desk. He pulled out a piece of chocolate and tossed it to you as you sat down.

You worked together for a while, then decided to take a break, just sprawled across the floor on your backs a couple feet apart.

You glanced over at Tom, who was messing around with his necklace.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s with your necklace? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take it off.”

Tom was quiet for a few minutes, rolling his plastic ring in his fingers.

“My grandad, my dad’s dad, gave it to me a few years ago before he passed. It’s just a saint’s symbol for protection. It was basically his way of saying he’d always be there for me. He was one of the best people in my life, and I wear it to remember him. It also helps me stay grounded sometimes, when I’m anxious or sad.”

You listened intently and looked at Tom for a while, who was just staring straight at the ceiling. There were tons of questions racing through your head, but you narrowed them down to one.

“Why did you put your, uh, ‘wedding’ ring on there, then? I don’t feel like I deserve to be next to him.”

Tom smiled and let out a breath through his nose, then looked right at you.

“Well I definitely wasn’t going to wear it on my finger. At first, I did it just to piss you off, because I could tell that you didn’t like it. But… I don’t know, I just… kept it as a reminder of everything we’ve been through. We still call each other enemies but honestly, I’ve started to consider you one of my closest friends.”

You scanned his face, grinning slightly. Over the past week and a half his bruises had pretty much faded, a little bit of yellow lingering around his cheek and his lip pink with new skin. 

You noticed his hand close by and laid yours on top of it, stroking your thumb over the tops of his fingers.

“Yeah… yeah,” was all you could manage to whisper out loud. 

After a few moments, Tom flipped his hand, pressing your palms together and curling his fingers around yours. All you could manage to do was stare at each other in silence, unsure of what to think or how to act. 

You were startled out of it when there was a knock at the door. Your hands quickly pulled away from each others’ as the door creaked open and you sat up. It was Nikki.

“Sorry to bug you two, but I was just gonna come ask what time would be good for you tomorrow, y/n? We need enough time to get there and take the sports pictures during the day but I think golden hour would be perfect if you wanted to bring another outfit and take regular pictures.”

“Okay, yeah. Whatever time you think. I’m free all day.”

“Well I was thinking we leave here by two so we get there at three and have plenty of time before it gets fully dark around eight. My parents would love to have you for dinner, too.”

“Sounds good with me. I’ll make sure to pack a dress or something to change into.”

“Alright, well I’ll let you get back to it, just wanted to ask before I forgot again.”

Once she shut the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You looked to Tom, who seemed just as uncomfortable about everything as you were.

“Okay then, let’s finish up,” you suggested, waking your computer back up.

%

A/N: once again, so sorry it has taken this long to upload ch 6! I’m so excited for y’all to see ch 7 tho like I literally love it. Anyways, I really want to get on a more consistent upload schedule but I also want this story to be the best it can be and school is making that so hard rn

Don’t forget to check out my new work and hopefully I’ll have another one-shot out soon, too!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series tag lists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads 

[shianhygge-imagines]

Playing the Game {Devil May Cry} x {Among Us}

AN: So, I’ve been playing a lot of Among Us in my down time. My old coworkers from Uniqlo (haven’t worked with them for around a year and a half now, love them to bits though) have been inviting me to play full games. And because everyone else seems to really love the Among Us content on Tumblr now, I figured, why not? It’s easy enough to write something for it.

So, anyways, this is actually a one-shot instead of a headcanon. And there are technically no pairings. Reader was written Gender Neutral as well.

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

27th September - 04:58pm - Devil May Cry

It’s a miracle that everyone happened to be in the same place at the same time when Patty barged into Devil May Cry with a cart full of laptops. Dante had gone to hide as soon as his Patty senses tingled, practically pulling off an acrobatic feat just to get to the second floor in time. Curious as to what the young lady wanted, you put your book down and stood to help the blonde mortal with her burden.

“It’s good to see you, Patty. Dante’s currently expelling his stomach lining in the bathroom.” From behind you, both Vergil and Nero snorted at your comment while V quirked a brow at your antics. “Were you looking for him?”

“Yeah! I found a new game we call all play!” Patty lifted a small laptop, presenting it to you. “We can all play it if we have enough players… but um… I can wait until Dante’s out of the bathroom. Is he okay?”

Taking the laptop, you waved nonchalantly with a grin. “Oh, he’ll be fine. It was just a week old pizza. He’ll be down once he’s done! Until then, take a seat at his desk!” You take your seat between Vergil and V on one of the couches, opening up the laptop to glance blankly at the only desktop icon on the screen, then at the bar at the bottom showing that was connected to the internet already. “Is the game called ‘Among Us’?”

Patty nods with a hum, opening her own personal laptop up. “It’s an online multiplayer game. You play as a space crew, walking around the map completing tasks in the form of mini games. All crew members have to complete their tasks to win the game.”

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Nero scoffed, peering over your shoulder at the computer screen when you opened up the game. Kyrie and Nico also joined him in taking a peek.

“Yeah! Each game has anywhere from one to three imposters.” Patty informed, nodding her head as she explained, beyond ecstatic that you were seemingly interested in playing. “The imposters look like crew members, but their job is to sabotage or kill the crew, preventing the crew members from winning. Imposters have a little menu that they can use to turn off lights, or shut doors. They also have an advantage of being able to enter vents to escape an area. Imposters win when they’ve cut down crew member number enough. To weed out the Imposters, crew members can report any bodies they find or press the emergency button on the map once per player to have a meeting. From there, players can present evidence of a player being innocent or guilty of being an Imposter, and the crew can vote whoever they think is ‘Sus’ or suspicious off the ship.”

“So it’s a game of skillful assassination and deceit.” Vergil summarized, now slightly interested in participating.

“Perhaps a bit of patience and being able to read others.” V interjected, closing his book to shoot a judgmental expression at Vergil… one that the elder Sparda twin gladly returned with a haughty smirk. It’s nice to know that even if V was once a part of Vergil, they still feel disdain towards one another.

Patty thinks for a moment, her blue eyes observing your group by the couch for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess it is! Gotta be careful though, because Imposters can self report their kill… but they also have a kill countdown… but even if a crew mate is killed, they can still roam the map completing their tasks as ghosts. Obviously though, if you die, you can’t tip off who the Imposter is to people who are alive. Once Dante’s back, we’ll have a few practice rounds before doing an official round.”

“Count us in.” All heads in the downstairs area turned as Dante descended the stairs, Lady and Trish behind him. “Bunch of hunters like us? It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Official Round Start

When the first official game started, you were all seated in various locations of Devil May Cry’s first floor, laptops in your laps and noise cancelling headphones on. The front door was locked, sign flipped to read ‘CLOSED’ so that nobody interrupted the series of unfortunate events unfolding within the shop.

There were ten players in total: You (Purple), Dante (Red), Vergil (Blue), Nero (White), Kyrie (Cyan), Nico (Green), V (Black), Trish (Yellow), Lady (Orange), and Patty (Pink).

When the countdown finished, and your screen went black, you schooled your face until it was carefully blank. Well, well… this will be fun. You decide when the screen informs you that you and Kyrie are the Imposters. Discreetly, you and Kyrie glance up to look around the room before winking at one another and directing your eyes back down to the computer screen.

The map that Patty had chosen was the Skeld with two short tasks, two normal tasks, and one long task.

Starting off in the Cafeteria, you moved down to Admin, following as Vergil, Dante, and Nico went to do their tasks in the room while you sat at wires, watching until one of them moved. Walking out just as the task bar went up, you headed down and right until you were in Shields.

You watched as Nico and V passed you before moving up towards Weapons, where you saw Trish downloading files. Quickly, you walked behind her and clicked the Kill button before venting, popping up in Navigation just as Kyrie knocked out the lights.

Deciding to take the risk, you went into the other vent in Navigation and popped out at Shields again, moving out of that hallway to Storage, pretending to empty out the trash just as Vergil passed you by with Dante at his tail, making deliberate and erratic movements. Just as you are about to Sabotage Comms, a meeting is called, and you notice that V was killed along with Trish. Shrugging, you take off your headphones with everyone else.

“VERGIL’S SUS!” Dante pointed at Vergil with a grin.

You could practically see Vergil’s last thread of patience snap, “If anyone’s suspicious, it was you!”

“Kyrie and I found V’s body in the Cafeteria right after the lights were fixed.” Nero announced, interrupting his father and uncle to look at V, who just sighed heavily and took out a book, refusing to make any facial expressions to help the Crew… and ignoring the superior stare that Vergil aimed at him. Well, this is going to get tiring really quick, isn’t it. You deadpan at their interactions, hoping that they would just warm up to one another already.

“Well, I can account for Lady, Dante, and Y/N.” Vergil sighed, lips thinning in displeasure that they were two down already. “Lady was already fixing lights, and Y/N was coming from the east side to do the garbage… Dante has been following me the entire game.”

“Did anyone happen to see where Trish’s body was? Or where she headed off to from the start?” You asked.

“Trish headed to MedBay while Kyrie and I went to the Engine and Reactor.” Nero piped up, “I didn’t see her for the rest of the round.”

“Okay…” Lady mumbled before her heterochromatic eyes landed on Patty, who jolted from the older woman’s intense stare. “Patty, where were you?”

Patty paused to think, “When the alarm was sounded, I was with Nico in Security.”

“Can confirm!” Nico nodded with a ‘humph.’

“But before that, I went to Weapons to shoot asteroids, looped back into Cafeteria to go down to Storage to do a task there. I was just behind Y/N as they headed off to the right side… and then I went left into the Lower Engine before meeting up with Nico.” Patty concluded.

“Are we going to vote this round?” Vergil wondered, eyes fixed upon the timer countdown. “Or should we skip?”

“Hold on, Vergil.” Lady raised a hand before continuing to stare down Patty. “So you were the last one in the Cafeteria?”

“Um… that I know of?” Patty raised a brow, “But that was like at the beginning of the round.”

“So, you could have killed V at the very beginning.” Lady’s eyes narrowed, “That’s a bit suspicious.”

“So… voting out Patty?” Nico asked, seemingly convinced. “We could wait, but…”

“I voted already.” Lady chimed.

“Done.” Vergil confirmed.

“Well, if we’re sure…” Nero shrugged.

“Wait! That’s jumping wayyyy too into conclusions!” Patty protested. “There were a lot of people near the Cafeteria. They could have done it during the black out.”

“Nah, a lot of us were accounted for.” Dante clicked his tongue before turning to look at Patty. “Sorry, Patty.”

You and Kyrie had already voted. The only one who didn’t vote for Patty had been Nico.

Patty screamed in frustration before falling silent, “You all suck!”

Patty has been ejected.

“Nico, why didn’t you vote?” Nero questioned his mechanic, “You’re the one who asked to vote Patty out.”

“Sus-pi-cious~~~” Lady sang quickly before you all put your headphones back on.

The next round, you watched as Vergil, Dante, and Lady headed off to the right side before dancing back and forth in front of Nico and Kyrie, asking them wordlessly to follow you to the MedBay. When Kyrie followed me, Nero followed after her.

Once all four of you were in the MedBay, you pretended to complete a task while Nico got a med-scan. Almost all at once, you Sabotaged the MedBay doors as well as O2 within a few seconds before you and Kyrie got a double kill, getting Nico and Nero both at once. Both of you took the vent into Security before killing the Lights, walking down together to Electrical, where you turned the lights back on. Just as you were about to exit the room with Kyrie, you two encounter Dante, Vergil, and Lady.

Noticing that the cooldown had ended for the Kill button, you clicked on it, watching as your character stabbed Vergil’s in the back with a knife. It seemed that Kyrie had the same idea, as Dante was dead once the animation was over.

The screen went black and you and Kyrie cheered, throwing ‘air-fives’ at each other from across the room.

Everyone took their headphones off, shocked as their eyes trained upon you and Kyrie.

“What… the hell.” Nico muttered.

“I TOLD YOU GUYS IT WASN’T ME!” Patty screamed at everyone in the room, slumping in her seat and pouting.

“That was scarily efficient.” Dante groaned, staring at you and Kyrie with a new light.

Nero groaned and buried his face in his hands, “I knew there was something odd going on when we lost one another by the upper engine when the lights went out.”

“Hehe.” Kyrie laughed sheepishly, patting Nero on the shoulder. “Oops?”

“Y/N! I trusted you!” Nico wailed, looking as if cartoon tears would be streaming down her face if possible.

Raising a single hand up, you grinned and made the sign for ‘Victory.’ “I guess you guys just can’t underestimate us, then!”

“Another round.” Vergil demanded, glaring at you with a challenge in his eyes. “If I’m Imposter, you won’t be able to escape me. And if you’re the Imposter… then you won’t get the drop on me twice.”

You all grinned, and clicked on the ‘play again’ button. “Challenge accepted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[banrions]

i didn't know you were into rwby! that's so fun :)

i just powered through all of it after avoiding it for literal years for (some reason? i guess bc i don’t think i like anime?) thinking it was not for me. alas, fandom friends’ who’s opinons i trust and which media i usually also enjoy all suddenly put a lot of it on my radar again and i went, ‘you know, i haven’t been able to watch/concentrate on... any media, lately, that’s not kinda still a little into critical role, missing dimension 20 a little, listening to naddpod and compelled duel d&d podcasts, and... rewatching drag race.’

i have not been able to even catch up on shows i previously loved. i dunno what it is (yes i do it’s a pandemic and time isn’t real and i’m living with my parents and unemployed and the only real thing bringing me joy rn is my two year old neice who is here all the time) but my concentration has been SHOT. every time i try to do anything but read a book i mostly just stop. so i was DELIGHTED when this sucked all my energy and i LOVED it.

i love everyone!!! like, actually everyone!! that’s p rare for me. i latched onto blake right away bc i’m sorry, cat ears! i simply cannot. WEISS my precious lil bean who does not know how to talk to ppl, YANG, A LITERAL RAY OF SUNSHINE, winter, who hits allllllll my narrative buttons. and then also, literally everyone else. i’ve barely been on tumblr lately, bc each new update is trying to personally drive me crazy and make how i specifically use this site (re: on desktop, with xkit, usually as half a browser page open while i watch/do smth else on the other side of my screen) nigh impossible. but i’m having.... um, trouble restraining myself from reblogging literally every post i come across.

so.

sorry abt that. but also. i’m not sorry at all. it’s bringing me a ton of joy.

i am v happy to be here<3

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! - A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 1 

FF.net link - AO3 link 

Beep Beep. beep Beep. Click

8:00 am. Hisoka rolled over in his queen-sized bed, groaning at the interruption of his beauty sleep. Setting an early alarm after editing until 2 am was a horrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and rolls onto his back, following his ritual of checking all his notifications in the morning. The video he had uploaded after editing was well received, many comments about how he should try more looks with purple eyeshadow. About 3 years ago he had started his channel “Bubblegumbitch Makeup” as more of a throwaway joke after someone insulted his makeup on Instagram. However, an audience grew quite quickly, and Hisoka had to admit that he enjoyed the attention and luxury of it all. Making money by sitting in front of a camera and applying Makeup while people tell you how good looking you are is a great ego boost.

Half-heartedly he scrolled through his subscription feed, just to see what his competition was up to, though barely anyone had really uploaded during the night. Amateurs and their 'healthy' sleep schedules. A true influencer knows that an audience never sleeps.

 He disregarded his phone somewhere into the pile of pillows that make up his bed and made his way into the bathroom. His morning showers are more functional than enjoyable, quickly rinsing on whatever spirits of sleep may linger on him.

After that, the Makeup artist applied his usual morning creams, body lotion, towel dries his hair, and threw on a pair of grey low-waist sweats and a comfortable white razor-back shirt. Need. Coffee.

 Hisokas flat was a quaint little thing just outside of Rieti. An open imitation marble kitchen, facing the living room equipped with a black leather couch and wall mounted flat screen TV, opening to a relatively small balcony housing a few plants.

Exiting his bedroom, he grabbed the TV remote and switched unto a random morning news show, just needing background noise while he waits for his coffee to brew.

"And preparations are running wild for the annual Fashion Week in Rome. This year the line-up features many new promising designers from all over the globe. Tune in at 10 for more-"

The fashion week! Hisoka grinned, having nearly forgotten about this important event that he had always followed closely. Though rarely attending himself, he had been requested on multiple occasions as a make-up artist for certain models. But there was something more important connected to that special week. He grabbed his fresh cappuccino and strolled back to his room, fishing his phone from the depths of pillow mountain.

"Hisoka: Gooooood Morning! Roma's Fashion Week is coming up, are you going to stop on by? ~"

It didn’t take long before his phone chimed with the familiar Ping of a private Message.

“Bellissimo <3: I will be going to the Show for 4 days. If it proves convenient, I’d drop by for a short collaboration.”

“Hisoka: I’ll be keeping my bed warm~♥️”

“Bellissimo<3: Gross and unnecessary. I will book a room in my usual hotel in Rome. I’ll drop by for the Collaboration on Monday afternoon, and leave after.”

“Bellissimo<3: I will send you some sample pieces later, please come up with a look for one of them, and don’t just ‘wing it’ like last time.”

Hisoka giggled before disregarding his phone again. Illumi Zoldyck, breakthrough Fashion Designer from England, and eldest son of Zoldyck fashion magazine empire, who often uploaded videos of his artistic process on his channel “I. Zoldyck Fashion”. They had met 2 years ago, at a smaller Paris fashion show, the first one Hisoka ever attended. A model had requested Hisoka as her makeup artist, while Illumi had been working on a dress for her, and the two of them ended up working closely together to properly coordinate colours with each other. And though Illumi expressed great annoyance with Hisoka, they exchanged numbers, and started to make collab videos whenever they fell into the same place. Something about working together with Illumi got Hisokas heart racing. Seeing the camera-shy man get increasingly more frustrated with his antics was a joy that could hardly be topped.

But he didn’t have time to dwell in good memories and spine-tingling anticipation. He had work to do. And so once again he chucked his phone back into the pillow-cave system and made his way into his recording room.

It was a small office space, on one side an office Desk with a Desktop Computer, a couple of small succulent plants framing it, and a comfy black office chair. On the other side a set-up to record videos, with a white-pink gradient wall, a stainless white desk with a small mirror standing on it, and a less-comfy stool to sit on. In a smooth motion, Hisoka downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup aside, and started the camera. The night before he had laid out everything for his next video, a review for a new eyeshadow palette released by another Beauty Youtuber, still trying to get into the game. How Cute.

Hisoka clapped his hands together, putting on his best camera smile. “Hey, Scum! ~ Today I have a very special treat for you all. I got my hands on the new Togari Palette ‘Hunting for Your Dreams’, his first release.” He held up the shimmering silver case and opened it up for the camera to reveal 6 eyeshadows in various shades of orange and red. About half an hour and a couple try hard glamour shots later, Hisoka dropped the Palette with a grin, staring directly into the Camera. In addition to his signature Star and Teardrop under his eyes, he had attempted to imitate a flame-inspired eyeshadow look. “Well, this has been an absolute disaster. I feel like I’m losing clumps of eyeshadow every time I blink, and it feels sandy and irritating on my skin. But you have got to give it to Togari: I have never seen a Palette that features colours that are eye-biting and yet completely bland before. Though the surprise gift of a long, brown hair inside the sealed Palette wasn’t for me. But you know, if you see these Palettes in your local bargain bin, I’d say go for it.” He gave a cheeky wink, before rattling off his usual goodbyes, like and subscribe, yadda yadda.

Click.

Hisoka took the camera and set it by his computer. Before he could even think about editing, he must wipe away whatever the hell was in that shabby palette. Of course it wasn’t the worst make-up he had ever worn; it probably wouldn’t even make it in the bottom 10, he wasn’t here to make friends and spoon-feed his competition compliments. If a creator dares to churn out a subpar product, they have to deal with the consequences.

After practically subjecting himself to water torture via make-up remover towels, the man grabbed another whiteclaw from the fridge, and settled into his office chair. Digging through business emails was a boring, repetitive task, deleting promo-email after promo-email, practically begging him to promote some skin-care vitamins or boring phone app. Clicking the nails of his free hand against his desk, he tapped away at the delete button in a rhythm only known to him.

Finally reaching the bottom of his inbox, he switched to his private Inbox with a satisfied smile, an expected email already waiting for him. “From: I. Zoldyck: Roma Fashion Week Promos”.  To my private Email, dear Illumi? How shockingly Intimate~ Hisoka mocked in his head while opening the mail.  

“Hisoka.

Attached are 3 Designs I plan to show off at the show. Chose one for the collaboration and let me know in time.

Sincerely,

Illumi Zoldyck.”

Under his signature, 3 files were lined up, boringly titled “Design Roma 1/2/3”. Hisoka opened the first file and is greeted by a 2-piece suit with a light pink base colour, and blue-green flower highlights that frame the pockets and seams of the jacket, and the belt of the pants. Not bad, not bad.

The second file contained another 2-piece suit, this time with a black base colour, and a repeating roman-vase pattern in eye-catching blues, pinks, and oranges. Lovely pattern, and what a revealing jacket cut~. He was sure he had found his favourite, already planning a matching make-up look. But it wouldn’t hurt looking at the last design for pity, right?

Hisoka audibly gasped in a mixture of shock and flattery and laid a hand over his heart to complete the star performance. Staring back at him was a beautiful white-jeans design, patterned with colourful card-suits dotting the jacket and pants. The pattern was ever so slightly washed out, faking a vintage look. This is it. Mine. His heart was beating through his chest, and for the first time in a while he was truly speechless.

He had 3 more weeks until the show, but his mind was already bursting with inspiration, and when he later laid in bed, he couldn’t contain his grin as he texted.

“Hisoka: You already know which one im choosing~♥️♥️♥️”

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

Gon had been streaming for a good hour or so, talking excitedly to his chat about the new Season of Fortnite, admiring new skins that he was definitely going to try and get. Every new pass just meant a new challenge for him to prove himself, and it was undeniable that it was satisfying to work and game hard to get what he wanted. Just as he was about to ask chat if he should go another row, or change games for the night, a discord message drew his attention away.

“Kil: Yo, wanna team up? :p”

Filled with even more excitement, Gon returned his attention back to his stream. “Everyone, today we are going to feature a special guest!”

[thelastspeecher]

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do.  And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted.  So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort.  Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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              “Mr. Pines?”  Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through.  He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

              “What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly.  Devin chewed on his lip.

              “I, um…”  Devin took a breath.  “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

              “…Yes, I do,” Shermie said.  He leaned back in his chair.  “How did you know that?”

              “Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

              If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

              “And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued.  “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently.  “So she told me to- to use this.”  Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk.  “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper.  It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page.  The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

              “Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice.  He cleared his throat.  “Do you need this back or-”

              “No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies.  Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said.  Shermie nodded.  “Are you upset?”

              “What?  No! No, I’m not.  Just surprised.”  Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner.  “And thankful.  Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”  Devin nodded jerkily.  “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

              “Right!  Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!”  Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom.  He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

              “American Pauper Marries European Princess”?  That’s…how did Stan do that?  I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely.  He’s not refined at all.  Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture.  There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife.  Guilt trickled into Shermie.  Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended.  It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan.  Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess.  But still…

              “Hi, Mr. Pines!”  A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts.  He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

              “Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice.  He shook off the guilt and regret.

              I have to focus.  My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is.  He managed a half-smile.  Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

----- 

              When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer.  A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

              Lirone?  I’ve never heard of it.  Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances.  Then again, I’m not a geography teacher.  He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

              “In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding.  Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

              “What exactly are you doing?” she asked.  Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

              “I know where my brother is.”

              “Well, yeah, so do I.  He does research in Oregon.”

              “No, not that brother.  My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said.  Amelia frowned, confused.  “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

              “Oh!  And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

              “Yep.  That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour.  I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

              “But now you know where he is.”

              “Yes.  One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said.  Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

              “Oh, that can’t be good.”

              “No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good.  It’s astounding.  Stan married a princess.”  Amelia’s jaw dropped.  “That was my reaction, too.”  Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family.  “I need to talk to him.”

              “Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently.  Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents.  If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

              “I…”  Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard.  “…You’re right.”  A weary weight settled on his shoulders.  “He has resources available to him.  If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me.  But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head.  “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me.  I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-”  Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Don’t blame yourself.  You did what you could.”

              “Yes, but-”

              “Maybe he just needs time.  I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

              “Maybe,” Shermie mumbled.  Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room.  Shermie got up from the computer.  “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

              “Sure thing,” Amelia said.  She kissed him on the cheek.  Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up.  He glanced back at the computer.

              Amelia’s right.  I need to let Stan make the first move.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to.  I am still his big brother, after all.

----- 

              Shermie turned on the news.  For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth.  He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

              But that’s not what’s important at the moment.  What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin.  Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

              “Amelia, would you mind?” he called.  The phone stopped ringing.  He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone.  The news segment changed.

              “In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said.  Shermie leaned forward.  “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws.  However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.”  A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden.  Shermie smiled.  “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.”  The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

              What?

              “Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room.  She held out the phone.  “It’s for you.”

              “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

              “It’s Stan.”  Shermie’s head whipped around.  Amelia nodded.  “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?”  Shermie held out his hand.  “That’s what I thought.”  Amelia handed him the phone.  Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

              “…Stan?” he croaked.

              “Yeah.”  At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up.  “Yeah, it’s- it’s me.  Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath.  “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

              “I know.”

              “Wait, you do?” Stan asked.  There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call.  “Danny-”  Stan said something in a foreign language.  A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue.  “Non.”

              “Apr-”

              “Non,” Stan said, more firmly.  He barked out an order, still not speaking English.  There was another muffled commotion.  “Sorry about that,” Stan said.  “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

              “I know.  Being a father is difficult.”

              “You know about-”

              “Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said.  “I know you married a princess, who became a queen.  I know that you have twin daughters.  And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.”  Stan was quiet for a moment.

              “How?” he finally asked.

              “One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married.  I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

              “I…”  Stan seemed at a loss for words.  He finally let out a small laugh.  “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.”  Shermie smiled.  “Ford had no clue.”

              “Stanford is brilliant.  But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

              “Yeah.  You’re right.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

              “The news just mentioned that.”  Shermie leaned against the back of the couch.  “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

              “I didn’t.  Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford.  Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

              “Really?  During such a tumultuous time?”

              “Yep.  It didn’t go well.  I, uh, I actually kicked him out.  But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling.  I’m calling to…”  Stan took a breath.  “Invite you to the castle.”  Shermie sat up straight.

              “Wait, what?”

              “It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family.  I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

              “But you don’t want them know Pops?”

              “Oh, hell no.  If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

              “Smart move.”

              “But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie.  They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.”  Stan paused.  “And…I wanna see you, too.  It’s been a long time.”

              “It most definitely has.”

              “So you’ll visit?”

              “Of course!”

              “That’s- that’s great.”  Stan sounded relieved.  A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call.  “I gotta go.  But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

              “You won’t be-”

              “I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said.  Shermie’s heart sunk.

              Right.  He’s a king consort.  He has more important things to do.

              “We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details.  I really- I really gotta go.  There’s a debriefing and-”  Stan cut himself off.  “You don’t need to know about it.  All right, bye.”

              “Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded.  Shermie looked up.  Amelia had joined him in the living room.  She raised an eyebrow.

              “Well?” she asked.  Shermie let out a long sigh.

              “It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

----- 

              Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

              “I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything.  “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself.  He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy.  His mouth went dry.

              That was a mistake!  Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses?  They can get anything they want.  He took a deep, calming breath.  Relax.  It’s going to be fine.  He resumed looking out the window.  While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle.  Shermie swallowed.

              The town car came to a stop.  Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

              “Thank you,” Shermie said.  The driver merely nodded.  Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside.  He turned to the driver.  “Do you know where Stan is?”

              “The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said.  Shermie turned around again.  A man strode over.  He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes.  The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake.  “The name’s Lute.”

              “Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked.  Lute grinned.

              “Yep.”

              “I recognize the name.  As well as, to be honest, the nose.”  Lute laughed.

              “I’m not offended, don’t worry.  The royal nose is large and distinctive.”  He blew his dark bangs out of his face.  “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

              “That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

              “You mentioned it as well.”

              “Fair,” Shermie said lightly.  The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him.  Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

              “What’s in there?”

              “I-”  Shermie rubbed the back of his neck.  “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.”  Lute was silent.  “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses.  They can get whatever they want.”

              “Pfft.”  Lute snorted. “Not quite.  Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes.  But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled.  Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you.  When you give them gifts?  They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.”  Shermie smiled back hesitantly.  Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open.  His mouth went dry.  A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

              “Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks.  Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan.  Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

              “Hello, Stanley.  It’s good to see you again.”

              “Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Um, come- come inside.  If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

              “That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned.  “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death?  Or be attacked by bears?”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me?  No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure.  Whatever you say.”  Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

              “Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

              “Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly.  Stan let out a laugh.  Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked.  “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

              “That’s a high bar, Sherm.  They loved it when Ford was here.  I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.”  Stan looked Shermie up and down.  “They’re gonna be disappointed.”  Shermie rolled his eyes.  Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle.  “No use delaying their disappointment!  C’mon, Sherm.”  Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look.  Stan stopped at the door to look back.  “I’m a king, Shermie.  I can have you court-martialed.”

              “You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother.  If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

              “Fine.”  He sighed in an exaggerated manner.  “I won’t court-martial you.”

              Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 7

A/N I’m going to start posting once or twice a week now. Give me time to work on the future chapters and make them great for you. But now, it’s time to meet the Allens!

Kate fidgeted in her seat, waiting for the few cars driving down the road to pass so she could cross and go down her street.  Chris was sitting in the passenger seat looking at his surroundings.  She lived kind of in the middle of nowhere.  There were woods surrounding the road they were about to drive down.  She slowed down near the fourth, well spaced out mailbox and pulled into the driveway there.  

The brick rancher sat in a large clearing.  Where the garage door used to be was a set of dark oak French doors with beautiful stained glass windows in the top half of each.  The main entrance to the house was a single door similar to the French doors at the top of a wide porch.  It was a wide dark oak and the stained glass was the entire middle of the door and on either side were long, thin stained glass windows.  There was a large picture window in the middle of the house with jewel blue and chocolate brown curtains covering it.

Peeking out from those curtains were two dogs that Chris recognized as Denali and Galway.  They were barking madly as Kate parked and turned the car off. “Home sweet home.” She said. “We’ll go in my doors here so we can get our bags in safely.” Chris collected his bag and grabbed Kate’s two bags as well.  She had her purse and carryon bag and was unlocking the French doors.

“These are pretty.” Chris said, admiring the doors.

“Thanks.  I actually picked them out.  And the front door.  It was a mother’s day present from me, my brother, and my step dad.”

“You’re the only car here.  Where is everyone?”

“Work, probably.  We got here earlier than planned.” Kate set her purse and carry on bag down on the leather recliner. “Well, this is my little garage apartment.” In the front was the recliner and a matching sofa set up in front of a 50” Samsung flat screen Smart TV.  The TV was surrounded by a custom TV center made up of two floor to ceiling bookshelves, a row of cubbies above the TV, and an entertainment center below the TV.  The bookshelves were stocked with all kinds of books, photo albums, and DVDs and BluRays.  The entertainment stand was neatly organized with a desktop computer CPU, a Playstation 4, a Direct TV box, and a charging cradle for the Playstation controllers.  Through the glass doors, he could see more DVDs and BluRays.  The cubbies above the TV held knick knacks, stuffed animals, and picture frames.

In the middle of the room were the two large, folding screens with famous landmarks from England, France, and Italy painted on them.  They extended from each wall, creating a wall of their own with a large gap in the middle that served as a doorway to the bedroom.  Between the screen and the TV center was a small refrigerator and a counter with a microwave.

Behind the screen on the left was Kate’s queen sized bed with her stuffed Thumper sitting in front of the pillows.  On the opposite wall from the bed behind the screen on the right was a large, custom closet set up that extended from floor to ceiling.  There were small, shallow drawers for jewelry and larger, deeper drawers for clothing on one side.  In the middle were two large doors that opened to the wardrobe.  On the other side were shelves for shoes.  On the top of it were cabinets for storing bags and other things.  A folding footstool sat between a small flight of stairs and the shelves so Kate could climb up and collect things from the top cabinets.

The small flight of stairs led to a short hallway with two doors, one straight ahead with a small doggy door and one to the right.  The one on the right was Kate’s bathroom.  It wasn’t large, but it had a nice floor to ceiling shower, a good-sized vanity and a toilet.  The door at the end of the hallway led into the main house.  To the left was a step down into a utility room where the washer and dryer was along with a door to the backyard.  To the right was the den with a fireplace and a custom built desk that extended across the far wall.  There was a large and a small archway on one wall.  The smaller archway led to the kitchen while the other led to the living room.  

They didn’t make it past the den, though, because Denali and Galway were on them.  They begged for love from Kate, rubbing against her and barking.  When they noticed Chris, they both abandoned Kate to get love from the stranger in their house.  Chris got down on his knees and played with them.  Kate watched them for a few seconds before she went to the dining room to see if she had any mail on the table.  A wall that stretched halfway across the house separated the kitchen from the living room.  The dining room sat at the end of the wall, connecting the kitchen and the living room.

A hallway led from the living room to the three bedrooms and the bathroom.  Her parents had the master bedroom, her old room, which was the second largest room, was now a guest room slash office, and her sister Janice’s room was the smallest room.  The bathroom was a large bathroom with a stand up shower in one corner and a large, deep Jacuzzi tub in the other corner.  There was a long vanity with two sinks and the toilet sat in a space between the vanity and the tub.

“Come on, guys!  Go outside.” Kate said to the dogs as she rifled through her mail.  The dogs ran ahead to the utility room and bolted out the door into the large, fenced in backyard as soon as she opened it.

“This place is nice.” Chris said behind her. “You grew up here?”

“Yeah.  We moved in my sophomore year of high school and haven’t left.” She gestured at the yard where the dogs were running. “This whole area was terrible.  Overgrown and there were tree stumps everywhere.  My step dad has really fixed the place up over the last fourteen years.  The next thing on his honey-do list is the kitchen.  Mom wants new cabinets and a new dishwasher along with a new refrigerator.  She’ll probably get a new sink and new countertops, too.  Complete overhaul.  Come on, Gally!” Her Boston terrier ran back in the house while Denali continued running around the backyard. “I don’t like to leave Gally out there.  There’s a bald eagle that’s tried to take off with her a few times.”

“Shit!”

Kate picked Gally up and the pooch settled in her owner’s arms cradled against her chest, trying furiously to lick Kate’s face. “I know it’s a felony, but I will kill that bird if it harms one piece of fur on my baby.” She kissed Gally’s nose and set her back down on the ground to follow her and Chris back into Kate’s room.  She flopped down on the bed and sighed. “I have missed this bed.” Gally climbed up the pet stairs on one side and marched up to the head of the bed, laying down on one of the pillows.  Kate watched her and shook her head. “Spoiled brat.”

Chris sat down on the bed and laid back. “Wow.  This bed is comfy.”

“I told you.  It’s definitely more comfortable than yours.”

“Well, I still can’t judge that.  I haven’t slept in it yet.  Or done anything strenuous to test it out.” He rolled up on his side and ran his hand over her ribs. “I mean, we’re alone right now….”

“Travelling doesn’t take it out of you?”

“Are you tired?”

“A little bit.”

“Too tired for….” Chris was cut off by Gally walking up and licking him on his nose.  Kate burst out laughing and Gally snuggled herself by Kate’s head.  Chris laughed and rubbed the Boston’s belly. “Spoiled brat is right.”

Kate pushed Gally towards the edge of the bed. “Go lay on the couch.” Gally hopped down and trotted over to the couch with a huff. “Am I too tired for what?”

Chris leaned down and kissed her deeply, running his hand up her shirt.  He was about to climb on top of her when a loud banging came from her front doors.  They both shot up, smacking their heads together in the process.  Gally started barking madly at the door, jumping up and down in front of it.  A moment later, just as they finished putting themselves together, Kate’s step-dad unlocked the front door and walked into her garage apartment.

“Katie!  You’re home early.” He said in his Southern drawl, petting Gally as she jumped up on the recliner to be loved on. “We weren’t expecting you until this evening.”

“Yeah.” Kate smiled at her step-father. “My flight was booked so we took an earlier flight together.”

“Who’s we?” He was looking Chris up and down.

“Papa, this is Chris.  Chris, this is my papa Bill.”

“The Boston boy.” Bill nodded, still looking highly suspicious of Chris. “We’ve heard a lot about you.  Mostly from her brother.”

“I’ve told you about him.” Kate insisted.  Bill just grunted. “Ok, papa, you’re very intimidating.  Good job.  Chris is intimidated, aren’t you Chris?”

“Yes.” Chris said.  He wasn’t entirely lying.

“You’ve done your fatherly duty, now be a normal human being for once in your life and be nice.”

“Where’s the fun in being a normal human being?” Bill asked.

“It’s completely underrated.  Try it sometime, you’ll see.”

Bill held his hand out to Chris and Chris shook it, wincing slightly at the pressure the older man was putting on. “I’ve been to prison before, son, and I’m not afraid to go back.  Don’t hurt my daughter.”

“Papa!  Ok, out.  Leave.  Goodbye.  I’ve got to get unpacked.” Kate hustled her step-father back out the door.  Gally followed him out, but he shooed her back inside.

“Call your mother and let her know you’ll be home for dinner…. With a guest.”

“Ok.  Love you.” Kate shut the door and shook her head, muttering to herself. “I am so sorry, Chris.”

Chris chuckled, petting Gally between the ears. “It’s ok.  Has he really been to prison?” Kate shot him a look that told him her step-father was dead serious about that one. “Oh shit.”

“Don’t worry.  Asshole McGhee is still walking this earth.  So, you stand a chance against my papa.” Asshole McGhee was the name she’d given her ex that had cheated on her and nearly ruined her life.

“Good to know.  Are you sure I shouldn’t get a hotel?”

“I’m sure.  It was part of the agreement with my parents when I paid to renovate the garage into an apartment that they stay out of my business.  This is my apartment, that’s their house.  He doesn’t usually just barge in like that.”

“Extenuating circumstances?”

“Like me meeting someone in Boston on a trip by myself and wanting to make sure I’m not dead or suddenly have a pimp?  Yeah.  That’s his definition of extenuating.”

“So, you paid to renovate this place?”

“Yeah.  I took out a small loan for it.  I just finished paying it off earlier this year.”

“What happens when you decide to move out?”

Kate shrugged. “They’ll probably add a small stove and rent it out for more than they’re charging me.”

“They charge you rent?”

“Well, sort of.  It’s kind of a roommate set up.  I pay a portion of all the bills.”

“Oh.  Sorry, I don’t mean to pry into your finances.”

“It’s ok.  I’m going to start unpacking.” She handed him the remote. “Make yourself comfy.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Later that evening, Chris was watching a Golden Girls marathon while Kate was stretched out on the couch beside him with her head in his lap.  She’d fallen asleep and had stayed that way for almost two hours now.  He didn’t mind.  He happily stayed still and stroked her hair, running his fingers gently through the golden mass.  She hadn’t styled it, so her naturally wavy hair was on display.  He decided that he liked it better that way.

A knock at the door in the short hallway disturbed Gally’s sleeping form on the back of the couch.  She shot up, barking, and jumped down on Kate’s hip.  Kate yelped and curled into a little ball, glaring fiercely at her dog as she ran for the door.  She sat up, rubbing her hip, and looked around.

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“About 5:30.” Chris said.

“Wow, I was out.” Kate stood up and went over to answer the door.  It was her mother. “Sorry, I was asleep.  Gally, hush!  It’s just Granny.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early.  I would’ve come home early, too.” Helena said, hugging her daughter tightly.

“I meant to call you, but I fell asleep.  But I’m glad we got here early so I could unpack.  Now I can show Chris around tomorrow.” Helena spotted Chris standing up from the couch and let out a startled noise. “Mom, this is….”

“You think I don’t recognize Captain America?”

“This is Chris.  Chris, this is my mom, Helena.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Chris said, shaking Helena’s hand. “Kat talks about you a lot.”

“She talks about you, a lot, too.” Helena replied.

“Mom!” Kate’s face was turning a deep pink.

“What?  You do.  How did I not know that your Boston boy was Chris Evans?”

“Quit being rude.  And you didn’t know because I didn’t tell you.  Also, you don’t pay attention to the internet.”

“I did see a story on Facebook yesterday about Chris Evans being at a game with some blonde girl.  I didn’t think for a second it was you.”

“Thanks.”

Helena shrugged. “The pictures weren’t that great and I can’t see great anyway.” She looked at Chris. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Chris smiled. “I know this isn’t the most orthodox thing on the planet, but I really do like your daughter.  A lot.  I hope that we can get to know each other and I can prove to you that I’ll make a good partner for her.”

Helena nodded. “You’re polite.  That’s good.  I won’t grill you too hard right now.  I think we’ll have time for that later if you’re spending the week.  Right now,” She looked at her daughter. “I don’t feel like cooking tonight.  Let’s go out somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m tired of eating out somewhere.” Kate said. “I’ll cook, if you want.”

“If you want to, but I’m not helping.”

“You say that every time and every time you wander into the kitchen and nitpick.”

Helena shrugged. “So what are you making?”

“I don’t know.  Dinner.” Kate turned to Chris. “Do you wanna run to the store with me and we can pick something out?”

“Sure.” Chris smiled. “That sounds great.”

“Ok.”

“Take your sister, please.” Helena said as she headed back for the main part of the house with Gally hot on her heels.

“What?  Why?”

“Because she needs to do something besides work and watch TV.”

“Mom, you have tomorrow off and you can make her do all the things then.  I am not spending twenty minutes combing the store trying to find her because she’s roamed off somewhere.  I just want to get the groceries and get back.”

“You’re being mean.”

“No.  I’m being practical.  If you want to eat dinner on time, then Jan stays here.”

“Fine.  Have it your way.” Helena disappeared into the hallway and the door shutting came a moment later.

“Sorry.” Kate turned back to Chris. “Jan has this thing where she roams off everywhere we go.  It’s a real pain in the ass when she does it at Target or Wal-Mart.  I once spent forty five minutes searching for her at Target.  And don’t get me started on taking her to the mall.”

Chris shrugged. “I didn’t think you were being mean.”

Kate grabbed her purse off the recliner and pulled her keys out. “Mom is always quick to defend Jan.  Especially from me.  Like I said, she still thinks I’m that misguided teen who was angry and took things out on my little sister.” She sighed as she opened the front door. “This week is going to be so much fun.”

“I think it will be.”

“You haven’t met Janice yet.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate had decided on salmon steaks, rice, and a roasted vegetable medley for dinner.  She’d had to get a chicken breast for her sister because Jan refused to eat the salmon.  Chris sat in the living room talking with Kate’s parents while she cooked.  Jan wasn’t very engaged in the conversation.  Her eyes were glued to the TV as they usually were.  Gally was sitting in Chris’ lap demanding to be petted while he talked.  Denali would come over and nudge him for attention, but Gally would manage to get his hands back on her.

When dinner was about ready, Chris offered to set the table.  Kate directed him to where everything was located and he kissed her cheek every time he walked by.  Helena came in and checked on the food for about the dozenth time, nodding her approval at her daughter’s cooking skills.

“We got pie for dessert.” Chris announced as they sat down at the table. “Key lime.”

“It’s the kind you like, papa.” Kate added.

“I don’t like key lime.” Jan said.

“Then don’t eat it.”

“Kate.” Helena warned.

“What?  No one is forcing her to eat the pie.”

Helena rolled her eyes and looked at Chris. “Usually I would ask you what you do for a living, but that seems like a stupid question.”

“Why?” Bill asked.

“He’s Captain America.”

“Oh.”

“You liked ‘Snowpiercer’, papa.” Kate reminded him as she passed him the bowl of rice. “Remember?  You watched it a few months ago.”

“That’s the one on the train, right?”

“Yeah.” Chris said.

“So that was you, huh?  That was a good movie.”

“Thank you.”

“Mom was a theatre major in college.” Kate said to Chris. “I can’t remember if I told you that.”

“Yeah.  You mentioned it.” Chris looked at Helena. “What college did you go to?”

“Southern Illinois University.” Helena said. “They had a good theatre program.”

“Were you on stage a lot?”

“I liked the backstage work more, but I did a few plays.”

“I guess Kat gets her creative side from you?”

“She gets it from both her parents.  Her father is talented in his own right.” Bill snorted and Helena shot him a look as he scooped up a large helping of veggies.

“Mom won’t say bad things about my father.” Kate explained, a forkful of salmon on her way to her mouth. “She still thinks it’s wrong to speak badly of him in front of her kids.”

“I’ve got plenty of things to say if you want to hear them.” Bill said, shooting his daughter a mischievous glint.

“You’ll do no such thing, William Allen.” Helena said.

Chris looked over at Kate and she smiled slightly. “I took his last name after I turned eighteen.” She explained. “It used to be Loewenthal.”

“That’s a mouthful.” Chris said, seemingly demonstrating by shoveling a mouthful of rice into his mouth.

“Yeah.  People have never pronounced it right.”

“Her father wouldn’t sign the papers to let her change her name when she was younger.” Helena said. “She had to wait until she was old enough.

“Kat told me about everything you guys went through.  I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thank you.  So you’ve seen some of Kate’s pictures?”

“Yes, ma’am.  She showed them to me in Boston.  They’re amazing.”

“She does have a good eye for it.  Katie’s always been creative.  From the figure skating and the dancing to the plays she did in high school and now the pictures.  She really loved to be on stage, though.  The military base near here has a playhouse and they put on ‘Cinderella’ last year.  She tried out for the lead role and was sure she wasn’t going to get it because she thought she was terrible at the audition.  She ended up playing Cinderella every weekend for about six weeks.”

“Do you remember when I did ‘Grease’ that one summer back home in Kentucky?”

“Was that when they condemned the theatre?”

“Yeah.” Kate looked at Chris. “The place was really old and needed to be torn down, but for some reason, they let the theatre company do ‘Grease’.  They had marks on the stage where it wasn’t a good idea to stand because you might fall through.  And a good portion of the marks we were supposed to hit were right over or right next to the bad marks.  The whole play was us hopping around and trying not to fall through the stage while singing.”

Chris laughed. “That must’ve been a sight.”

“I’ve got a video of it.” Helena said. “We converted our old VHS tapes to DVDs about a year ago.  I’ll have to dig some out for you.”

“I would love that.  Thank you very much, Mrs. Allen.”

“Oh, call me Helena.  I feel old when people call me missus.”

“It’s because you are old.” Bill said. “You’re two years older than me, Mr. Allen.”

“I admit that I’m old.  Catch up.”

Kate saw Chris smiling at her parents’ banter.  She took his hand under the table and he turned that smile on her. “Usually papa isn’t so reserved.  Give him a couple of days and he’ll be at the table in just his underwear and turning everything said into a sexual innuendo.”

“It’s a gift my husband has.” Helena said. “Some things he says you just sit there and wonder how he got from point A to point Sex.”

“He also wins the lottery a lot.  But only scratch offs.  Never the Power Ball or anything.”

“My luck doesn’t work with that.” Bill said. “I don’t know why.”

“Slot machines are goldmines for him, too.” Helena added. “We went to Las Vegas and left with more than we came with.  I saved money for the trip and he took twenty dollars of it and paid for the whole trip with that twenty.”

“Nice!” Chris said. “What’s your secret?”

“It’s no secret.” Kate said. “He has a golden horseshoe jammed up his ass.  Which I better inherit when you bite it, old man.”

“You’ve got to dig it out if you want it.” Bill retorted. “I’m not getting it for you.”

“I’ll just get the undertaker to haul it out.”

“He’ll probably steal it for himself.”

“Nope.  I’ll be there taking pictures.”

“What about your brother?  He’s first in line.”

“He makes six figures a year and I’m pretty sure he’s CIA.  He doesn’t need a golden horseshoe.”

“Your brother is CIA?” Chris asked.

“I think he is.”

“He’s not CIA.” Helena said.

“He’s secretive about where he goes.  He can’t talk about most aspects of his job.  And he knows too much about things I can’t explain how he knows about them.  He’s definitely CIA.”

“That’s kind of terrifying.” Chris said.

“Right!?  I’ve been trying to get him to fess up, but he swears he’s not.  I just say the brother doth protest too much.”

Chris looked over at Janice who had been quiet this whole time. “Janice, are you close with your brother?” Janice just shrugged.

“Don’t be rude, Janice.  Answer him.” Helena said.

“Not really.” Janice said.

Chris tried again. “Kat says that you like movies.  What are some of your favorites?”

“I don’t like superhero movies.”

“That’s not what he asked.” Bill snapped.

“Bill….” Helena started.

“Helena, there’s no reason for her to be so rude.”

Janice let out a loud huff and stood up from the table, storming off back to her bedroom and slamming the door.  Helena closed her eyes in frustration and Kate shook her head. “Sorry, Chris.” Kate said. “She’s uh…. Well, I told you she’s a handful.”

Helena started to get up, but Bill stopped her. “No.  Let her sulk.  We’ve got company and she doesn’t need to be out here if she’s going to act that way.” He looked over at Kate. “The food is delicious, baby.  I love it.”

“Thank you.” Kate said, happy that her step-dad had relieved the sudden tension. “I saw the recipe on Pinterest and wanted to try it.”

“You and your aunt.” Helena said. “You’re always on Pinterest.”

“Oh, like you’re not?” Kate shot back playfully. “Don’t forget I’m friends with you on there.  I’m pretty sure you have ninety eight percent of the recipes on Pinterest pinned to your food board.”

“Eighty two percent.” Helena said with a laugh. “There’s some on there that are just plain silly.”

“Kat said you learned to cook in France.” Chris said. “That’s really cool.”

“It was one of the many places I learned.” Helena said. “My brother was stationed in Germany and I spent the summer with him a couple of times.  I met this old French woman while visiting Paris and she invited me to come to her house because I loved food so much.  I ended up living with her for a month while she taught me all kinds of things about cooking and baking.”

“Helena has lived a remarkable life.” Bill said. “But her best moments are when she’s asleep.”

“Bill….”

“Has Katie told you that her mother sleep walks?”

“No.” Chris said.

“Here we go.” Helena said.

“Our dog Ireland used to sleep on my side of the bed and she would nudge my hand to get me to pet her in the middle of the night.  One night she nudged me and when I went to pet her, she wasn’t there.  I didn’t think much of it and went back to sleep, but she did it again.  So I opened my eyes to see her staring up past me with a weird look on her face.  I look over and Helena is standing spread eagle against the wall like she’s being patted down by the police.  I said, ‘Helena, what the hell are you doing?’  She didn’t even look at me.  She just said, ‘Never mind.  Go back to sleep.’” Chris started laughing and Bill joined in.

Helena rolled her eyes. “I think they’re making it all up.”

“No.  You’ve scared the shit out of me with your sleepwalking.” Kate insisted. “I woke up one night when I felt someone staring at me.  You know that creepy feeling you get?  Well, I opened my eyes and she was right over me.  When I said her name…. Mom, not her actual name…. She said, ‘Don’t fight the nuns.  They’re going to kill you.’  Then she just stood up straight and walked out.  I was scared to even move.” 

Chris’ hand was holding his chest as he laughed. “Oh my god!”

“I was just trying to protect my daughter.” Helena said.

“I’ve been terrified of nuns ever since.” Kate joked. “Thank god it didn’t happen when I was going to Catholic school.  That would’ve really fucked me up.”

“I don’t think Katie inherited that from me.”

“I didn’t.  I just got the insomnia and the restless legs.”

“I keep telling you to go to the doctor about that.”

“I don’t see how those sleep studies work.  I sleep bad enough as it is.  Hooking me up to a bunch of machines and filming me isn’t going to make me sleep better.  There’s no way the data is accurate.”

“My mom has RLS.” Chris said. “She hated the sleep study they did on her, but the medicine they gave her has helped.”

“Does it make her tired?” Helena asked.

“It knocks her right out.”

“Mine does, too.  Katie picks on me at night when we’re watching a TV show and I start falling asleep.”

“It’s to keep you from saying something in your sleep that will traumatize me.” Kate said.  She smiled as Chris and Bill started laughing.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris crawled into the bed in just his underwear as Kate finished up in the bathroom.  They had stayed up kind of late watching home movies of Kate performing on stage and skating.  Watching her skating videos had given him an idea.  While Kate was at work Monday, he would have to look into making that idea come true.

Kate walked down the stairs and smiled at him. “That’s a good sight.”

“Hmm?” Chris asked, snuggling deeper into the bed.

“Chris Evans in my bed.  I guess Princess Aurora was right.” She climbed in next to him.

“What was she right about?”

Kate pointed at the little wooden sign hanging by the stairs.  It had the silhouette of Aurora dancing with Prince Phillip and in pretty scroll letters next to it, it said, “If you dream something more than once, it’s sure to come true.”  

Chris chuckled. “Well, we are comparable to Phillip and Aurora.  You said so yourself.”

Kate laughed. “Once upon a dream.”

Chris pulled her to him. “What did you dream about me doing in this bed?”

“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.”

He laughed. “You’re quoting the movie.”

“Of course I am.”

“I do love that movie.”

“Me too.”

“So, tell me.  What does dream Chris do that I need to live up to?”

“You really want to know?” 

“Oh, I really want to.” He nuzzled her just behind her ear, making her sudder.

“Well, in one dream he finds a pair of handcuffs that I own and uses those on me.”

“Kinky.  What about specifics?  What exactly does he do to you while he’s got you restrained?”

“Hmm…. There’s a lot of teasing with his mouth.  Sometimes he has a beard and sometimes he’s Steve Rogers clean.  I prefer the beard because it can tickle and scratch at the same time.”

Chris moved her hair away from her neck and started kissing her shoulder and neck. “What about with his hands?”

“Oh, he uses those too.  I’m pretty sure there’s not one inch of my skin that isn’t touched by him.”

He reached down as far as he could and ran his hand up her thigh, over her hip, and across her ribcage before cupping her breast as he bit down lightly on her shoulder. “What else?”

“Um….” It was getting hard for her to think clearly with his roaming hands and his erection pushing into her backside.  She could feel the slight movements against her as his hips pumped almost imperceptibly. “God…. Uh…. He spent a lot of time between my thighs.  Biting and sucking and licking…. Jesus, Chris, I can’t even think right now.”

Chris pulled her onto her back and moved over her, attaching his mouth to her right breast.  She let out a moan as one of his hands snaked down her stomach and dipped below her underwear.  He made an almost purring noise when he discovered how wet she was for him.  His fingers began to lightly swirl her clit, teasing her, as he moved his lips down her body.  Before he reached her thighs, he looked up and grinned.

“Hold onto the headboard.” He said, voice husky. “Don’t let go until I tell you.” She reached up and gripped two of the slats of the headboard.  

He smiled and went back to kissing, licking, and sucking his way around her thighs as he worked her underwear down her legs.  Once they were gone, he spread her legs out and rested them on his shoulders.  His tongue flicked out over her folds and she writhed under him.  He gently raked his nails on her hips as he gripped them to hold her still.  She held on tightly to the headboard as he sent bolts of pleasure throughout her body.  Just as she felt the first waves of her orgasm start, he pulled his mouth away.  She let out a squeak of disappointment.

“What happens next?” He asked, moving back up her body.

“Uh….” She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. “In that dream…. I don’t know.” He shot her a confused look. “I wake up before the next thing.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to adlib.” He looked at her body appraisingly. “How much flexibility did you maintain from figure skating?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.” She smirked up at him and he chuckled.

“Oh, I intend to.” Chris sat up on his knees between her legs and reached behind him to grab her ankles.  

Instead of keeping them spread once they were in front of him, he held them together and braced them both on his left shoulder.  He leaned forward until her knees were touching her chest.  She moaned when he pushed deep inside of her, the angle making her feel full of him.  His pace was slow and steady, bordering on torturous.  Their grunts and moans were almost in sync with each other.  When he wanted to pick up the pace, he sat back up on his knees and spread her legs to either side of him, holding her knees against his ribs.  He picked up the pace and was pleased to see that she never let go of the headboard.

“I thought…. you were…. going to…. test…. my flex…. ability.” She said, between thrusts.

Chris grunted and pulled out of her, dropping her legs. “You can let go of the headboard now and get on all fours.” She did as he asked, moving slowly so he could enjoy the show.  Once she made it on all fours, he lifted her left leg up behind her and rested her shin on his shoulder.  He was impressed that she didn’t even flinch. “How far up can I push this leg?”

“Well, I used to be able to reach behind me and pull it up behind my head.  I don’t think it would go that far now, but try for a ninety-degree angle.”

He scooted closer and her leg went up, her toes pointing at the ceiling.  He had to lean back slightly to enter her from behind, but when he did, the sensations were incredible.  The angle was so different than anything he’d ever experienced before.  She’d never tried this position before, either.  They both couldn’t hold back the noises that escaped their lips.  He felt her flutter around him and then seize down on him suddenly.  She cried out into her pillows as he picked the pace up through her orgasm.  Her hands dug into the covers and she collapsed down off her hands to her elbows.  The new angle pulled him in deeper and soon she was coming again.  When the last of her second orgasm began to fade, he felt himself about to go.  She squeezed her pelvic muscles and he yelped, spilling himself inside her.

They laid on the bed staring at the ceiling and panting.  Both of them were covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  When they looked at each other, they both started laughing.  He pulled her to him and she laid her head on his chest.

“How’s your leg?” Chris asked.

“Stretched and ready to go.” She answered. “The other one is a little jealous.”

He patted her right leg. “Next time.”

Tag List:

@joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jamielea81 @southerngracela @kelbabyblue @introvertedmouse @tfandtws @sullyosully @deidrahouseofpain @lovinevans @ajosieface

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 271

Last time, Super Buu nearly broke the universe, but Vegito punched him in the face, so it’s okay.   Meanwhile, King Yemma is watching this fight on a big screen TV.    Well, it’s probably one of those projectors like they use in office conference rooms, but it looks like a big screen.   It would have been kind of funny if it was like one of those projector deals, though, and they spent like two episodes trying to get it set up.   Then they sort of get it working, but they can’t make the sound work in full screen mode, so they have to window open and you could see all of Yemma’s desktop icons over on the left.  

Anyway, Yemma credits himself for things working out this well.   Goku wouldn’t have stood a chance against Majin Buu by himself, but thanks to Yemma, he now has Vegeta to fuse with.    All of the oni who work for him give him a standing ovation.

But Baba’s not all that impressed, since she always saw Yemma as a big dumb guy who sits around all day stamping papers.  

So, back to Buu, he’s taking a deep, calming breath to calm down from the last episode.   I’m not sure why he’s bothering, since he’s in the middle of a losing battle, and he’s got a short fuse to begin with.  

Vegito eggs him on, so he tries to attack again, and it doesn’t work.  

But Buu can put himself back together, so it kind of seems like a stalemate.   What difference does it make how much stronger Vegito is if Buu can regenerate indefinitely.  

But Vegito’s still holding on to Buu’s head tentacle, so Buu wants him to toss it back so he can reattach it.  

So Vegito does, but then he shoots it in mid-air, completely annihilating it.   That seems to freak Buu right out.

Vegito threatens to do the same to the rest of Buu, adding that if all of Buu was destroyed in one shot, even he couldn’t regenerate from that.

So Buu has no choice but to grow a new head tentacle.   Well, if he could have done that, why did he want the old one back?   I’m assuming the point of all of this is that there are limits to Buu’s regeneration powers.   We’ve already seen him get destroyed and reformed  several times.   One time he did it to himself.   But usually, it takes a great deal of effort to hurt Buu that badly, whereas Vegito inflicts that sort of damage almost every time he attacks.   So this is far and away the most intense fight Buu has been in, and he’s starting to tire out.   Eventually, Buu will get blown apart so many times that even he won’t be able to pull himself back together.   The impression I get is that it would have been easier for Buu to reattach existing peices of himself than to grow new ones.   If Vegito keeps destroying head tentacles like this, it’s going to wear him down even faster.  

Or Vegito could just destroy Buu all at once, so why doesn’t he do that?   That;s what the Kaioshin want to know.   The Elder Kai gave Goku his own life and the Potara Earrings to defeat Majin Buu, so why doesn’t he just finish the job?

Even Vegito’s surprised by how much stronger he is than Buu, so he tells him not to be too upset over the way the fight is going.

But Buu is upset, so he resorts to one of the moves he picked up from the fighters he’s absorbed.   He’s somewhat surprised to find that Vegito’s familiar with the Super Ghost Kamikaze Attack, but he figures it’ll still hurt Vegito while allowing him to keep his distance.

Except Vegito has that attack scouted.  He just throws five ki blasts from his fingers, and detonates all five ghosts before they can get near him.   In the dub, they called this the “Banshee Blast”, and I don’t know why.  I do like the name, though.

Vegito scoffs at that attempt, since it was a move thought up by a child, but Buu insists that this was just a warm-up for his real attack, which will commence shortly.   

So this time, Buu makes ten ghosts instead of five, and instead of rushing Vegito, they all perform the Kamehameha.

This seems to make Vegito nervous, and he turns around and flees to avoid the blasts.

But these are those bendy Kamehameha’s, like the one Goku used against King Piccolo, so no matter where Vegito goes, the blasts track him.

So Vegito flies into a narrow canyon, which causes some of the Kamehamehas to hit the sides and explode before they reach him.   But Buu was counting on him to do that...

Because he has three ghosts waiting for Vegito on the other end of the trench, and they fire Maseko blasts at him when he approaches.  

And he can’t avoid it all in time, so it all blows up in his face.  Where were the other seven ghosts?    I would assume they all flew down from above to cut off the only escape.  

But it doesn’t work.   Buu’s mighty pleased with himself until he realizes that he can’t find Vegito’s body.   Then he senses Vegito behind him but too late to stop his head from getting blasted off.

Yeah, Vegito just used Goku’s Instant Transmission, and Buu’s like, “Oh, yeah, I forgot he could do that.”   I sort of wonder if this is why Goku doesn’t use it more often than he does.   Sometimes we’ll see him zap himself around rapid fire, but usually he only busts this out once in a great while, and maybe it’s to lull his opponents into a false sense of security.  

So the fight resumes, and Buu cries foul for Vegito using fusion, which is pretty rich coming from a guy who absorbs his opponents when he can’t beat them.   By now, Vegito realizes that he doesn’t even need to use his hands to block Buu’s attacks.

This is sort of like that episode where Frieza did the same thing to Goku until he finally forced Frieza to use his hands, except Buu can’t pull that off.   He tries a ki blast, but Vegito just soccer-kicks it away.

Meanwhile, in heaven, the girls are still searching for Gohan.   Dabura, now a good guy, promises to find Gohan even if it costs his life, but Bulma reminds him that he’s already dead. Okay, so when she raps her knuckles on Dabura’s belt, it clanks like it’s made of metal.  So how does any of this work?  Did Dabura get to keep his belt when he died?    They acted like Goku keeping his physical form after death was a great honor, but here it looks like everyone in heaven gets to have at least half of theirs.   I sort of assumed they were all made out of ghost stuff, but if Dabura’s belt is real, then I have to wonder about his pants.  

Now that I think about it, what’s up with Chi-Chi?  She wasn’t wearing yellow pants, but she has a yellow ghost tail, so what’s up with that?  Same with Videl, really.  But if you touched these ghost tails, would they feel like they’re made out of fabric.  Anyway, Videl thinks they can’t find Gohan, because she still believes he’s alive somehow.    She can feel it, though not in the same way Goku can sense ki.

So Bulma is supportive of this.  Even if it’s wishful thinking, she believes that if you wish hard enough and long enough, your wishes will come true.    Speaking of wishing for something long and hard, Bulma points out that Videl’s in love with Gohan.

D’awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Dabura’s ecstatic over this, and I get the impression that he didn’t know what love was until now.   Anyway, he gets a little overenthusiastic about it, and it gets weird.  Way to kill the mood, Dabura, and this is coming from the guy who made a “long and hard” joke a minute ago.

Speaking of long and hard jokes, Buu may have put up a good fight after absorbing Gohan, but it’s not enough to stop Vegito, or even make Vegito try hard.  He informs Buu that he’s beaten, and suggests that he surrender.

I’m not sure what Vegito would do if Buu actually gave up.  I guess he would demand that he cough up Piccolo and the others, assuming Buu even knows how to do that.  Then what?  He just collects the Dragon Balls four months later and wishes everyone back, and Super Buu just gets to hang out?  

Anyway, Buu doesn’t give up, probably because he knows he’s on his own here, and the only thing Vegito can do is kill him, so he eggs him on.

And this is just a trap to lure Vegito in so he can turn him into candy.

Specifically, coffee-flavored candy. 

From ringside, Dende and Mr. Satan are horrified.  This is one of my favorite bits from the dub, because Dende asks “Why coffee-flavored?   That’s gross!”   And instead of “Nani?” Mr. Satan just asks “Candy?”   He’s seen Buu do this before, but he just doesn’t get it.  

From the cheap seats, the Elder Kai flips out.   Vegito just snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.   I’d like to say Kibitokai is siezed with mortal terror, but that’s kind of been his default mood ever since they went into Babidi’s spaceship.

All that’s left now, it seems, is for Buu to decide how to eat Vegito.  I’m with Dende on this: Why coffee flavored?  I went to Starbucks a few weeks ago on a lark.  I don’t think I’ve been to one more than twice, and the first time was like 15 years ago.   Anyway, I decided to get an iced vanilla frappucino, just for the sake of trying one of these overbooked coffee things they’re famous for.   Turns out it was terrible.  I wasn’t sure if I’d like iced coffee or not, but I didn’t expect it to be that bad.   It tasted like coffee that’s been sitting around for a really long time.  Like, imagine if you brewed a pot of coffee, and just dumped it into a stoppered sink and forgot about it for like a week, and then you came back and sipped it up with a straw.  

And I enjoy coffee from time to time, but I never realized just how important the temperature of it can be for the experience.   I knew people drank it on ice, and I honestly thought that made sense.   Yeah, the same flavor, only cold, I could see that.   And yeah, that’s exactly what it tastes like, but it’s awful.    It was like eating the middle part of a Hot Pocket that hadn’t cooked all the way through.

And I know it doesn’t matter here.  The point is that Buu’s survived Vegito, so it doesn’t matter if he tastes good or not.   But still, he could have turned him into anything, so you’d think he would have gone with a better flavor.

Anyway, yadda yadda, Z stands for the end, but ice coffee sucks.  

[pffbts]

hello my baby! are requests still open? can I request a Taehyung imagine where he's been in love with a co worker noona for sometime but he is afraid to confess but finally gets his chance? its ok if you dont answer this request right away! your well being is more important. always remember that I'm here for you 🥰

―genre: fluff; angst; crack; minimal smut.

―characters: kim taehyung x female reader | no supporting character.

―w.c: 2.1K

―author`s note: i, honestly, have no words but this is such a good request i had to like dive in with all my love – i guess. also no, i did not just almost write a sappy kissing scene. thank you for the request, didi. much love

[08:50 PM] [the city during the night times is always the best time for someone to see the outline of someone`s presence]

―the blue haired guy beside your cubicle is out of this world attractive. you know it, the guy who sits in the other cubicle beside this guy knows it, the women of all age in this office know it, your dog knows it, and most importantly, the desktop which sits right in front of him, on top of his desk – knows it, mostly.

the blue haired guy – our shamelessly beautiful protagonist, kim taehyung felt like he had never seen a woman this beautiful in his whole life as if sometimes he can`t even see what is beyond you in his field of vision. it was tempting and satisfying. even though your presence affects him this much, you were completely unaware of his thoughts. but it was only because he is good at hiding it.

you always thought that taehyung is a hard-working guy, who watched anime and read comics during his free times. he`s always the one who greets you first thing in the morning but you didn`t know that he did all this because he wanted to keep in touch with you as long as his time permits him to do so.

to be frank, office workers work late – sometimes the shifts are so late that when you return home, your heels are legitimately giving you nightmares back to back. but things like this are part of your life. but to be given a choice that you can skip such activity then you would probably be the first one to raise your hand up and with that simultaneously, the blue-haired guy because then he`ll probably have no work in the office without your presence beside him all the time.

this is pathetic, taehyung thought. because even he knows there are a thousand reasons why this thing for you of him will not work out. first – you`re older than me and it`s not just by age (four and a half years) but also career-wise, you`re much senior to him; second – his looks, strangely enough, he`s aware of the wavering glances the younger female co-workers give to him, taehyung knows that he has killer looks and to that he thanks his parents every day but then what is the use of such good looks when he can`t even make you fall in love with him. why must he get the such-a-hard-working-junior pat on his head every day whenever he greets you in the morning?

also – ridiculous, this is so fucking ridiculous, like why is that weird breaded man hanging over your head as you speak about this project you`ve taken up while scrolling through the draft and bullet points – like dude, back the fuck up or else, taehyung might lose his good boy persona and that`s definitely not good news.

taehyung clenched his fist – his fingers hovering over the keyboard mid-typing as he watches everything from the corner of his eyes. suddenly, the tie around his neck was suffocating and his toes were twitching with rage inside his shoes. this is impossible. without considering any other thoughts, taehyung jumped in, “sir!”

both you, with wide eyes and the weird-breaded-guy looked at taehyung`s direction.

“yes, mr.kim?”

“sir, i-.”he started, only to be cut off.

“mr. kim you can see i`m currently talkin-.”

“washroom!” a panicked taehyung squeaked in, “can i please be excused?”

well, what the fuck, kim. taehyung felt like if only the ground would open up right at that moment and just swallow him up then he wouldn`t have to watch your face giving him strange expression.

“of course you can. it`s not school anymore, mr. kim.”

even though the breaded guy laughed for a second, taehyung felt like all of his bad deeds since childhood had been relived and he felt helpless under your funny gaze and everyone who had stopped typing and looking at his direction, sly grins on their face and weird whispers from their mouth.

without another glance towards anyone, taehyung got up from his place and swiftly walked away from the secret laughter, away from you whose eyes have softened when you realized something was completely wrong with his face – this is not the taehyung you know. this taehyung is flustered and probably looks like fighting a battle within himself. this taehyung looked like someone had touched a very sensitive part of the reel of his memories.

after an hour and talking about your project sidelines, you looked to his side. the seat was still empty and somehow, you know, you shouldn`t be feeling like this – because there`s really no reason for you to feel like this – you shouldn`t really be missing him. you looked back at your computer screen, waiting for the next word to follow your thoughts.

washing his face vigorously and making a mess of his bangs against his forehead, taehyung looked back at his reflection. why was this so difficult – to just tell you everything and just be confident with it, or was it something that`s not feeling right within himself. taehyung was all at once not confident – not confident enough to look at his reflection, the way his eyebrows are always on the flick, his eyes that has only intensity looming in them, his skin, his lips which is shaped just like a heart. maybe because he`s nervous – to confess his true feelings to you because he fears that if you see his true self, the reasons behind his morning greets, his assuring smile every once in a while then you would completely cut him off from your life.

maybe, you don`t even consider him as a man who is capable of taking over your heart. maybe you see him as a friend – or worst, brother. then, what would he do? will he try to cover up his shattered insides with a white cloth filled with smiles or just leave you and let you give the time to regret your decision?

no! he can`t do that. another splash of water against his face and taehyung inhaled as quickly as the water dripped off his face. he can`t just make you regret something you weren`t even responsible for doing. but, you`re so far away, so far away that sometimes he thinks distance is like snow which melts away no matter what and that it was never a real thing. pushing his hair back, taehyung stood straight up, his shoulders slouched and his jaw lose.

maybe if that`s how it is – then he`ll definitely give it a shot. maybe he`ll give his best and get through this exam without a red mark on his report card. maybe this time he won`t have to come back home with his heart in his hand and no one in front of him without a stretched out hand waiting for him to pass his heart to that person.

it was probably getting quite late and for a moment you thought why not take a breather in the office balcony while watching the night view of the city that spreads itself oh so beautifully under the night with no clouds but stars. pushing your chair, your eyes flickered to taehyung, who was sitting, his body leaning forward and it was clear he was writing something instead of typing. a smile came across your face at the thought of his sudden smiles that he gives often out of nowhere.

getting up finally, you softly padded towards the balcony – the cool wind already making your knee-length skirt flow in soft waves. you walked forward, cutting the air and soon, your hair was flowing on your sides – some of the loose strands over your face. your hand found the purchase of the railing and you breathed in closing your eyes in bliss.

a few minutes later, you stayed still against the flowing air around your body and soon, you heard a voice – and it was such a good voice you tried to remember how it felt like in your ears.

“maybe this is what people mean when you can`t see anyone but the one in your field of vision,” opening your eyes, your eyes flickered on an ethereal looking taehyung, his chin resting on his palm whose elbow rested on the railing, his eyes on you, his lips in a loose pout and his blue bangs messy and moving along with the air. it was such a sight and you still were unaware of his words.

taehyung tried again but this time, he pulled himself up and moved closer to you – so close that the end of your right shoulder met with his sternum. taehyung is definitely a decently tall guy with a pretty handsome face, not to forget his voice was something you would love to wake up every day to.

wait, what are you even thinking? you asked your clouded brain. the air was cool and soon taehyung was eye level with you, a little bit distance and his nose would almost touch you, you thought again.

“i can`t do this anymore,” he started again, his breath falling over your face.

“taehyung, what do you-,” you stumbled on your words and closed your eyes as he leaned in dangerously close to you at once.

“pretending like i just don`t have any sort of feelings for you. as if my smiles are just empty box of gifts, as if my eyes don`t find you every day, as if i don`t call out your name every time you smile back at me.” standing straight up and making you move to face him with his hand on your waist, he leant in, his face almost close to you. this is – why? – what is happening?

in no minutes, you felt a soft warmth against the corner of your lips. your breath hitched and you opened your eyes, to see nothing but the blue of taehyung`s bangs and his inhales and exhales too distinct on your skin.

“noona,” taehyung pressed his lips against the left half of your lips, “no,” a  microscopic giggle, “y/n, i,”pulling himself away from your lips for a second, taehyung looked at your closed eyes, your batted breathe, your stilled body, your hair that tickles his face. leaning in again, this time taehyung completely pressed his lips against yours but before you pull him against you, he pulled away with a “love you.”

“taehyung…”

your arms reached his neck and you pulled him against yourself, putting his mouth on yours again as if this was the kind of breather you were waiting for such a long time.

“i`ve loved you for a long time,” pushing his face against your collar bones, he whispered against the bare skin there, “i`ve watched you for a long time. i love you a lot. i know it`s silly but i really love you.”

looking at the sky right now is like watching sudden spaceships out of nowhere. the air against your body was different – there was a sudden heaviness in it, as if someone filled up a void in it, pushing all of their emotions, their strength into that void to let it be the strongest filled up void. the boy against your throat, the painfully leaning boy looking too drained to keep his head up – as if he has already used up his everything.

and at that moment, you just moved your palm up and down his back, feeling the muscles underneath the white cotton shirt and soon, you`re holding him close against your chest, your face against his hair and a smile there on your face, all over again.

[orihime-maychan]

I gave the ATLA live action movie “The Last Airbender” one more shot...

Four hours ago, I happen to catch the Avatar: The Last Airbender live action movie on the telly, and before I cringed out even thinking about it, I said to myself:

“It’s been almost 10 years, what could possibly make me cringe anymore than what it was?”

So... I watched it. I was supposed to go to sleep because I had a bad case of food poisoning (again) but then my tummy got all better so.. Why not. And I was surprised for the next 1 hour 30 minutes.

OK, so to all ATLA-TLOK fans out there, before you bash me into little pieces for even mentioning this live action movie, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT FIRST!

I am not posting this to bash or to rave about anything, I am just posting this to bring out my thoughts on this movie about 10 years after it was made/after I watched it for the first time (under the assumption that my opinions are valid and welcomed in this site).

I wanted to put this “late” review and commentary so I could have a comparison point once the ATLA series goes live in Netflix next year, among other things.

I believe I may have been too attached to the animated series way back then to have made a somewhat partial and unbiased review to put it down completely as trash.

And lastly,

In relation to the previous point, I will take into account a possible viewpoint from non-ATLA fans who just wanted to while away their time by watching a movie which they knew nothing about.

I’m not gonna put any jumps/breaks/keep reading cuts on this post because it doesn’t show up on mobile anyway, and also because some people on desktop are too lazy to click it so.. I’ll just make this a long-ass post and hopefully my PC can survive the long-ass ness x_x So if you started reading this well.. It’s on you. =P

I will be doing the commentaries based on the following:

How the story flow compares to the original ATLA series

Character comparisons between the series (especially KEY characters)

Rendering of the effects

If I was a bystander who watched it for the sake of watching (i.e. if I wasn’t an ATLA fan), how would I feel about it?

If I remember to do so, I’ll probably make an overall comment on the whole thing based on what I said and add some stuff I may have forgotten to add. Also, since the Airbender movie is just for Book 1: Water, well it’s the only thing I’ll comment on. Again, be warned, this will be a long, long, long-ass post.

Live Movie vs Book 1 Series

Well, let’s be honest here, even the Ember Island Players took a very long time to showcase just Book 1 in their own version, so of course Nick and Paramount had to cut everything to fit into 1 1/2 hours of movie time, and that would cut out more exciting and pivotal scenes from even getting shown. I mean, it’s not like they had that much budget to turn the whole thing into something as long as one movie from LOTR or even Hogwarts movies. A lot of the magical bending stuff were sorta uhm.. not there? Also, there were so much leaps and stuff just to visit all of the Air Nomad Temples, that was basically what Aang, Katara and Sokka were doing most of the time, aside from learning how to bend, escaping Zuko and Co., as well as inciting rebellion within the Earth Kingdom under the Fire Nation domain. And also, I felt the whole thing wasn’t even meant to be a big production, unless I just don’t watch enough movies to recognize anybody. Seriously, the only actors I recognized in the live action were Jackson Rathbone and Dev Patel, I honestly don’t know everybody else (sorry Yue, I find you lovely but I don’t know who you are T_T). So... You see where I’m going here?

So... Because of many constraints, the entire Book 1 was reduced into this plot:

Two Southern water tribe siblings found a kid (and a huge fluffy beast) frozen in a ball of ice, which shot out a beam of light after breaking the ice ball. They brought the kid and the beast back home, in which they tried to get to know him better. But a foreign prince from beyond the wild seas took it upon to himself to bring back what he believed to be his target, The Avatar, by storming into the Southern water tribe village and taking the kid from the ice into custody. The two siblings’ grandmother later revealed that based on history and her own knowledge, the kid was the Avatar who was supposed to bring balance into the world, but disappeared in almost a century. So the two kids took it as their responsibility to rescue the ice ball kid under any circumstance, until he could turn the tides from the Fire Nation and bring balance and harmony into the world. Meanwhile, the kid from the ice was tested if he was indeed the Avatar, and unfortunately passed the test, now has an existential crisis and wanted to run away again, which he was able to do so with the help of the water tribe siblings. This leaves the captor, the former Prince of the Fire Nation even more pissed and determined to recapture his place and his position in his own country, as well as his father, the Fire Lord.

After visiting all of the Air Nomad Temples and realizing that he was the last bender of his kind, the Avatar underwent another existential crisis which he was only able to mitigate through meditation and reaching out to the spirit realm. This was further intensified by his need to master all of the remaining elements in order to serve his life purpose better because he ran away even before beginning his trainings, and he just couldn’t make stronger attacks or defenses just by bending air. So along with the two siblings, he traveled to the Northern Water tribes in order to learn water bending from the master. During the course of this travel, he met with the former Fire Prince and fought with him multiple times, he was kidnapped by another Fire Nation official after being lured by an Earth Kingdom citizen (and was actually set free by a ninja who later turned out to be the former Fire Prince), and he kept getting blocks from unlocking his full water bending potential. Only by entering the spirit realm and chatting with a dragon spirit was the Avatar able to keep himself calm despite the stuff happening around him.

After staying at the Northern water tribe’s place and learning water bending for quite sometime, the time for war against the Fire Nation came. However, despite preparations, the water benders were outnumbered and overpowered by the fire benders, which further worsened when one of the moon spirits got killed by the Fire Prince’s rival, thus removing the water bending abilites from those who could. However, ironic as it seems, another Fire nation member knows how to undo the damage that was done, and once the sacrifice was done, the water-benders were back in action. So much so, that even the Avatar was able to chase away the Fire Nation’s armada of ships away. After realizing that he was indeed, needed to restore the imbalance brought upon by his disappearance, the Avatar took his original responsibility to heart by bowing back to all of those who bowed down to him.

That was basically the entire content if focused only on Aang’s development. If you’d ask me, an hour and a half won’t be enough to bring to light all the wonders and charms of the original series, you might need like a three-hour trilogy series just to show each character’s full strengths and weaknesses. So even if a lot of the nice stuff in the series had to be cut out, I’d say that whatever was used in the movie was pretty much enough to show a proper plot to keep track of.

Basically, it all boils down to this:

The production team (or whatever governing body had to make the decisions regarding how the whole thing had to be made) had to take into consideration their target audiences, the production cost, and how long the whole movie must be in order to maximize whatever resources they had. If I was to base my opinion on such things, then I say that the movie’s storyline is overall OK.

Movie vs Series... Characterwise

Well, to make this long-ass commentary a bit shorter, I’ll just make a generalized comparison because for a short movie, there is obviously not enough time to build each character up so it makes for seemingly-flat characters. 

First of these is the fact that despite filling in some backstories for most of the characters, their traits seem to feel a bit wanting. Like there’s something missing. If you’d ask me, the thing that’s missing is whether or not they are capable of change. Some characters are like that, you see them move for the first 5-10 minutes and you’ll know whether or not the character has some potential for growth and change, not necessarily for the better but just some overall change from point A to B. We see this in the ATLA series because there is so much time spent on that, and I think that’s what makes everyone in there so endearing. Heck, even Azula has some fans because at least, at some point she had some sort of character change. However, based on my experience, that’s not easily done because in order for a character to enter change, a lot of events, introspections, expressions, and other internal and external influences must push the character to change. To make them strong or weak isn’t the point, but rather to make the character move out of their system and into another. This wasn’t  possible in the live action movie because again, time constraints. So whatever they were from the beginning just continued on until the end. NO dead-obvious growth observed, whatsoever. I felt like this was a disservice to ATLA fans because the characters portrayed on the screen were so different from the ones we got used to (hate) and even loved from the series:

Aang got reduced to a very confused and angry boy, who was originally written as a warm, friendly, and happy-go-lucky ball of charm. Also, if they wanted to do justice for however they shaped movie Aang, they should have made a whole lot more internal dialogue about his regrets and stuff, so angsty and angry Aang could have been justified better.

Katara got portrayed as a stiff girl, when in fact she was originally shown as hopeful, inquisitive and even smart, apart from her kindness and her nurturing and fun side. Also, as far as I recall, Katara in the series was already a very competent water bender, so why reduce her to a floppy one in the movie? It would have been better if she just was a wee better than what she was but still wanted to learn from Paku, to show children that there is always room for improvement (because again, this was originally intended for young viewers)

Sokka got reduced to a moody teen (Sorry Jackson), when in fact he was like Ronald Weasley: funny, resourceful, really tactical (friendly reminder that Ron won Wizard’s Chess, just saying) and is actually a comic relief. OK, so maybe there was a teeny, tiny part where Sokka was funny, but like 3% or lower. If you blink, you’ll miss it. I guess the part where he was brotherly to Katara was OK, just to redeem his movie self a bit.

Despite the vibe, movie Zuko wasn’t too angsty for my taste, he was just full of anger and revenge, so I don’t feel like it’s justifiable for him to be like that. Even if he actually got some screentime for some flashback, the character was just too angry and vengeful, not enough teen angst to give it depth. Sorry Dev, you did great but if you had an idea on who Zuko really was, you may probably gave him a better shape. Unless you already know how but just got cut off by the directors or something. I won’t know for sure. Also, we need more scars, like really deep, wrinkly, very horrifyingly discolored scars, not just the mild ones that I had to squint to see, because that’s surely a good source of Angst(c)

Uncle Iroh’s love for self-indulgence and his laid-back style wasn’t completely spot-on, I wanted a really chill yet wise vibe from him, but I guess the lack of dialogues between him and Zuko plus the fact that I only saw him drink tea TWICE, well, that’s just sad. I’m sure Uncle Iroh would’ve wanted more tea and cake times, and more feet-pampering. Plus more father-and-son scenes with Zuko because that’s what will eventually give way for angst and realizations but then again, I may be too opinionated on this one.

Ozai wasn’t as evil and as psychopathic as I expected him to be. He could have been more cruel, more harsh, more brash, more brutal, less passive, and less fluffy. General Zhao had more of that Ozai feel in him, maybe the two should have just exchanged places. Or better yet, it would have been better if they just made Ozai into a narcissistic manipulator, that might have worked. A charismatic manipulator, like Azula.

I think these are the only key characters worth mentioning in the movie since they’re pretty much pivotal in how that story arc moves, whether in the live action movie or in the series.

Movie Bending (Expectations vs Reality)

I had to say, the bending was actually OK, for me at least. The flamey-flamey shots and the water to ice bending were cool, the earth bending could have been better and faster but it’s pretty much decent, and the fact that air bending can be made more visible by putting air particulates like dust and mist around the whirlwinds so that the air movements can be seen is actually laudable. But then again, there wasn’t really that much bending to show since there were equally as much fight scenes as bending. It didn’t do that much justice though, since in the series bending elements were not limited to just fighting. Bending the elements could destroy or build structures, bending can heal or break people, and there is just so much complexity that elemental bending can show fans or non-fans or even beginning fans, which were not shown in the movie because of so many constraints. I’d dare say it was a disservice, but again, given the restrictions, I’d say that the bending shown in the movie was also, overall, given the circumstances, were pretty much OK.

If I wasn’t a Fan... (lol)

Well, if I wasn’t a fan, if I wasn’t aware (or even living) in the ATLA-TLOK universe, I would say that this movie had some entertainment value. Sure, maybe introducing the four nations could have needed some extra sentences at least, like the intro in the series, or maybe like show the map of the entire ATLA-TLOK world, talk about each part briefly, and maybe some bit on explaining what the elemental benders are. So I won’t be surprised at Katara making water balls or Aang making whirlwinds or Zuko kicking some fire out. I’d be confused as heck. Also, I feel that it would be even more amazing if they showed Appa flying a lot, and Aang’s interactions with Appa and Momo, because seriously, that would have at least made some of the kids think on the possibilities of having a flying bison or a flying lemur. Because showing a flying Appa but not seeing how that looks when you’re on the back of one kinda, I dunno, feels less magical. I only saw them fly once and swim once on water but that’s about it. At least show them parking Appa on one of the Air Nomad Temples or something. My point is:

Make the scenes a bit more engaging to the viewers. Strike their imagination or something. OR at the very least, make them awe at the possibilities of bending or whatever.

If the viewers came out of the cinemas feeling like they want a flying bison or they wanna bend fire or rocks or stuff, then at the very least you’ll be able to gauge if they got engaged with your movie or not. I don’t care what age group they would be, heck, I’m in my early 30′s and after more than a decade of being an ATLA fan, I still want my own dragon or flying bison. I won’t even mind if I get a letter from Hogwarts that I’m accepted as a witch, or if a parcel suddenly appears at my doorstep and something magical or mystical was there. Now if that isn’t engagement then I don’t know what is.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get that kind of feels from the movie, it just felt like something that would pass through me and won’t even consider remembering. I mean, the bending was all magical and stuff, but the characters weren’t able to pull me in. I wasn’t able to connect with them as much as I wanted to. They weren’t as much likeable or relatable as much as I expect them to be. They feel like a one-time deal, and I feel bad for them, actually. I mean, if you’re gonna write about a bunch of people, at least make them a bit relatable for the viewers. Give them a bit of depth, so that we won’t take them at face value. I mean, even the most boring person on earth has some depth, so at least, make the characters seem like they could actually feel things, because they aren’t stuck on something like a one-dimensional person. At the very least, make them DECENTLY human.

Overall Comments and some Final Stuff

I’m a bit sleepy but I’ll try to sum it all up and give my conclusions.

The Avatar the Last Airbender movie (seems to have) came short because of too many constraints:

Time constraints

Budget constraints

Character constraints

Creative constraints

However, despite such constraints the plot was actually enough to keep the movie going. There were also sufficient backstories for the main characters to use in order to push through with what they’re supposed to be doing. Sure, Aang only learned how to water bend but I think there was enough elemental bending in the movie to show the different styles of bending so that’s OK, I guess.

Overall, even if it sucked the first time around, after giving this movie another shot I guess it’s pretty much an OK movie to watch, to while away the time. I just hope that the Netflix version can be a WHOLE LOT BETTER at translating the animated series into live action. I know it’s a lot of expectations but at this rate, I could just hold on to properly-written and portrayed characters as well as smooth-flowing storylines, never minding whether or not the places or the bending are properly portrayed.

And with that, this review is done.

Will snooze and let this whole thing roll off my back.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “Social Climber” (Rated PG13)

On a visit to New York City, Kurt and Sebastian drop by Vogue to see how the fashion world is getting along with Kurt Hummel's presence five days a week. But while they're there, they run into a situation that brings up painful memories from Kurt's past, as well as Sebastian's role in them. (3829 words)

Notes: If this one-shot makes you feel some sort of way, be sure to read the notes at the end.

Part 47 of Daddies

Read on AO3.

“Woo-wee! Swanky!” Sebastian strolls a circuit around Kurt’s office, giving the place a once over from the carpeted floors to the higher-than-normal ceiling, which, along with the pale white walls, keeps the room bright with the help of sunlight alone - no overhead lighting required during the day. An abundance of natural light is probably necessary for looking at photographs of beautiful people dressed in stylish but revealing clothing, Sebastian thinks. Why did he ever make fun of Kurt’s obsession with fashion for so long? Compared to what Sebastian stares at all day, Kurt obviously ended up with the better career. He trails his fingertips over the slick surface of Kurt’s desk. The second he touches it, it goes dark and a menu pops up. Sebastian’s eyes go wide. “A touch screen? This … this desk has a built in touch screen?”

“A-ha. It replaces my laptop. It handles everything from page layouts …” Kurt demonstrates, selecting a tab that brings up a slideshow of what Sebastian assumes to be next month’s magazine, each section highlighted and available for editing “… to the blinds on the windows.” Kurt taps another tab and the blinds lower. When they reach the sill, Kurt clicks the tab and they lift again.

Sebastian whistles through his teeth. “Isabelle gave you an office? This office? Even though you only come here, like, once a month?”

“Yes, sir.” Kurt watches his husband continue his investigation, preening at his praise. It’s not often Kurt has something that makes Sebastian this jealous. Kurt plans on enjoying every minute of it.

“Wow. I worked at my father’s office for years and all he ever gave me was a blotter and a pen set. Vogue must have a bigger hard-on for you than I do.”

“Nah. Vogue is like the Hilton. They have a bunch of empty offices like this one sitting around empty, waiting for people to fill them. They just gave me one of the leftovers.”

Sebastian, staring out Kurt’s window at his phenomenal view, throws an astonished look over his shoulder. “Really?”

Kurt laughs. “No, not really! Sebastian! This is a corner office! They don’t hand out corner offices to just anyone! They love me here!”

“Mr. Hummel?” A soft knock follows. “Mr. Hummel, I have those back issues you requested.”

“Great! Thank you, Celia!” Kurt hurries over to the door to collect an armful of vintage magazines from the young blonde woman standing there. “I’ve been trying to order these from every library on the east coast with no luck,” he says, sifting through the pile. “Most of these haven’t been uploaded to the Internet yet. I should have known Vogue would have them. We’ve got a huge vault full of clothes. Why not magazines, too?”

“What do you need these for?” Sebastian asks, taking half the leaning pile of periodicals from his husband’s arms.

“My new line. I want to encompass one iconic look from every major shift in couture fashion. I’m calling it The Legacy Boutique.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Sebastian comments, his impressed tone clouded by the distraction of Celia lingering in the doorway, aiming inscrutable looks at the two of them that Kurt doesn’t seem to notice. As a gay man in fashion, Kurt is probably used to people gawking at him. Sebastian has been gawked at tons of times, too, but it’s not something he’s ever gotten used to.

“It will be.” Kurt puts his portion of the magazines on his desk, the screen shuffling to keep the information displayed out from underneath. Sebastian can’t help but shake his head at Kurt’s high tech desk, as well as the other bells and whistles his office has. It seems excessive, but Kurt deserves it. Sebastian is glad someone else in the world appreciates his husband as much as he does. “I want to have some sketches done by the end of the month.”

“Kurt! Sebastian! I was hoping I would catch the two of you while you were here!” Isabelle moves Celia gently aside and sweeps in, rushing forward with open arms. “It’s not often I get the honor of having both of you in my neck of the woods!”

“You didn’t think we’d come to New York without stopping by, did you?” Kurt asks, giving his boss a hug. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’re all getting along without me.”

“Abysmally.” Isabelle kisses Kurt on both cheeks, then Sebastian. “It’s so much more fun when you’re here. Remember what I said, if you ever want to move your family to the city, even part time, we’d love to have you. Five of the best elementary schools in New York are within walking distance of our building.”

“A bus ride and a walk,” Kurt points out.

“True. But you can use the company car. It’ll be at your disposal 24/7.”

“I promise we’ll think about it,” Sebastian intervenes, giving Kurt an out since he knows how much it breaks his heart to say no to Isabelle. “If nothing else, I promise we’ll visit more.”

“And you’ll bring Thomas with you next time, right?” She glares sternly at Sebastian, leaving Kurt to wonder when exactly he got edged out of this conversation.

“Of course,” Kurt adds, in case Isabelle honestly forgot he was there.

She pulls them in for another hug. “That’s all I ask. Ooo, except, it’s not. Kurt, I was hoping you’d sit in on this morning’s meeting. I want to show you off.”

“Sure! I’d love to! Oh …” Kurt turns to his husband, sheepish for having jumped the gun so quickly. They did have plans after all, which consisted of lunch (mostly naked) back at their penthouse before they had to swing by Ohio and pick up Thomas from a visit with his dad “… are you going to be alright for a couple of minutes by yourself?”

Celia walks up to Sebastian, ready to take his arm. “You don’t have to be alone. I’ll gladly give you a tour if you’d like.”

“Nah, I’ve been,” Sebastian says, side-stepping her before she can reach him. “Besides, I’m good to hang here … enjoy the view … rifle through the desk drawers looking for loose change.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Isabelle pecks one last kiss on Sebastian’s cheek. “I’ll return him to you soon!”

“Yes, thank you.” Kurt wraps his arms around Sebastian’s waist and steals a kiss from him as well, this one on the lips, before he’s whisked out of the room by Isabelle and her non-stop chatter.

“You two lovebirds will have the entire afternoon for that when you get back to your place! It’s time to talk about this new line you’ve got planned!”

Sebastian listens as Isabelle drags Kurt down the hall, leaving him alone in Kurt’s office with Celia, standing not too far from Kurt’s desk, staring at Sebastian as if waiting for him to strike up a conversation. Internally, Sebastian sighs. This wasn’t what he signed on for when Kurt suggested they drop by Vogue. He was hoping for a little office nookie, though he was pretty certain he wasn’t going to get any. He doesn’t mind visiting Isabelle and listening to her talk on and on about fashion, even if he doesn’t know a bralette from a tank top. He doesn’t mind hanging out in Kurt’s office while Kurt sits in on a meeting that will most likely run two-and-a-half hours before he remembers he has somewhere else he needs to be.

What he doesn’t like is being left alone with someone he doesn’t know, having to make small-talk he doesn’t have the impetus to make. But eventually her staring gets to him. He has to say something either way before he starts maniacally screeching just to break the tension.

“Can you play Galaga on this thing?” he asks, acting as enthralled by Kurt’s fancy new desktop as he can. “Does it get cable?”

“I’m not sure,” Celia answers in a much smoother voice than she’d used around her boss … or his husband.

The question Why don’t you run along and find out? jumps to mind, but Sebastian doesn’t want it getting back to Kurt that he was rude to the woman who essentially fulfills the role of gofer every time he’s in town. He takes a deep breath and decides to play nice, find a way to ask her to leave that won’t have Kurt giving him the silent treatment all the way to Ohio.

Not with the afternoon they have planned.

“Celia … you’re Isabelle’s intern right? Filling Kurt’s shoes from, like, over a decade ago?”

“That’s right,” she says, but offers nothing more.

Sebastian side-eyes her as he walks from bookcase to bookcase, examining with a smile the photos and trinkets Kurt chose to leave here – a brief history of their life together in snapshots and tchotchkes. He glances her way, but she hasn’t moved, watching him like a hawk with an unsettling grin on her face.

“I’m not actually going to steal anything,” he says, hoping she’ll get the hint and vamoose. “You don’t have to stick around and guard the place.”

She saunters in his direction. “I’m not. But, for the moment, I don’t have much to do.”

“Must be nice” - Sebastian switches gears, walking in the opposite direction - “working at a prestigious place like Vogue and being paid to do nothing. How do I apply for a job like that? I mean, my husband makes bank. I don’t know a thing about fashion, but I think I could match a shirt to some pants for the amount of money he makes. Plus, we could share this office. It’s big enough for the two of us … our son and his dog …”

“I’ve seen your picture around Kurt’s office,” she says, overlooking Sebastian’s repeated references to his family. “You’re a very handsome man.”

“I know.”

“How did he get so lucky?” She runs her fingertips along the edge of Kurt’s desk, which pisses Sebastian off. Sebastian may joke about Kurt only being around once a month or so, but Kurt has been with Vogue for years. He worked hard for his office and that super cool desk. She has no right touching it without his express permission. “I’ve seen pictures of his ex, too. What’s his name? Blaine?”

“Yup.” He tries not to sound affected. He suspects that’s what she wants. “That’s his name.”

“Three sexy men from Ohio.” She chuckles. “What’s in the water out there?”

“Mostly fish pee, I think.”

“If I knew all the hunks lived there, I definitely would have gone to high school in the states, not spent my formative years in Italy.”

“Well, the hunks in question happen to be gay,” he stresses, making his way towards the door, “so you didn’t really miss anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I heard Blaine was questioning …”

“I guess so,” Sebastian replies. When in the hell did Blaine become such a hot topic of conversation at fucking Vogue? The gossip train may run rampant, but Kurt and Blaine are ancient history. “But I think he sorted that out pretty quick from what I hear.”

“And how about you?”

“How about me what?” Sebastian snaps, everything from his stomach to his neck getting hot.

“Were you ever questioning?”

Celia asking that makes his skin crawl. It’s not just personal, it’s rude as hell! But that’s something he’s come to expect the few times he’s visited Vogue. Filters don’t seem to be required to get hired.

“No, not that I can recall. And what the fuck would it matter if I was!? I’m definitely not now!”

“Come on … not even a little?” She closes the distance between them faster than he’d expected and he trips backward. “How do you know you don’t like something until you try it?”

“Does this ever work for you?” Sebastian asks, realizing Celia doesn’t seem interested in responding to something as petty as logic.

“I would say around 50-50. Come on. I could open a whole new world for you.”

Her answer, and the smug expression that accompanies it, enrages Sebastian.

“What the heck’s wrong with you, lady!?”

Women like her who try to ‘convert’ gay men should be forced onto some sort of registry, along with men who think that lesbians just need to be fucked by the ‘right guy’. Who else has she been pursuing at Vogue? The amount of young people around that office is staggering – interns, models, assistants. Whom here has she pressured into an encounter they may not have wanted?

“Not only am I gay, I’m married and gay! With a kid! That should be a huge red flag that I’m not going to be into you! Do you do this to Kurt when he comes to the city without me!?”

“Nah,” she says, nonplussed by the anger in Sebastian’s voice. “He’s hot and all, but he’s not exactly my type.”

“Not your type?” he repeats in disbelief because who in the hell could be in the same room with his husband and not want to tear his clothes off? Then Sebastian remembers – him once upon a time. Sebastian remembers being that asshole, flirting with Blaine and insulting Kurt, how much he pushed, how hard he pressured. He always secretly thought Blaine was into the attention because, even though he had a boyfriend that he claimed to love more than anything, he never outright told Sebastian to stop.

Kurt, however, never had a problem saying no. When they transitioned from enemies to friends and Sebastian came on to him, Kurt made himself known loud and clear.

Did Blaine not want to tell Sebastian to get lost? Or did he not know how?

Is this how he felt?

Even though Sebastian and Blaine came to an understanding long ago (Sebastian’s underlying guilt eradicated in part by Blaine’s cheating on Kurt), Sebastian thinks it may be time for him and Blaine to have a heart to heart.

If Blaine wants it … or needs it. Sebastian has never asked him.

But he’ll extend the offer because this sucks, and Sebastian wants it to end.

He’ll make sure to hate himself properly for his past sins the second he makes sure he’s not going to lose his husband.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Celia bites her lower lip in an attempt to look coy. “I think I am turning you on. Look at you. You’re blushing.”

“I’m frustrated!” Sebastian growls. “There’s a huge difference!”

“Not much of a difference,” she says with an infuriating shrug. “I’ll take it.” She loops her arms around Sebastian’s neck and he cracks.

“I won’t!” Sebastian tries to channel a bit of that bastard he was in high school – the same boy who flirted with Blaine while he cut Kurt down behind Blaine’s back. But Sebastian is having a hard time doing that because, regardless of the fact that he’s managed to keep his quick wit and his sarcastic sense of humor, he’s not that boy any more. He’s a grown man with a husband and a son. He’s spent a lot of time and money overcoming his demons. He doesn’t need to summon them back to fend off this woman. Besides, he doesn’t want to have to cut her down to get her to back off.

He wants her to leave him alone because he said no.

Sebastian comes up with a course of action that, though it lacks any of the finesse he had as a stuck up rich kid with his dad’s reputation in his back pocket, it’ll be twice as effective. He knows he could leave, but why should he? This is his husband’s office. He has every right to be there, probably more right than Celia does. He sticks his head out the door and yells: “Kurt! Kurt! Help me, Kurt!”

“Sebastian?” he hears Kurt’s confused voice call from an open doorway down the hall.

Celia’s face goes white, her arms dropping from around Sebastian’s neck as if they were filled with lead. “Wha---what are you doing!?”

“I’m telling on you!” Sebastian refuses to look at her, refuses to acknowledge her existence any more than he has to. “Kurt! Celia’s trying to kiss me and she won’t take no for an answer!”

“What are you? Twelve?” Celia snaps, backing away so quickly she nearly breaks a heel.

“No! I’m in love with my husband! I put a helluva lot of work into getting him to love me back, and I’ll be damned if some overambitious, overreaching intern is going to screw that all up for me!”

Kurt races out into the hallway with Isabelle close on his heels, running back to his office as if Sebastian had yelled ‘Fire!’ Sebastian waits at the door for them to arrive while Celia stumbles into a corner, her back against the wall on the opposite side of the room, red splotches painting her pale cheeks. Kurt enters his office, but Sebastian stays put, determined not to occupy the same space as Celia if he can help it.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Kurt,” Sebastian starts, but before he can finish, Celia pipes up.

“I was just trying to be friendly, Mr. Hummel,” she says, her voice trembling. “We were having a conversation … about you … and he accused me of making a pass at him.”

“Did he?” Kurt asks, his response so dry that Sebastian, who has known Kurt since high school, has no clue what he’s thinking.

“Y-yes.” Celia clears her throat. “Yes. I’m sorry if I came across any other way. I really am. That wasn’t my intention.”

Kurt looks at Sebastian, then at Isabelle, her arms crossed, her face blank, but working things through behind her eyes. Then, as infuriatingly as Celia had, Kurt shrugs. “This is actually a simple situation to rectify,” he says, walking over to his desk and selecting a tab on the screen. “There are security cameras set up in all of the offices.”

“What?” Celia and Sebastian say together.

Sebastian sounds relieved.

Celia sounds terrified.

“Absolutely.” Isabelle unwinds her arms and joins Kurt at his desk, selecting the program he’s looking for when his hands begin to shake. “There used to be a fair amount of intellectual property theft going on here, especially by interns.” Isabelle shoots Celia a look. “It’s outlined in the contract you signed when you started working here. It states quite clearly that you would be monitored in every space except the bathrooms and the dressing rooms.”

“Uh … you know … you know what?” Celia says, prying herself from the wall. “You don’t … you don’t need to look at that. I’ll admit, I may have acted inappropriately …”

Her own voice coming out of a speaker on the wall stops her as the four stare at the screen, varied expressions from fear to anger on their faces.

“Were you ever questioning?”

“No, not that I can recall. And what the fuck would it matter if I was? I’m definitely not now!”

“Come on … not even a little? How do you know you don’t like something until you try it?”

“Does this ever work for you?”

“I would say around 50-50. Come on. I could open a whole new world for you.”

Kurt puts the playback on pause when he gets to the point where Celia loop her arms around his husband’s neck - his shoulders, his back, his entire body rigid as steel. Sebastian wants to touch him, but for the moment, he’s paralyzed. He can’t imagine what’s going on in Kurt’s head, what kind of flashbacks he’s experiencing.

Is Sebastian in them? And what part does he play?

Isabelle looks at the man beside her, his hands clenched into fists on the desktop, and runs a hand up and down his spine. “It’s ok, Kurt,” she whispers. “It’s going to be ok.”

Kurt nods but he doesn’t speak. The silence growing in the office seems to wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.

He can’t.

“I … I can explain …” Celia says.

“No, don’t explain,” Isabelle says. “Get your things and go.”

Celia’s jaw drops so far, Sebastian swears he hears it smack the floor. “What!? Why!?”

“Because aside from perpetrating sexual harassment,” Isabelle says in a voice Sebastian has never heard her use before, “you disrespected one of my most valuable employees, and two of my best friends. I can’t stand for that. I won’t stand for that. Kurt Hummel and his family are worth way more to me than you. Now leave. And expect a call from legal.”

“I … I …” When Celia can’t think up a response, she storms out, having the nerve to go in a huff regardless of being caught red-handed. Isabelle watches Celia leave, waiting until she’s out of earshot.

“I need to stop by security, make sure someone escorts her out. But I’ll be back … okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt whispers, leaning in for the kiss he knows she has for him. She squeezes his shoulder, then reluctantly leaves him. On the way out the door, she gives Sebastian a sympathetic smile and a pat on the arm. The silence builds again without Isabelle there, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket, turning that large, bright room into a dark, tiny cell.

“Kurt.” Sebastian takes a step towards his husband, bent over the image displayed on his desk of Celia with her arms around Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian didn’t notice how close she had gotten to him. Had he not pulled away, she might have kissed him. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I am so sorry.” Those words echo in his ears with the memory of the dozens of times he’s said them before.

“Why are you apologizing?” Kurt sniffles. “You didn’t do anything.”

Sebastian nods even though Kurt can’t see him. He wants to tell him that he’s sorry that he has no safe spaces. Every time Kurt finds somewhere he can call a haven, something steps in and swipes a smidgen of his security.

But Sebastian can’t do that without dredging up a painful part of their history.

He takes a step closer. “Are we … are we going to be okay?”

Kurt breathes in, shoulders shuddering, and for a second, Sebastian thinks he may have started crying. But he hasn’t. He’s not going to let the Celias of the world – or the Blaines or the Sebastians - bring him to tears. Not again. He taps the touchscreen, and the image of Sebastian and Celia dissolves into blackness.

“Yeah.” Kurt turns away from his desk and slides into his husband’s arms, sinking into the warmth of his touch. Because the past is the past, and this is the present. In the present, Sebastian is a good man, an excellent father, and the closest thing to a soul mate Kurt has ever had. “We’re fine.”

Notes:

So, believe it or not, this one-shot took me a long time to upload. When I started writing this, it was just supposed to be light and humorous. So many people have asked me to write a one-shot where Kurt gets jealous of Sebastian because some secretary or something is flirting with him, specifically a female secretary who would have no chance with Sebastian because he’s gay. I started writing this one, wrapped mostly around the “I’m telling on you!” comment. But it began to evolve into Sebastian reflecting on his own past actions, which we touch on but don’t really address in this series. After a while, it stopped being amusing anymore, especially when coupled with actual current events. I didn’t want to blow this subject off. I didn’t want it to be light-hearted. I wanted it to be real, with a fall out beyond ‘Kurt gets mad at the evil woman that tried to take his husband away’. Also, Celia wasn’t written to villainize women. She’s not really a gender. She’s a person. She represents, like Sebastian said, every woman who has ever tried to convert a gay man, or every man who has ever tried to force themselves on a lesbian to ‘change her mind’. She’s the embodiment of the man who cornered me as a teenager and wouldn’t let me leave till I kissed him, and the anger I feel that, even though he was fired for that, so many of the comments made to me by the security officers who took down my statement are still said to women and men today who report sexual assault. I could go on, but the tl:dr is that I wanted you all to know that I don’t condone sexual assault by anyone. It shouldn’t be made light of, because it’s not a laughing matter. And even though I write Sebastian and Blaine as good guys, I think there are things on both sides that both men need to atone for.

[computingvewor]

Mac new hard drive not recognized

Mac new hard drive not recognized how to#

Mac new hard drive not recognized for mac#

Mac new hard drive not recognized install#

Mac new hard drive not recognized update#

Mac new hard drive not recognized software#

Note If you have any problems with the installation, see the following Microsoft Knowledge Base article. What should I do? I do not have Applecare on this and it is six months past the one year warranty.Įdit: Sorry, hit the submit far too early by accident. The browser should recognize the new plug-in. I launched System profiler and it does see an nVidia SATA controller, it does not list any hard drive devices from it though. You can also see it in the Finder in the left column under. The installer does not see either hard drive at this point to either pick it for installation or from the Disk Utility available in the installer environment. Normally when you plug in an external hard drive to your Macs USB port you will see it appear on the desktop (aka mount on the desktop).

Mac new hard drive not recognized install#

I had a spare hard drive from another older Macbook that I connected to the failed MacBook pro and inserted the Snow Leopard install disk. I opened the case to pull the hard drive figuring it was a complete hard drive failure however after connecting to a spare Linux machine I was able to dump the contents of the entire drive and SMART shows no errors. Upon powering it on, at the gray screen the folder alerting it could not see a boot device appeared. It worked before dinner for my wife and when she returned to it after dinner, it was powered down. If you are concerned about data loss, you may want to invest in a product like AnyRecover that can help you quickly and easily recover your data after a WD External hard drive not recognized error has been delivered.I have a one and a half year old 13" MacBook Pro with the 2.26Ghz processor that just last night stopped recognizing the hard drive. There are some simple methods that you can use to regain access to your hard drive. You don't need to panic if your WD external hard drive is not recognized. Is there a yellow exclamation mark next to the WD hard drive device? If yes: Press “R” while simultaneously holding the Windows button.

Mac new hard drive not recognized update#

To update the driver, take the following steps:ġ. If you’ve tried some of the methods listed above but find that your WD hard drive isn’t even showing up in Disk Management, there could be something wrong with the device driver. If that doesn’t work, you could also try connecting it with a different USB cable. All you have to do is change the USB port to which your WD external hard drive is connected.

Mac new hard drive not recognized software#

If you don’t want to go through all the trouble of using disk management and run software to try to fix your WD External Hard Drive not recognized problem, you can opt to try a super quick fix like this one. Restart your computer and check to see if problem has been resolved.ģChange another USB port/cable to connect WD external hard drive Use the drop down menu to assign a new letter. Right click on the WD drive and click “Change drive letter and paths”.ĥ. When the “run” box pops up, type in “diskmgmt.msc” and click “ok”.ģ. Using your keyboard, press the “R” and Windows logo simultaneously.Ģ. Though it’s also not a guaranteed method of success, it is worth a shot. Like the first method mentioned, this method is simple and easy, and can be done with very little technological knowledge.

Mac new hard drive not recognized how to#

When learning how to solve wd external hard drive not recognized errors, another method you can use is to change the letter and paths of your hard drive. This post will show you how to resolve this error without losing data. In console not sure how Hard drive specific errors would look like. I have done pretty much everything you suggested including terminal- force mounting (does detect before that) comes up with unknown special file or file system message.

Mac new hard drive not recognized for mac#

Wait for the New Simple Volume Wizard to pop up and follow the on-screen prompts.ĢChange Letter and Paths of your WD external Hard Drive If your WD external hard drive can not be recognized by your PC, don't worry. I have a MacBook Pro 2016 and a my passport for mac hard drive which stopped mounting. Right click on the disk and select “Create New Simple Volume”. Open Disk Management and right click on the WD hard drive that needs to be initialized. With that being said, if you don’t mind losing data on your external hard drive, you can try this method. It’s also not a guaranteed method of success. This is a simple and easy way to restore access to your hard drive, but precautions need to be taken because it does lead to data loss. If you don’t have any important information stored on your external hard drive, one option to solve the error is to use the Disk Management option. Methods to Fix WD External Hard Drive Not Recognized Error 1Intialize WD External Hard Drive in Disk Management

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

“I Am Alive” - 4. The enemy of my enemy

Adrien Appreciation Week @wearemiraculous , Day 1: Friends

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

AO3 / fanfiction

Adrien paced around his room stopping from time to time next to the coffee table, where Plagg sat and stared in silence at the pair of now red and black-dotted earrings.

‘What now?’ the boy asked for the hundredth time.

The kwami shrugged for the hundredth time in reply.

‘Really, Plagg?’ Adrien huffed. ‘What do we do?’

‘Nothing,’ the little cat drawled, not taking his eyes off the jewels.

‘What?’ The boy whipped his head so fast he almost got whiplash.

‘The Ladybug miraculous is safe. That’s our priority, kid,’ Plagg stated gloomily.

‘Wasn’t our priority to protect innocent people from coming to any harm?’ Adrien took a seat on the couch and eyed his kwami.

The black cat sighed and turned to him. ‘No. You need to understand that protecting the miraculous is the priority for mankind. Once that- that thing gets them in its paws, you cannot recreate them. You lose a crucial element of the universe and the power that goes with it.’ He flattened his ears and pointed to the Ladybug miraculous. ‘Those earrings have had many, many holders, Adrien. As has my ring,’ he added sadly. ‘People come and go. But the power, the essence, stays. It lasts throughout millennia and assists when it’s needed.’

Plagg flew to the boy and settled himself on his palm. ‘Being a hero is a risk. You of all people should know it best, kid. Ladybug knew it too. She renounced the miraculous to save it and to give you a chance. This was her will and it’s your mission now. You have to think of the bigger picture.’

‘This is stupid,’ Adrien shook his head. ‘What kind of hero does this make me if I can’t save her, Plagg? If I’m not even going to try?’

‘The one who lives to see another day?’ The kwami arched a brow and snickered humorlessly. ‘Look, she only did what you usually do during your battles. She was already compromised, so she served as the distraction to keep you and the earrings safe. Now wasting her sacrifice - that would be stupid.’

‘There has to be a way,’ the boy ran his fingers through his hair and pulled in exasperation.

‘That’s the only logic that applies, kid,’ Plagg replied. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’

‘Well, do you know anything about that creature?’ Adrien would be damned if he gave up so easily.

‘Why?’

‘Well, obviously me or Father are the next prey in line,’ the boy evaded, ‘I need to know what’s coming after me. Can you sense it or find it for example?’

The kwami shot him a worried stare, but didn’t question this explanation. ‘I’ve heard some things over the years. We’ve lost a few brothers and jewels, but I wasn’t around then to witness it. Those creatures are powerful, but they are also easily scared. I’m guessing they manifest here as a form of energy, and yes, I can sense them in the same way they can sense quantum magic that I’m made of. That’s how Fu knew it was coming - from Wayzz.’

‘And there’s no way to stop it?’ Adrien pressed on. ‘How come there are still miraculous and kwami if these creatures are as dangerous as you paint them?’

Plagg winced, clearly unhappy that he got caught. ‘When there were more guardians they could somehow banish these entities to their own domain,’ he said reluctantly and quickly added, ‘I doubt Fu can do this. Not at his age and alone. You need a lot of energy to close the portal once it’s gone.’

The boy tapped his chin. ‘How much energy?’ he asked. ‘As much as it takes to… let’s say… cataclysm a building?’

‘Oh, no, you don’t get to do this, kid,’ Plagg snarled. ‘This would not only be incredibly stupid but also irresponsible!’

Adrien set his jaw. ‘And if it took Tikki instead of Marinette,’ he asked. ‘Would you be telling me the same?’

The kwami fell silent, ears flat, and the little tail lashing behind his back. ‘Yes,’ he finally admitted. ‘It probably took Marinette to set a trap. It knew as a duo you’d be more difficult to fight. But you felt what it was like to be near it. You don’t stand a chance alone.’ He hung his head. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘But what if I’m not alone?’ Adrien asked.

Plagg sighed. ‘Fu left with the rest of the jewels. There’s no one here to help.’

‘Ooooh, there is,’ the boy jumped to his feet and clutched at his hair. His eyes lit with the epiphany. ‘There is one more active miraculous wielder in Paris left!’ He exclaimed. ‘But how do I get him to cooperate?’

The kwami flew to his face. ‘That’s a really bad joke, Adrien.’

‘It’s not a joke,’ he shook his head.

‘You wouldn’t,’ Plagg hissed.

Adrien shot him a determinant glare. ‘Watch me. Claws out!’

Cataclysming the safe in his father’s office was a piece of cake. Getting his father to leave the office before that had been more tricky, but finally Gabriel had to give in to the needs known to every living thing and he left to pay the bathroom a visit.

Chat Noir briefly considered destroying the golden painting as well, as an evidence of his determination, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He settled for getting it off the hinges and taking it to the side, so that the damage done behind it could be seen at first glance. He took only the grimoire, the peacock brooch and his mother’s picture with him, throwing the rest of the contents of the safe to the floor and leaving the shelves empty. Hurrying, before he would run out of time, he vaulted himself out of the window and a leap later he was already in his own room, dropping his transformation.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid?’ Plagg scolded him as soon as he was out of the ring. Adrien shoved a wheel of camembert in the kwami’s face.

‘Taking hostages,’ he replied, unabashed with the little cat’s nagging. ‘So that Hawkmoth has a reason to cooperate and leave our miraculouses alone.’ He ran to the second level and rummaged among the DVD boxes, until he reached his own safe and carefully deposited the loot inside.

Plagg stuffed half of the wheel into his mouth and swallowed. ‘You really think he’d choose a book and a brooch over your ring or Ladybug’s earrings?’ he snorted. ‘When have you had your head last examined?’

‘There’s plenty of jewelry in this house, Plagg,’ the boy countered getting down. ‘But only this brooch was in a hidden, extra secret safe, together with the book on miraculous. You can’t tell me this doesn’t mean it’s important.’

The kwami wolfed the rest of the cheese before replying. ‘This is a shot in the dark, kid. You might regret playing with fire like that.’

‘Well, then, I will get up and keep on trying,’ he shrugged. ‘This is the best I have for now. Are you full?’

‘Never,’ Plagg grinned. ‘But I see that this will have to do.’

Adrien nodded and called the transformation again. He slipped to the office through the window that he had left ajar to find an extremely pale Gabriel in front of the hole in the wall and staring at the little black card with a green paw-print. The man’s brow furrowed in rage, his hands gripping the desktop so tight that his knuckles went white.

Chat Noir sauntered in his direction, flipping open the screen on his baton and scrolling to the pictures of the contents he had taken earlier. He flashed the man a sinister smirk.

‘Looking for something, Hawkmoth?’ he drawled.