#three seater waiting chair

[d-maxhealthcare1]

Three seater waiting chair with cushion

description

Metal Waiting Chairs are perfect for Indoor Use.

Our Metal Waiting Room Chairs have Three Perforated Seats on Abeam.

Use of Latest Technology to Make the Seat Radian 17.45

Degrees to Make the Seating Comfortable for the User.

Rust and Water Resistant.

Chrome Plated Handles and Legs & Powder Coated Seat.

https://dmaxhealthcare.com/product/three-seater-waiting-chair-with-cushion/

[velaryqns]

Please write being Gregory house wife, pregnant with your second child and just domestic life with house, toddler and baby on the way

Peaceful Evenings

Pairing: dad & husband!gregory house x wife, mom, & pregnant! reader

summary: It's late in the evening when Greg gets home from work...

warnings: fluff, pregnancy, I just threw out a random name for the kid when I started writing...so

You looked at the time as you scrolled through the website you were shopping on. You and Greg had recently discussed the need for a new dining room table. The two seater wasn’t going to work much longer, Parker needed to start using a booster and the baby was due in two months. Plus, you’d be able to get James to help set one up if you needed it. None of the tables had grabbed your attention, and you rubbed a hand over your stomach and hummed, “We might have to convince daddy to go to an actual furniture store.”

The baby seemed to kick in response, and you chuckled and closed the laptop. You sat forward more and stretched your back out, then kicked your legs over the bed to go check on your son in his room. Parker was nearly three, but you still frequently worried about him. Greg had tried to calm your nerves about him, as your son wasn’t a restless sleeper, and was usually good about sleeping through the night after settling into a nice routine.

Sure enough, your son was sound asleep in his bed when you peaked in. Across the hall from his room was the nursery, neutral colors with pops of all colors of the rainbow for your new baby. You continued down the hall, one hand against the wall, to the kitchen. You’d spent most of the evening trying to keep Parker entertained and make sure everything was clean after your day at the hospital.

Thankfully, being a nurse didn’t keep you away from your life at home as frequently as House being the Head of Diagnostics did to him. You couldn’t blame him, and knew he didn’t like when he had to call you and say that something was running behind. It wasn’t frequent, as rare cases were called rare for a reason.

He had called ahead of dinner and you told him to get home safe. But now, he should be home any minute. You turned on the kitchen light, adjusting to the brightness as you got a glass of water, as well as made yourself a cup of tea. As you waited for your tea to be done, you sat at the table. You looked around the living room.

Parker had a few toys still lying around that you’d forgotten to pick up, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up this late into the evening. Your eyes were taken from the toys when the sound of keys at the door could be heard. You looked over, smiling at your husband as the door was pushed open.

He had a tired look on his face, but was able to offer you a smile as he set his keys and bag aside. He limped into the kitchen, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You hummed, feeling his hand land on your shoulder and squeeze it gently. He pulled away and grabbed the other chair to sit closer to you, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled at him, cupping your chin with one hand, “Dinner is in fridge if you’re hungry.”

He nodded, patting his hands against the table and rising to his feet. He limped over to the fridge and you turned to watch as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring your tea for you before he brought it over, “You didn’t have to stay up.”

“Don’t just blame me,” you chuckled and patted your stomach, where the baby had finally stilled for the evening as you took the mug from your husband, “I’m hoping some tea will help me sleep though.”

There was silence as his food reheated and you took a sip of your tea, before you hummed with a small smile, "And maybe with you here tonight."

Your husband let out a small chuckle as the microwave went off and he joined you at the table, sitting in the other chair and taking a bite of his food. You sat back in your chair slightly, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug as you watched your husband eat. There were a few minutes of silence before you heard the unmistakable sound of Parker in his room. Your eyes darted toward the clock above the stove, a slight frown forming before you pushed yourself to your feet.

You squeezed a hand on your husband's shoulder, squeezing lightly before you wandered down the hall and into Parker's room. You stepped inside to see him sitting up in bed, a new small one that you'd bribed James into helping House bring into the apartment and set up. You smiled at your son, helping him out of the bed and holding his hand as he walked down the hall.

The toddler's sleepy face instantly lit up when he spotted his father sitting at the dining room table. You let his hand go and allowed him to rush into his father's arms. Parker settled on Greg's lap as you sat back in the chair, stretching your back as you and Greg locked eyes, a small smile on your husband's face while Parker began rattling off, with whatever words he knew how to use, about his day after Greg had left.

You knew then that your husband would take the responsibility of tucking the little boy back into bed, and that you'd join each other in the comfort of your large bed and blankets.

This was nice.

[letthewordsoverflow]

So I saw Anora two days ago and can't get this epilogue out of my head so just imagine this, directly following the end of the movie....

So Igor holds Anora in the car until she stops crying

then finally she gets up and then gets out of the car with a flippant joke about him zipping his dick back in "pervert"

then she takes a few steps back towards the house and then turns back and goes "well? Are you coming?"

So he goes from scrambling to zip up his pants to scrambling out of the car and following her inside

and then they go into the living room and her sister is there w her boyfriend sitting on the couch and shes just like "hey there's some lasagna in the kitchen"

so he follows anora into the kitchen (he'd follow her anywhere) and they get lasagna and they go to join her sister and her bf in the living room to watch the movie and they're cuddled on one side of the 3 seater and anora sits against the other arms so there's space in between but it'd be tight so he sits in the arm chair next to the couch

and they eat their food and are watching and he's super aware of her but definitely NOT looking at her (okay but only from the corner of his eye and she DEFINITELY cannot tell)

at some point she lets out a frustrated sigh and stands up and comes to sit in his lap and cuddles into him

eventually she falls asleep there, with her head curled under his chin, and she stays like that for a long time

he considers asking her sister for a throw blanket but then they get up and go into one of the two bedrooms down the hall

He waits a while longer, just holding her. Shes safe. And she's in his arms.

If you had asked him what he expected from being 30 three days ago, it definitely would not be this. But this, this is so much better.

He stands up and takes her to her room and sets her down in her bed and he moves her hair out of her face and just gazes at her for a second

He moves to leave but she groggily reaches out her arm and says "stay"

so he kicks off his shoes, climbs into bed, and just holds her while they sleep.

and she actually sleeps through the night instead of getting up to work (at some point he woke up to piss and he gently pushed her to ask and she was not pleased about the disruption because she "needs some fuckin rest after the last 48hours")

they wake up the next day at like noon (early for her, late for him)

So they wake up and just look at each other for a moment and then he asks "may I kiss you?" And she says "but I have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she says "you have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she nods, not breaking eye contact but clearly a little bashful at the vulnerability

and theyre kissing and then they're making out and at some point he pulls away and moves to just hold her and shes like "do you...not want to?"

And he goes "I want to, we just don't have to. I'm happy like this." and he cuddles her closer

and she smiles to herself and hides he face into his chest for a moment

but then she moves to straddle him and goes "what if I want to?" And he goes "whatever you want" in the tone that says 'you can have whatever you want and we never have to do anything you don't want' and seeing the sentiment echoed in his eyes has her kissing him with all she's worth (which a lot in his estimation)

and then theyre getting all hot and heavy and she takes off his shirt and moves to take off his pants

when she realizes he's still wearing his jeans so of course she gives him shit for that (but he wasn't going to climb into her bed in his underwear without her go ahead so he just takes her teasing)

and they laugh together as they keep making out and shedding clothes and then she moves to touch him (like she did in the car, but this time it was about him)

He stops her and he asks if he can do something

and she says sure

so he flips them so she's on her back (she knew he was strong, he threw her around a whole bunch not two days ago, but it was different to have him move her like that....it did it for her honestly)

he moves to go eat her out and she starts to stammer that he doesn't need to do that and he says "what if I want to"

like she said before

and then he goes at it for a nice long time

And he makes her cum

like HARD

and so shes like "I finished," meaning to say 'okay cool now im taken care of so over to fucking so you can get off' (that's just how sex works, right) and hes like "who said i am?"

And then keeps at it, making her orgasm a few more times before he even lets her touch his dick

(she can't even recall the last time a guy she was with got her off)

so she's like on cloud nine when she's finally like "stop stop"

he pulls back IMMEDIATELY and asks if she's okay and if he did something wrong

she says no, she's just over sensitive and then next time she cums she would really like if he was inside her

so then he smiles and moves up her body, kissing her along the way, to get into position

and he kisses her (she loves the taste of herself on him) and then asks if she has a condom

she says she does "but....also....we don't need to use one of you don't want to"

hes very confused

so she gets nervous and starts to ramble about how she always ALWAYS uses protection w clients and she gets tested all the time and knows shes clean (to which he says "me too") and she has an iud but its also totally cool if he wants one because she has been w a lot of partners (bc she assumes he doesn't bc of a judgement for her profession)

meanwhile hes just confused bc it didnt even ocurr to him she may want that

so he asks what she wants and she says no condom (which is kinda the biggest display of trust and intimacy she has bc she is METICULOUS about protection) (even w Ivan who, she was seeing exclusively for what is a long time in her book, she always made him use a condom)

so then they have sex

and he hits a smooth slow wave of a rhythm that really works for her

and he uses one hand to support himself over her and his other to rub her clit

and he just keeps looking at her

and the eye contact and the intimacy are too much and she cums

She cums a lot

and only then does he finally start to lose his rhythm until he's moaning into her neck as he cums

And then he rolls off her and she must be the sappiest bitch in Brooklyn because she misses having him inside her

And then he is just lying next to her breathing heavily for a moment before he quickly gets up and puts on his pants and walks out

and she feels like she must have whiplash bc they were just so intimate (more intimate than she's been with a guy in.... god she doesn't want to think of how long it's been like this)

and he's just gone

like every other guy

maybe this was all just a good fuck to him

Maybe he saw the opportunity to fuck the sex worker, knew it'd be a good time, and now he was done

she's working herself up, even though a whispering voice in the back of her mind kept saying he couldn't have gone far without shoes....or a shirt....or his phone and car keya....

by the time he comes back and shes convinced herself that he was using her and she shouldn't have let him in or trusted him or slept in his arms all night

So she starts to yell at him, which she certainly has a talent for

At first he's confused but he slowly approaches her and sits on the edge of the bed

and he looks down at his hand and then at her, asking for permission

and only then she realizes he came back with a glass of water and a warm damp towel - to clean her up, she realizes as he gently and methodically starts to clean her thighs

she sips at the cool water he handed her as she watches him slowly tend to her

then he sets the towel and glass down (after taking a sip himself... somehow his swallow was a turn on? What is happening to her?)

and he takes is jeans back off and climbs back into the bed and pulls the covers up over them and pulls her to his chest until they both fall back to asleep.

Later he drives her to work at the strip club, kisses her goodbye, and says he'll pick her up later.

As he watches her walk into HQ he can't help but think how much his grandmother is going to love her.

[garagesesh]

when we are together

pairing(s): obi wan kenobi x (f!) reader

summary: a glimpse in the life of anakin’s best friends three years after mustafar

warning(s): angst lol

a/n: this is kind of a part two to my anakin story. i have been absent apologies i started school again and a part time job :,) plus the holidays was a horror. idk if this is good or not it’s just been on my mind. title is from the 1975. 

␛ to masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tatooine

16 ABY

The binoculars clicked as you scanned the barren wastelands of Tatooine. The binary suns already beginning to dip beyond the horizon and the desert chill billowed through your sand colored robes.

Where was he?

You couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that he had been found.

By him.

By Vader.

Goosebumps spread across your skin, your hair standing at attention in fear. This couldn’t be the end, you wanted to reach for the force, for comfort, for calm.

Three standard years had passed somewhat quietly and without much incident. The child was doing well, growing steadily in the peaceful home just over the mountains.

The anticipation of danger without knowing where Obi-Wan was and the looming threat of him and his Empire had washed any sort of safety.

Through the binoculars, a spot that was moving at rapid pace rose just above the horizon

A speeder, not of your own came across the desolate sand and rock.

Faster and faster it sped towards you. Glimpsing one last time into the binoculars before completely discarding them in your robes, your breathing hitched and your hand reached for the blaster hidden in your belt.

You didn’t raise to aim but you waited with a finger on the trigger. The speeder got louder and closer. Barreling towards you at unprecedented speed.

A figure with a dark hood and a heavy pack was now identifiable. Sighing you slipped the blaster back into the hidden holster, crossing your arms over your chest. Waiting.

“You scared the living stars out of me!” You huffed. “You know that?!” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t say anything as he powered the speeder down.

“You could’ve commed!” Your hands found your hips. Disappointed and mostly anxious. “Where were you and what is this?”

“Mos Eisley.” Obi-Wan sighed as he gracefully slid off the speeder. He nodded towards the faded-brown speeder. It wasn’t by any means a brand new speeder, it had blaster marks and sand erosion but it was nicer than the old piece of junk you two had salvaged from the Jundland wastes.

“We had a perfectly good one.”

“This one is faster and actually a two seater.” He countered

“We don’t have the credits Obi-Wan!”

“I’ll pick up a second job.”

Always the negotiator.

Huffing you left the older man with the speeder, vanishing into the hut to continue the dinner that was boiling on the stove. Rations again.

Stirring the pot of rice, you lost yourself into the swirls of brown and white. Letting the steam envelope your fear. Only did a warm hand on your waist, trying to squeeze by in the small surroundings pull you out.

“Excuse me.” You hummed as his hand dragged off your waist.

The hut was small, enough space for the two of you but none for a third. The entrance of the home opened to the living room, where in one corner was a makeshift bedroom that was concealed by a blanket you had found. You shared the bed. He had tried for the first cycle on Tatooine to sleep on the small, uncomfortable couch before you finally offered the other side of the bed.

The other corner was a small dining table with two chairs. The kitchen was a step up and had a window into the living space and only one bathroom that was old and needed work.

But it was home.

You ate in silence, feeling guilty of your outburst from earlier.

“I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I was harsh.”

“It’s alright.” He gracefully spooned the soup into his mouth without another word. Obi-Wan cleared the plates and cleaned the dishes, humming a soft tune.

It wasn’t until you had both showered, hair still damp and covered in the blankets of your shared bed, you finally broke the silence.

“I checked on him while you were gone.” Your finger delicately traced the small constellations of freckles on his warm shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you had or not.”

Obi-Wan shifted. “Thank you.”

“He’s so big now.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I can feel him in the force.” You could feel the buzz of the young boys force. Powerful and strong. You didn’t have to reach in to feel him.

“He’s very strong.” Obi-Wan shifted once more, his entire body now facing your own. His large, calloused hand reached into your hair, his thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t know had fallen.

“You feel it too?” You whispered.

“Yes.” He smiled bitterly. “I can feel his presence even now. I’m worried about his strength and what would happen if…”

Obi-Wan trailed off, unable to say the name out loud. Afraid to bring forth the man in existence right then and there in your shared bed.

“Vader.” You whispered for him.

He nodded, his hand still entwined.

Silence enveloped you once more. The blue light of the moon shining through the slotted windows and onto your faces.

“I’m scared.” You admitted, holding his gaze. “Lonely.”

He said nothing in return. His deep blue eyes scanned your face.

After three years, you had shared a last name. Paraded as a married couple to neighbors. Held hands through the market. Light touches as he brushed by. Held you sometimes at night.

But nothing more.

Obi-Wan’s hand untangled from your hair and down the slope of your neck. His thumb caressing the contour of your collarbone.

You thought he was going to kiss you. Finally slot his lips onto your own and maybe even take you right then.

But his hand completely withdrew from you, leaving the warm skin now bitter cold.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He turned over, his bare back now facing you.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist | can I interest you in pt. 2?

[euovennia]

you are in love | kyle 'gaz' garrick

pairing: reader x gaz

a/n: decided i wanna start writing some fics for other characters on the weekends. not to worry, my 'widow' series will still be updated weekly, but i think it'll be nice to have a little mix. thanks for reading, i hope you all enjoy!!

written with a gender neutral reader in mind, but please let me know if there's any mistakes and i'll fix it asap!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Drink in hand, you lean back in your chair as you watch three drunken girls drag your dear friend Gaz onto the small platform. One of the women stumbles over to the DJ and begins talking with him while the others disperse the wireless microphones to one another. You can see Gaz politely trying to reject the microphone and move past her, but is inevitably stopped when one of the women practically shoves it in his hand and slings an arm around his shoulder.

Upon seeing the look of pure bewilderment and confusion across Gaz’s face at the action, you merely take a sip of your drink in an attempt to fend off the incoming fit of laughter bubbling in your chest.

You watch as Gaz’s eyes move from the woman drunkenly clinging onto his side over to you who was sitting at your two seater table with a wide grin and a twinkle in your eye. He opens his mouth to shout something to you, but is stopped by a wave of colorful lights hitting him in the face as the opening notes of ‘Fantasy’ by Mariah Carey begin to flood out of the speakers.

He can only watch as your smile grows wider with you adding in a teasing thumbs up as the lyrics begin to fill the colorful room and his newfound group of friends start belting out the song in an alcohol induced haze. He remains quiet as he stares you down with a hint of faux annoyance and betrayal dotting his brown eyes, his once immoveable frame now being awkwardly swayed by the clumsy jostling of the group around him.

By this point you were well aware it was way past midnight and while normally you wouldn’t have even considered staying out so late, you had a rather long week courtesy of your prying family and god awful boss. As a result, you readily agreed when Gaz had suggested you grab some drinks at a karaoke bar not too far from your apartment. Now on your fourth piña colada, you were starting to feel rather tipsy.

So, when his face went from one of mild awkwardness and discomfort to one of mischief and amusement you didn’t question it. Even as he leaned down to say something in the girl’s ear. Even as he pointed over to your direction and the girl lit up in pure joy and excitement. Even as she clumsily made her way over to you, grabbed your hand, and began pulling you toward the direction of st-

Wait what.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing beside Gaz with your half finished drink in one hand and a microphone in the other as bright beams of colorful lights strobed across your face. You looked up to see him trying, and failing, to hold back a smug smile as he witnessed you fall victim to the same fate as him.

Refusing to give into his little game, you pushed your drink into his hands before offering him a wink and offering the girl who had practically ambushed you your hand. She accepted it with a giddy smile and soon enough you were belting out the chorus of ‘Fantasy’ with your new best friend whose name you didn’t even know.

As the bridge begins to play out, you halt your singing and allow the other girls to take over. You glance over to Gaz who had since traded his spot on the stage for a new table that sat only a few feet from the stage. You watch as a soft smile spreads across his lips, an unfamiliar gleam of something unknown shining in his eyes.

Just as your feet begin to move in the direction of him, you’re pulled back by the gentle tug of the girl holding onto your hand as she points her gaze at the held tightly in your hand in a gentle ask of you to finish out the song.

You flash a small smile toward Gaz who is still sporting that same look in his eyes before turning away and finishing out the song.

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

“You mind giving me some more hustle, Kyle? You know how Julie gets when people are late,” You call out as you tap a quick message to your shared group chat with a few of your friends.

With nearly all your attention wrapped up into your phone, you fail to catch the sound of Gaz’s bedroom door creaking open as you swipe away from your messages app in favor of a mindless game of Tetris while you wait. Entranced by the colorful blocks, you jump off the couch with a yelp as you attempt to shake off the feeling of the unexpected hand creeping onto your shoulder. Your bout of fright comes to a steady decline as you hear the laughter of your friend fall from his lips.

“What was that? You scared the bloody fuck out of me,” You exclaim as you grab a throw pillow and hit him in his chest.

He fends off your attack with a smile before straightening out his posture.

“I need your opinion.”

You huff, “With what?”

He holds up two long-sleeved button up shirts, one a dark navy and the other a olive green.

“Which one?”

“This is why you’re taking so long? You couldn’t decide on what shirt to wear?”

“Hey, I have a shirt on. I just couldn’t decide what to throw over it.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Julie makes fun of my undershirts.”

“That doesn’t even–” you begin.

He throws you a pleading look.

“–Nevermind. I like the navy, you should go with that,” You concede.

He lets out a sigh of relief and offers you a small smile before tossing the green button-up aside and shrugging on the navy one before beginning to button it up. You look down at your phone as another text from Julie pings in.

“She’s already at the restaurant.”

“She’s just early. No need to worry about it anyway, I’m ready to go.”

You look up at his admission and your eyes immediately dart toward his misbuttoned shirt. A quiet laugh escapes your lips as you drop your phone on the couch and walk toward him, stopping just a few inches shy of him. Your hands make their way up his chest as you begin to undo the buttons.

“You always do this,” You remark with a small smile.

He opens his mouth to respond and, already knowing his response, you speak in tandem.

“Buttons are hard.”

He looks down at you with a smile, “You’ve been spending too much time with me.”

“Who else am I gonna suffer through dinners with if not you?”

A hearty laugh fills the air as his chest rumbles with joy. A few beats of silence pass before he speaks again.

“You know…I could get used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“You undressing me.”

Your fingers stop in their tracks as your cheeks begin to heat up. Not sure how to respond without becoming a stuttering mess, you remain quiet. The silence drones on a bit longer but before it can become completely awkward, Gaz lightly grabs onto your right wrist as his other hand gently lifts your head to face him.

“What’s wrong, was that too much?”

Knowing you couldn’t leave him hanging you reply, “N-No.” “Then what,” He quietly asks.

You find yourself staring into his eyes with baited breath, a warm feeling begins to surge through your body. You shouldn’t be feeling like this.

You gulp, “I was just thinking about how I should tell you that your shirt is stained.”

His face falls as he looks down at his shirt.

“Bloody hell!”

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

The light reflects

The chain on your neck

“I just don't think you waking me up this late is fair. You know I’ve got a rubbish sleep schedule as is, not to mention I have work in the morning.”

Gaz peers at you from the corner of his eye as he responds, “Well I don't, so you can crash with me. Besides, you’re tearing me down an awful lot for someone who jumped at the chance to get a latte,” He states with a smug smile.

You hold up an empty wrapper in your hand, “You know I can't eat my coffee cake without a latte!”

“...Could’ve saved it for the morning.”

Your face scrunches up in a faux fit of anger as you reach over the console and swat his arm with your hand.

“Hey, you can't attack the driver! What if we got into an accident?”

“At least it was with you,” You say before leaning back into the chair and taking a sip of your latte as Gaz comes to a stoplight.

A comfortable silence overcomes the two of you as he takes a quick glance at you, his eyes falling on the necklace wrapped around your neck with a small glow.

“I didn't think you'd still have that,” He says with a quick motion to your neck.

Your hand subconsciously lifts to gently toy with the medallion hanging off the end of the gold chain, “You brought this back for me all the way from Egypt. Of course I still have it.”

Gaz returns his attention back to the road he resumes driving, “I’m glad you do, you make it look good.”

You’re not sure if your next actions were because you were still tired and didn't have much awareness, or because you genuinely wanted to do it, but you can't find it in yourself to care as your hand finds his spare one and intertwines your fingers.

“I love being with you.”

You’re asleep before you can hear his response.

He says, "Look up"

And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch

But you felt enough

You and Gaz were currently sitting beside each other on a fleece blanket as the gentle glimmer of the stars and moon shone down on the two of you. Earlier this week gaz had broken the news that he was set out to go on another one of his top secret missions. Despite you two having gone through this cycle plenty of times before, the mere thought of sending him off knowing full well that there’s a chance he’d never come back to you was as nerve wracking as it was the first time. As a result you’d come to spend every waking moment with him before he was set to depart and, naturally, this included late night picnics spent in the comfort of each other. Despite the two of you being completely silent, you were still able to find solace in the mere presence of one another. You hadn’t had that before him.

You were brought out of your string of thoughts as Gaz nudged into you with his shoulder, “What’s on your mind?”

You looked up at him with a small sigh, “Do you have to go?”

A small frown wove itself onto his lips as he spoke, “You know I do.”

You knew there was no point in fighting against it, he was right after all.

“You shouldn’t have to,” You mumbled.

You felt his knee brush against yours as he continued, “I know, love. I’m sorry.”

The silence made itself apparent once again, but it didn’t have the woven comfort of serenity you had come to love. You can’t stand it.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?”

He looks to you, “Anything.”

“Will you promise to come back?”

He sighs as a pit of despair makes its home into his chest, “You know I can’t promise that, love. Things go wrong all the time, I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Just promise me, Kyle. Even if it’s not possible or if you don’t mean it. I just need the peace of mind, “ You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded at this point. You just needed him to say it.

His hand slowly inched its way toward yours before firmly grasping it in his as he looked into your eyes, “I promise I’ll come back for you.”

The two extra words didn’t go unnoticed.

You squeezed his hand and offered him a weak smile as he did the same to you. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, you were interrupted by Gaz nudging your shoulder and pointing up at the sky, “Look!”

You followed the direction of his pointed finger and let out a small gasp upon seeing two shooting stars flying side by side.

“Come on, love, make a wish,” He practically beamed as he let go of your hand and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to rest against his side.

Praying he couldn’t feel fast your heart was beating or how hot your skin had gotten, you both sit in silence as you make a wish.

You can only hope his is the same as yours.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

Yawn escaping your mouth, you open your eyes only to be met with the blinding light of the morning sun peeking through the thin curtains. You slowly sit up as you move the sheets off your body. You look to the side of you to reveal Gaz already gone. You let out a small hum as you swing your legs off the bed and onto the ground, a chill being sent up your spine as your bare feet make contact with the cold vinyl. You cross your arms, hugging them close to your torso as you wander out of his bedroom only to be met with the strong stench of something burning. A small pool of worry floods your mind as you quickly make your way over to the kitchen, only slowing when you hear a small groan of frustration. You narrow your eyes before poking your head into the kitchen, all of your anxiety flushing away from your body as you see Gaz moving a burnt piece of toast onto a plate. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up at you with a sheepish smile.

“I uh…I tried making some food for us but,” He gestures to the burnt toast.

An easy smile plants itself on your face as you walk over to Gaz and pick up the piece of toast.

“Still better than that time you tried making waffles.”

He rolls his eyes with an exaggerated groan, “I swear the recipe said a tablespoon of salt, not a teaspoon!”

You scrunch your nose, “Those things tasted bloody awful and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you’re right?”

“I can read,” He exclaims.

“Not well enough apparently,” You say with a laugh.

Gaz shakes his head as you laugh at his expense.

“So, we going out for some food or what?”

You shake your head, “No. We can just make something here. I don’t really feel like sharing you with the world quite yet.”

“You can’t keep me holed up in here forever.”

You break off a piece of his failed toast and flick it at him, “I can certainly try.”

You two share a small laugh before he speaks up again.

“I’m sorry for showing up like that yesterday. It didn’t really occur to me to change out of my gear until your co-workers nearly screamed bloody murder.”

You wave him off, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you came back to me.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

You look up at him, “Well it’s like you said, things go wrong all the time.”

Gaz lets out a small sigh before he reaches forward and grabs onto your hands, “I’m always gonna try my best to come back to you, you know that right?”

“I know. ”

Gaz maintains a steady gaze on you before his eyes flicker down to your lips. You tighten your grip on his hands as you feel your heart speed up. You watch with a heated stare as he slowly leans in closer, pupils dilated. He stops just a few hairs shy of your lips, your bodies practically shaking in anticipation.

He disconnects his hand from yours before moving them to toy with the hem of -your- his shirt, “You always did like stealing my shirts.”

Your cheeks grow impossibly hotter.

“I didn’t wanna forget what you smelled like.”

You take in a shaky breath, “Where does this leave us?”

“I don’t know…But I really wanna kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

His lips finally meet yours.

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

It had been just under seven months since that glorious Sunday morning in Gaz’s apartment. All had been well until about two weeks ago when Gaz had arrived back home after being sent away on yet another mission. You had expected a call from him asking you to come over or even a spontaneous visit by him, but instead you had received a message from him that simply read, ‘Home.’

While you were rather put off by his blunt announcement of his much anticipated arrival, you decided to chalk it up to him just being tired. It was just after eleven at night when you got the message, you were just grateful he said anything at all.

With it being the weekend, you woke up later than you normally did throughout the week, just before ten o’clock. You knew Gaz was an early riser as a result of his job and so you reached for your phone hoping for some type of message, but were left disappointed as you saw none. No big deal you thought, perhaps he just needed some time to himself to decompress. You could be patient.

Unfortunately, you weren’t known for your patience and so by the third day of radio silence from your lover, you had decided to march over to his apartment after your night shift had ended.

You bring your hand up to rap your knuckles against his red door, he always did love a pop of color. After a few moments of nothing, you continue knocking only to be met with the same disappointment. You let out a dejected sigh as you turn your attention to the watch wrapped around your wrist.

‘11:54’

It was a perfectly reasonable time for him to be asleep and not a reasonable one for you to be waiting outside his doorstep like some lovesick fool. With one last glance at your watch, you turn around and begin walking away from his apartment door. You’re stopped in your tracks when you hear the familiar sound of a lock clicking and the quiet creak of a door. You turn back to see Gaz poking his head out the door, eyes tired and face sporting a new scar across his cheek from what you could tell. You quietly stared at him for a few moments before he slowly opened the door wider as he stepped aside, giving you room to walk in. You can’t stop yourself from flinging yourself into his arms.

You hear the door close and the quiet click of the lock behind you before you feel his arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you tighter against him. As happy as you are to finally be in arms, you can’t help but feel a hint of anger and annoyance surge through your chest as you pull away from the hug.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You watch as Gaz’s face falls into a look of shame.

“I…I didn’t wanna see you.”

You can feel anger and annoyance dull into hurt as you pull back from him completely, “What?”

Shit, I–” He huffs.

“–I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nearly scoff, “Then how did you mean it? You didn’t respond to any of my calls or texts for three days and then when I finally come to you, you say you didn’t wanna see me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to pull himself together, “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…I needed some time to myself. I didn’t want you seeing me like this.”

At his admission, you let your eyes roam over him. Bruised arms, slouched shoulders, bandages pressed against the side of his neck, and the prominent bags under his eyes say more than he ever could. How the hell did you miss all of this?

You let out a sigh as you step closer to him, taking his hand into yours.

“Mission didn’t go so well then, I’m assuming?”

He wraps himself around as he buries his face in your neck, “Complete shit.”

You bring him closer and hold him in your arms as you bring your free hand up to lightly brush your fingers across the nape of his neck.

“You should’ve told me, love. Had me worried sick.”

His apology is muffled through your skin.

You slowly pull back from the tender embrace and bring your hands to rest on either side of his face, “Let’s try and get some rest, yeah?”

He only nods before you’re grabbing onto his hand again and leading him back to his room. He settles on the bed as you go into his closet and exchange your stuffy work clothes for one of his old t-shirts he keeps around for you when you sleep over. You emerge from the closet and flick off the light before climbing into bed with him. You lay on  your side for a short while before he pulls you closer to him, your head resting comfortably on his chest as his arm is wrapped securely around your waist. You look up and upon seeing his eyes flicker to the corners of the room, you bring a warm hand to rest on the side of his face causing him to look down at you.

“I’ll keep watch, love. Get some rest.”

He seems to hesitate as his eyes flicker back up to the rest of the room. You lightly stroke your thumb against his cheek and, with a small sigh, he takes your hand and gives it a small peck before eventually closing his eyes.

True to your word, you dutifully keep watch as Gaz slowly catches up on some much needed rest. You’re awake as the night seems to grow darker, you’re awake when your friend buzzes your phone with some nonsense about her ex-boyfriend, and you’re awake when Gaz awakens with a small gasp just after three in the morning. You gently trail a comforting hand along his arm as you look up at him to see he’s already staring down at you.

“You’re still awake?”

“I told you I’d keep watch, didn’t I?”

He’s quick to fall into silence as he stares at you, his eyes soft and breathing slowing to a more steady pace.

“What’s on your mind?”

He gulps.

“You’re my best friend…You know that right?”

His mouth says one thing, but you know he means something else; a hidden meaning. You just feel lucky enough to know what it is.

“I love you too.”

He cups your cheeks with his large hand and plants a soft kiss to your lips.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

Hands intertwined, you allow Gaz to walk you through the snow covered streets of London. He’d managed to gain a few weeks leave after a particularly brutal mission that had practically made him disappear off the face of the Earth for just under three months. It was hard on you as it always was, but you had faith that he’d come back. He hadn’t dared break his promise he made to you once under that starry night for three whole years and he could hardly bear the thought of it now, especially now.

“For Christ’s sake, Kyle we’ll make the reservation, just slow down,” You cried out with a laugh as he weaved through the crowd.

“We’ve got five minutes until they pass off our table to someone else, we’ve gotta hurry!”

Tired as you were from running around you simply allowed him to drag you along without complaint. He’d been real strung up today, something quite odd and unusual for him, but you just assumed it was a result of him being in such a crowded place. You figured he’d feel more relaxed once you got back to the hotel you two were staying at.

Finally slowing to a walking pace, the two of you stepped into the rather fancy restaurant as Gaz approached the smiling host.

“Hi, I have a reservation for two under the name Garrick.”

The host gave you two a warm smile before looking down at his book, his smile quickly replaced by an awkward frown.

“I’m sorry to inform you, but your reservation was slated for six o’clock, not seven o’clock." Yours and Gaz’s face had dropped at the news, with Gaz being the one to speak up.

“What? N-No, I reserved it for seven o’clock. What do you mean we’re an hour late?”

The host turned the book over to him as Gaz read over it himself. His grip on your hand tightened considerably before letting out a defeated sigh, “I see…I suppose we’ll just show ourselves out then.”

He gently pulls you along with him back outside as he somberly hails the nearest taxi. You clamber in the backseat with him as you try to start a conversation with him to no avail. You eventually decide that it's probably best to simply remain quiet, at least until you both get to the room.

Soon enough the taxi parks outside your hotel and, after paying the fare, the two of you begin your silent walk to your room on the fourth floor. After a slightly awkward elevator ride you eventually get to the door of your room as you wait for Gaz to retrieve the room key from his wallet. He pulls it out and quickly searches through the pockets before his face drops in a mix of anger and despair.

“Bloody fucking hell,” He groans out as he leans his back against the door and slides down it until he's sitting on the floor.

Your eyes widen at the sight before kneeling beside him and speaking, “What's wrong?”

He tosses his wallet to the ground beside him with a huff, “I think I left the key in the room.”

You place a reassuring hand in his thigh, “That's alright, we can just call someone and–”

You're cut off by him removing your hand from his thigh as he speaks,

“I don't wanna call anyone. Just leave me here and let me stew in my despair.”

Your brows knit in confusion, “Love, it's not a big deal. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Oh Christ, it's not about how long it’ll take. Today was supposed to go better than this, I had it all planned out and it's just gone to shit! Everything's ruined,” He declared.

You decided to take a seat beside him on the carpeted ground, “Okay, maybe today hasn't been…Ideal. But we can still go out and grab some dinner, it's not all gone to waste don't you think?”

“It's not about that, darling.”

“Then what is it about? As far as I’m concerned, you're just making me dirty my clothes by sitting on the ground with you like this.”

“I had a whole plan for tonight. We were gonna grab dinner, walk along the Thames, and I was gonna–” He stops himself.

You narrow your eyes.

“You were gonna what?”

“Nothing, it’s not im–”

You cut him off, “What? Were you gonna throw me in or something? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

His eyes widen in horror as he sputters out a response, “N-No! Never! I just don't think what I was gonna do matters much anymore, that's all!”

“I bet you're thinking of some other way to get rid of me now, aren't you? I’ll bet that’s what this whole trip was about, wasn't it?”

Going off the panicked expression on his face, you know you should probably put an end to your teasing but you can't help but indulge yourself a bit. He is rather cute when he’s flustered.

Upon receiving no response from him, you sigh.

“Well…I suppose I should take my leave then. Don't wanna be in the company of someone who wants to get rid of me,” You state as you slowly begin to pick yourself up off the ground.

Your movements are quickly halted when Gaz pulls you down by your forearm however.

He sighs as you give him an expectant glance.

“If I tell you what I was planning, will you stop accusing me of trying to murder you?”

You nod.

He lets out a small sigh before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small velvet box. Your jaw goes slack and your eyes widen as you feel your body freeze. Gaz goes to say something, but stops as he sees your surprised face.

Of course, he thinks to himself, The of you hadn’t even talked about marriage.

He tightens his grip on the small box as he tries to think of an apology that won't make you want to smack him in the face and leave him in the dust. Unfortunately, his mind just seems to go blank. Gulping down the last shred of his diminishing pride, he goes to put the box back in his suit pocket but is stopped by your hand gripping onto his wrist. He looks up at you, confusion swimming around in his eyes.

You suck in a deep breath before speaking, “Aren't you going to ask?”

It’s his turn to be surprised.

“W-What?”

“I’m assuming there's a ring in that box, right?”

He nods.

“Then why haven’t you asked me yet?”

He freezes for a moment as his eyes alternate between you and the velvet box in his hands.

“You really want me to?”

You nod.

At your confirmation, he opens the box with shaky hands as he looks at you.

“Darling…I promise you that I had a whole speech planned in my head, but I can't remember a single thing from it now,” He has to stop himself from laughing at his own ridiculousness.

“But, I do love you. With all my heart. I am so stupidly in love with you and I can't even bear the thought of living another day without being able to call you mine forever. Will you make me the happiest man alive and ma–”

He’s cut off by you springing forward and smashing your lips against his as a steady stream of tears flows down your face. After a few moments, you pull back and lean your forehead against his as you whisper out your answer.

“Yes.”

'Cause you can hear in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

[sardonic-courtney]

Scarf.

Spencer Reid x Reader.

Words: 1182

Warnings: Suggestive. Mentions of Sugar daddy. OOC Reid.

Summary: The team decided to go to Spencer's for take away and find out about his girlfriend.

»»———-　　———-««

The BAU had finished for the week, which means…yep a long Friday full of paperwork from the usual case they had finished yesterday. A normal case, well as normal as a murder case could be. Relatively smooth and simple, bodies in different doll outfits lead to a woman who had a a bad childhood and was using the victims as dolls. So everyone was tired, even Rossi looking worn out.

Spencer Reid, wearing a light grey shirt, top button undone, a black tie with a little embroidery that seemed to be his new favourite and some trousers, grabbing his dark grey jumper was just ready and excited to go home to see her. She was not a secret, but Spencer had also failed to mention his girlfriend of a year and a half..to anyone. He had no reason to. He was ready to leave until Derek came up to him.

“Take away at your house today wonder boy” Derek states, not a question but also not a demand…and as usual Spencer is too awkward to say no, especially when the team seems to perk up at the idea and is excited about it.

Penelope squeals, “Yes! Oh, we haven't been to Spencer’s in aaggeeees. Brilliant idea Chocolate Thunder”.

"I could definitely go for a Chinese," Emily states nodding.

"Wills got the kids so I'm happy to come," JJ adds already grabbing her coat.

That's how the whole BAU team ended up on the sofa and chairs in Spencer's apartment. Hotch and Rossi instantly took the two-seater undoing some shirt buttons to relax. Derek, Penelope and Luke on the three-seater. JJ and Emily sit on the armchairs all chatting and making themselves at home. Spencer stands in the half-joint kitchen, shirt sleeves rolled up and he turns to the cupboard about to get drinks for them as they wait for the takeaway…

But the front door opens, and Y/n walks in from her classes, tired but happy to be home. She takes her shoes off at the door and places her bag on the kitchen counter not looking towards the couches or chairs that joins the kitchen she walks up towards Spencer, oblivious. The now silent BAU team looked confused, Derek slightly amused. 

“You” Y/n starts walking towards Spencer with a big grin, “Are a genius”. Her smile is infectious and one Spencer loves. Spencer's focus is on her now and only her as he chuckles slightly, the team are surprised by the look on Spencer's face, affectionate caring and amused. She gains all of his attention, but he forgets to mention they’re not alone as Y/N wraps her wool scarf around his neck.

“Honestly, a Genius,” she smiles, emphasizing the word whilst admiring him.

“I am aware of that, but do care to elaborate love?” Spencer asks amused, his eyes flick down to the scarf about to comment but Y/n does before he can.

“What? I think it suits you” She bites her lip. “Well, okay,  maybe not like this… But if it was in a more Sherlock way…”

She adjusts the scarf, folding it in half then wrapping it around his neck and threading the end through the loop, nodding at her handiwork, proud of herself clearly the two are comfortable around each other it wouldn't take a profiler to notice.

“That's not what I was going to say, '' Spencer commented looking at her, his brain noting her cute expressions.

“Oh right…Well, I got my test results back.”

“Really?” his face lights up, curious, “What did you get?” 

Y/n pulls herself up and sits on the kitchen counter, her back facing the on-looking strangers. “On what?” she asks with a teasing smirk.

“Results Y/n, what are your results,”

“Oh see that depends on what you are asking about” 

He shakes his head, and a little stern he says “All of them princess”.

With a faint blushing on her cheeks, she pretends to think, “Hmmm let’s see… Practical assessment Distinction, Witten assessment pass, pregnancy negative and the Oral assessment distinction”.

Spencer gives her a look.

“What you said is all of my results, that's all of them.” she chuckles.

“Well good job I'm very proud of you” he says, chuckling, shaking his head a little but is cut off by her stomach growling. His face fills with concern “Did you buy food today?”

“With what money? I'm on my apprenticeship wage, I looked in my account today and I have £32.48. I'm two days away from standing on the corner of my street”

Spence rolls his eyes at her dramatic comments.

“You know what I need..” she asks eyes lighting up a little.

“What?” Spencer asks seriously, missing the playfulness in her tone, removing the scarf from his neck, gently and neatly folding the scarf in his large hands and placing it on the counter by Y/n’s legs.

“A sugar daddy” Her face is relaxed and serious even though she's joking, and she gives a small grin.

He shakes his head chuckling again to himself “You do not need a sugar daddy”

“Oh right because I've already got one” Y/n nods smiling as if it's obvious.

“Hmm, you do, do you?” He raises an eyebrow crossing his arms in front of his chest, his work shirt tightening his body.

“Yeah you,” she states with an unspoken, duh. 

Derek has to fight a laugh.

“I'm not your sugar daddy” The sternness in his voice and the towering position over Y/n isn’t supporting his statement.

“Hmmm, are you sure about that?” Y/n has a bratty smile on her face.

“Definitely,” Spencer replies, his tone not showing any amusement.

“Spence, define sugar daddy.”

“Well the Oxford dictionary defines it as a well-to-do usually older man who supports or spends lavishly on a mistress girlfriend or boyfriend,” he states factually not clocking her plan. 

Smlining as her plans works, “Exactly, you are even a little older than me”

“I don’t…” Spencer starts but is cut off by the look on Y/n’s face.

“Well technically”

Reid blushes

She giggled as she looked past him to the side, “Oh you got me more sodas?”

“Sure did, oh by the way” he goes to his coat that's hanging on the hook getting a small box from the pocket and tosses it her way. “It's a well done for all your studying and tests and passing your apprenticeship, I saw it and thought you would like it.”

Opening it she sees it's a beautiful ring, her favourite metal and in a tiara shape.

“Spencer, oh wow, I love it…you shouldn't have you are the reason I passed. All those study sessions and notes and prepping”

“I wanted to” he walked over, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it on her pointer finger, perfect fit. “And I knew you would like it”

“Not a sugar daddy my arse” she mumbles.

“Quiet,” he says a little dominance coming out as he kisses her lips, deepening until a certain Aaron Hotchner clears his throat, causing her to freeze and Spencer to pull back, “Oh right, we have guests”

Knowing who it would be she hides her bright red face into Spencer's chest.

[cas-kingdom]

NCIS gang with your OC, watching a horror movie for Abby's bday? <3

It was Abby’s idea, of course. No one else would have opted for a horror movie marathon the moment the sky got dark – in fact, Ducky had requested they change it to an ‘80s English comedy night – but it was Abby’s birthday, and so it was Abby’s choice. Horror movie marathon, it was.

Gibbs had offered to host the little party – Emmie said it was for the sole purpose that he could run down to his basement if he got too scared, to which he’d aimed a light head slap, and she’d ducked expertly out of the way.

So, four NCIS agents, two medical examiners, a forensic specialist, and a teenage girl sat, cramped but cosy, in Gibbs’s living room, surrounded by about twenty blankets and pillows, at least three bowls of popcorn (one of which Tony was keeping safely guarded in his arms), closed curtains plunging them into utter darkness, and a flashlight on the floor in suspiciously close grabbing distance from Gibbs, who had, as expected, protested very audibly against the turning off of all lights.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone, but Tony and McGee didn’t care about the bean bags they’d been assigned. Emmie was squished between a practically bouncing Abby, and Ziva, who, after about twenty minutes into the movie, fell promptly asleep against the side of the sofa. Ducky and Palmer were on the two-seater, while Gibbs sat rigidly in his armchair.

The movie was The Blair Witch Project. Abby was ecstatic, reciting lines the moment the movie started and tugging at Emmie’s arm when a ‘good bit’ was about to come up, which usually meant she needed to cover her eyes. Tony and McGee were fixed on the screen, the former giggling like he was watching a romcom while the latter seeming interested solely in the particulars of the film’s special effects. Ducky occasionally spouted the odd horror movie fact, and Palmer…well. He was just happy to be there.

And Ziva was asleep, so Ziva didn’t care what was going on.

Emmie rarely watched horrors. There was the odd time Abby managed to rope her into one on one of their routine sleepovers, but they tended to be more…placid. Ones she could cope better with, at least. Gibbs, meanwhile, rarely watched movies, let alone horrors, and every time Emmie glanced over, just to see if there was anyone else in the room who was actually as terrified as her, he looked about ready to bolt.

“Oooh, Em, this is a good bit!” Abby said for the tenth time, shaking Emmie’s arm.

Emmie promptly pulled the blanket up to her chin.

“Ha, McGee, that’s you after a night out,” Tony quipped with an immature giggle, pointing a finger at the screen.

“Hilarious, Tony.”

“I do believe that the director of an ‘80’s horror was once charged with murder because one particular scene was so well—"

Even Ducky stopped mid-sentence as the room filled with the eerie sound of kids’ voices coming from the TV.

“Oh…” Tony shuffled backwards on his beanbag. “Oh, God…”

Abby grinned in pure excitement, her eyes fixed on the screen.

McGee’s face contorted into something almost painful.

Palmer was looking anywhere but the screen.

Gibbs pressed himself further back into his chair, hand mere inches away from covering his eyes.

Ziva snored.

And Emmie…

The moment the kids’ voices got louder, she let loose an adamant “nope” and shook herself free of Abby to execute her escape. Clambering ungracefully over Ziva, who somehow stayed asleep, she jumped none-too-gently from her sofa to her dad’s. Gibbs, in need of support as much as his daughter, didn’t spout much more than an oof at the sudden weight before wrapping Emmie in his arms and conveniently hiding his face behind hers.

“Good lord,” Ducky said as the scene continued.

“Uh, I need the restroom.” And that was McGee gone.

“Wait for me!” Palmer quickly followed.

Abby rolled her eyes. “You’re all a bunch of babies.”

Ziva blearily cracked her eyes open. “Babies? How—lovely,” she slurred before promptly returning to sleep.

NCIS Masterpost

[mlmxreader]

Tell Me How I'm Gonna Die | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ okay, the classics, “i wanna know who i’m looking at” with ghost would be very nice 👁️👁️ including mcd, of course ❞

: ̗̀➛ one by one, the members of the 141 and their allies are being picked off and murdered, but who could be behind such a bloody massacre?

: ̗̀➛ swearing, graphic depictions of violence/death/etc, anal sex, sex without lubricant, rough oral, rough sex, breeding kink

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The phone rang loudly, almost looking as if it were going to shake from its position on the wall, when a hand with rough and calloused fingers reached for it; almost middle aged, Sergeant John MacTavish was wearing a light beige knitted jumper and a pair of light blue denim jeans, his mohawk dyed blonde thanks to losing a bet with Captain John Price just three weeks earlier.

He was home on leave for the time being, and wondered who would call at such a time.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” an unknown voice. Maybe it was the wrong number.

John thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yes.”

“Who is this?” The stranger asked, almost curious in nature.

“Who are you trying to reach?” John asked bluntly, pursing his lips slightly.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” He asked, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you have the wrong number,” John huffed, about to put the phone down.

“Do I?”

“It happens,” John replied, rolling his eyes. “Take it easy.”

He put down the phone with a click to make sure that the call had ended; maybe it was just some neighbourhood children pulling a prank, or just someone trying to reach a friend. He didn’t really care either way as he put a tinfoil dish of popcorn on the stove and started humming to himself.

He didn’t think much of the interaction that had just happened, more than anything just wanting to get on with his evening; he had not been home in so long, and he had missed it.

The slightly affluent, middle class house in a nice and snug suburban neighbourhood; white wallpaper and white tiles adorning all the walls, light grey laminate flooring. Chairs and a table made from actual oak, along with fashionably made matching drawers and white countertops.

A sleek black stove that sat atop a sparkling black oven. A light grey two seater sofa and a large television in the living room. It was a nice, large house and by all means showed off exactly what John earned with his military career.

The portable landline in the kitchen rang loudly, making John groan with discontent as he picked it up to answer it, doing his best to keep an eye on the popcorn.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” the unknown voice was back, deep and gruff. “I guess I dialled the wrong number.”

“So why did you do it again?” John huffed, nearly losing his temper as he clenched his jaw.

“To apologise,” the voice soothed.

“You’re forgiven,” John grumbled, rolling his eyes and doing his best not to immediately slam the phone down. “Bye, now.”

“Wait, wait,” the voice sounded desperate. “Don’t hang up.”

John went to look outside the patio, humming at the pitch dark of the garden for a moment; he hoped that the hedgehog house he had built a few summers back was still standing, and was optimistic that it would have drawn a few of the animals in.

“What?” John sighed.

“I wanna talk to you for a second.”

“There’s about nine hundred fuckin’ numbers in this postcode alone,” John pointed out with a harsh bite. “Go fuckin’ bother one of them an’ quit ruinin’ me night.”

This time, he really did slam the phone down, shaking his head in disbelief as he walked over to the popcorn; he gave it a firm shake to make sure that everything was cooking evenly, and knew it would not take long.

The tinfoil was already starting to bubble and force itself upwards. He was just about to head upstairs to get his pyjamas on, when the phone rang again.

“Tae fuck d’you want?!”

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

“Who the fuck is this?” John demanded to know, a scowl upon his lips.

“You tell me your name,” the unknown caller purred. “I’ll tell you mine.”

Rolling his eyes, John went back to his popcorn as he resigned himself to having to talk to the caller. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“What’s that noise?”

He smiled. Maybe it was just someone in the neighbourhood who was lonely; maybe it was the old boy down the street who had lost his wife recently and really was just looking for someone to talk to. “Am making popcorn.”

“You’re making popcorn?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I only eat popcorn at the cinema,” the voice sounded a lot more innocent this time. It probably was just the lonely old man.

“I’m getting ready to watch a few films,” John hummed in return.

“Really?” They sounded quite pleased. “What?”

“Just some shite horror film I found,” he admitted with a soft laugh.

“D’you like horror films?”

“Some are alright,” John mused. “Some are just bullshit, though… I mean, why is the killer always mentally ill? It’s like, y’know, they’re tryin’ to tell us that people with mental illness are all killers, when they really ain’t.”

“What’s your favourite horror film?”

John thought about it for a moment, deciding to sit at the kitchen counter so that he could try and see if any hedgehogs scampered around in the garden. “I dunno.”

“You have to have a favourite, surely.”

“Erm, Halloween. You know, the one with the guy with the white mask who just sorta walks around and stalks the babysitters. What's yours?”

“Guess.”

“Let me guess,” John smiled to himself. “Nightmare On Elm Street?”

“Is that the one where the cunt had finger swords?”

John dared to bark out a soft laugh as he shook his head. “Oh, aye… Fred.”

“That’s right,” the stranger purred. “Freddy Krueger - I liked that one. Proper scary.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” John scoffed. “The first was alrigh’, but the rest? Bunch of shite.”

“So,” the stranger hummed. “You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Significant other?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” He laughed.. “You tryin’ to get in my trousers?”

“Maybe… do you have anyone?”

“Nah.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“You got a nice few hedgehog houses out here,” the stranger hummed. “Don’t you?”

“What?”

“I said I saw some hedgehogs.”

“That ain’t what you said,” John growled. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t hang up on me,” the stranger warned.

John slammed the phone down, shaking his head before going to the door again; he couldn’t see anything, but given how fucking dark it was, he couldn’t say that he was at all surprised.

He clenched his jaw, maybe the stranger was just fucking with him and had walked past his back garden a few times and realised he had hedgehog homes.

Yeah, that was it. That was all it was. He tried to shrug it off, until the phone rang again; clenching his jaw, Soap growled as he picked it up.

“Listen here, ya fuckin’ cunt-”

“No! You listen here you absolute wet wipe!” The stranger snapped. “You hang up on me again and I’ll fuckin’ gut you like a fish! Do you fucking understand?!”

“What kinda bullshit is this?”

“It’s just a little game,” the stranger mused. “That’s all.”

John hummed, shaking his head. “Whaddya want, mate?”

“To see,” the stranger paused, as if grinning. “What your insides look like.”

The doorbell rang, and John shouted from his place near the door. “Who’s there?!”

“Don’t you know not to say who’s there?” The stranger asked. “Don’t you pay attention to films? You’ll get yourself killed.”

John rolled his eyes. Fuck this. “You’ve had your fun, matey - now, please, go onto bonny street and jog the fuck on. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else, I’ll get my boyfriend here,” John snapped. “He’s big, he’s SAS, and he’ll fuckin’ kick your teeth in!”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody.”

“I lied!” John growled. “He’s gonna be here any second!”

“Sure he will… I’m so scared I can’t even hold my cigarette.”

“You best fuck off,” John warned. “He really will kick your ass!”

“His name wouldn’t happen to be Benjamin, now, would it?”

John’s grip on the phone faltered, his hands starting to shake slightly. “How’d you know?”

He nearly dropped the phone as he turned the light on, letting out a scream the second the white light shone through the garden; tied to an old patio chair that John had intended to throw away fucking years ago, was Benjamin himself. Otter.

His head was bleeding, duct tape around his mouth sticky with something red and thick. He was screaming, although it was muttered, and he was still in uniform. John went to grab the other landline.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Where are you?!”

“Why don’t you guess?” The stranger chuckled. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Please,” John whimpered out, swallowing thickly. “Don’t hurt him…”

“Now,” the stranger seemed so fucking smug. “That all depends on you, Soap… I wanna play a game, just a little fun one.”

“No… please… please… just let him go…”

“Ooh, no can do!” The stranger laughed. “C’mon, it won’t take long… just turn off the light… good boy.”

John growled softly under his breath, swallowing thickly, audibly.

“Here’s the rules,” the stranger purred. “I ask a question, and if you get it right - your pretty little Otter lives.”

John crouched behind the sofa, expecting something to be thrown through the door. “Fine! Fine, you cunt! I’ll play - but only if he lives!”

“Good boy, I knew you’d come around,” the stranger chuckled softly. “First question - name the killed in Red Dragon.”

“Francis Dolarhyde!” John yelped helplessly.

“Good boy!” The stranger purred. “Next question, same category… name Hannibal Lecter’s first victim.”

“Mischa!” John howled. “It was Mischa Lecter!”

“Wrong!” The stranger snapped. “The Nazis killed Mischa and fed her to him! His first victim was Paul Momund, the racist butcher!”

“No! No, it was Mischa!” John protested. “I watched it dozens of times! It was Mischa!”

“If you watched it dozens of times then you would know that Hannibal never touched his sister!” The stranger barked. “But, lucky for you - there’s a bonus round! Poor Otter, though? He’s out.”

“No,” John weakly muttered, running towards the back door just in time. “Please, no.”

John’s screams were loud enough to wake the dead as he gazed at the sight outside; Benjamin’s stomach was sliced open, his head sitting on his lap and his cheeks missing. Bitten out.

By instinct alone, John ran outside, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked over Benjamin’s body. The blood seeping onto his hands and making the phone slip when he picked it up again.

“You fucking cunt!” John howled. “You fucking bastard!”

“Final question, Soap.”

“No!”

“Do you wanna fucking end up like your boyfriend?!” The stranger didn’t wait for him to answer, already knowing. “What door am I at?”

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

“There’s two doors to your house, Soap,” they explained, “there’s the back door, where your boyfriend has so beautifully brought to life a scene from Hannibal Rising, and the front door… where… am… I?”

John didn’t dare to hesitate, grabbing the knife from the kitchen counter and steadying himself by the back door; even now, he could feel his training begin to kick in as he tried to hide himself as well as he could.

He worked out that the stranger would likely be at the front door, but when he began heading towards it, there was an almighty crash as the chair that Benjamin was in came thudding through, spraying the clear sharp shards everywhere, one landing in Soap’s arm as he desperately tried to make his way to an escape.

Without thinking, John headed through the new hole, running straight for the corner of the garden with all the speed and strength that he could muster, dropping the phone in the process.

But he was caught by a black leather glove, taking control of his wrist and easily overpowering him; John looked up, his light grey eyes meeting large, black, eyes upon a ghostly white mask.

John screamed, hoping it would at least catch them off guard.

But they brandished their own knife, and slowly cut along his forearm, forcing him to drop his knife and watch as it clattered to the floor. John tried to wriggle through, but the stranger grabbed his neck, and forced him down onto the ground.

Straddling his waist as they used one hand to strangle him as he slowly lost the will and the urge to fight back.

A flash of silver. A deep cut across the flesh of his chest, staining his light jumper so easily.

With ease, the stranger grabbed his leg, and began to drag him away, towards the tree; a rope was already hanging from one of the old and withered branches. All they had to do was hang it around his neck; with his final gasp of breath, John raised his hand, and grabbed the mask, his weak eyes growing slightly wide.

“You…”

The stranger nodded, grinning at him. “Me.”

The stranger hoisted John’s body up, slipping the noose around his neck before beating his stomach with the knife until his entrails spilled out; grabbing the bloodied mask, they hummed, admiring their handiwork for a moment before leaving again.

Home time.

Inside the dusty old garage, the fridge was open, and the wooden steps leading into it were silent despite their age and the recent windy weather; although muffled, it was clear to hear the guests in the next room over.

Simon Riley was late, as always, this time he blamed traffic instead of his significant other who he was bringing with him.

Kyle Gaz Garrick was sitting on the sofa with Farah Karim and Alex Killer, watching an old repeat of Friday the 13th on the television in the living room; they all called out in unison when the protagonists made a fatal mistake.

Inside the garage, though, Captain John Price - a handsome man for his age, grey littering his beard, moustache, mutton chops and hair - was rooting through the old fridge for the drinks that he had bought. Nothing fancy, just some off-brand lemonade and a few energy drinks.

They were all on edge, after the recent murder of one of their own - John Soap MacTavish - but it was understandable that they would be; that’s why they had all gathered at Price’s sprawling and large home in the countryside outside of Liverpool - safety in numbers, and all that.

A few tools fell, and Price immediately pressed his back against the fridge, scowling; he had forgotten to lock the cat door that he had installed.

There were so many left abandoned outdoors, he converted his garage into a little safe haven for them to come and go as they pleased - yet when he had guests over, he always locked it.

With a sigh of relief, he watched the cat scramble away and run through the door, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Bollocks! Easy, John, you’re alright,” he told himself, putting his hand to his chest. “Fuckin’ cats.”

He grabbed the drinks he had promised the others, although when he reached it, he found that it had been locked; furrowing his brows, he figured that maybe Gaz or Farah had locked it in order to keep everybody safe - after all, Price did say to keep all the doors and windows locked.

He was glad that they actually paid attention to what he had said, but he wasn’t exactly happy to be locked in his own garage.

“Fuck… oi! You fucking bellends! I’m still in here!”

Carefully, so as not to shake them, Price set the drinks down on his workbench, and went to turn the light on; it didn’t work, even though he had only replaced the bulbs two weeks ago. He frowned. Maybe it was a blown fuse.

He figured it was nothing huge, so he flicked the switch to lift the garage door, and headed towards it; the drinks could wait, he could grab them when he unlocked the garage door again once he was inside the house.

It was slowly opening, rutting and spluttering as it did so, but then it suddenly slammed down in front of him.

Sighing, Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “I fucking thought I fixed that… for fuck’s sake!”

He turned around, about to head for the switch again, when he saw a tall figure in a black robe, donned in a white mask. Price rolled his eyes as he scoffed.

“Oh, bugger off, Gaz!” He was trying not to smile.

The killer shook their head, silent as they dropped their head slightly.

“Cute, very cute,” Price chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “But what’s this from? Jason Takes Liverpool?”

The killer didn’t even move.

“Lose the getup, lad,” he told him sternly. “Halloween ain’t for another year. You missed it, and you look like a knob.”

The killer shook their head again.

“Oh, alright, I get it,” Price laughed, grinning. “You wanna play serial killer?”

The killer nodded.

“I’m guessing you want me to be the innocent bloke that gets stabbed?”

Another nod.

“Alright, let’s see…” Price clapped his hands once before humming to himself. “Fuck no Mr. Ghostface don’t kill me I want to be in the sequel! How’s that?”

A curt nod.

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he told them with a soft laugh. “C’mon, cut the shit, we should get back to the others - they’re probably thirstier than a skunk on a Tuesday.”

The killer planted their hand against the doorframe, blocking it.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gaz?”

Grabbing his arm, the killer brandished their stained knife, and slashed his wrist across the fine skin with ease; recoiling, Price furrowed his brows.

“What the fuck?!”

He backed away quickly, opening the freezer of the fridge so that it slammed into the killer’s crotch, making them grunt and double over for a moment; he grabbed some old glass bottles that he had intended to turn into lights, and hurled them at the killer as hard as he could.

“Cunt!”

He ran to the door in the garage, but only managed to get his head through, his shoulders trapped by the narrow angles as he grunted and growled, struggling and kicking his legs; he could feel the floor beneath him fading away, and snarled out a few choice phrases as he struggled even more.

Feeling pressure slowly sink onto his neck. A harsh crack echoed throughout the garage, and the killer gave his leg a firm tug before letting themselves into the house through the door.

They were quick, discarding the clothes in the cupboard but keeping the mask in their back pocket before escaping out into the back garden. Immediately, you ran up to them, and hugged them tightly as you grinned.

“How’d you do?”

“Pretty well,” Ghost agreed with a smile, nodding as he put his arm around your shoulders. “I did miss your voice, though.”

You laughed, leaning into him as you put your hand on his chest for a moment. “It’s a shame you’re not covered in blood this time.”

Eyeing you for a moment, Ghost took a look around, and redirected you towards the bottom of the garden. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” you licked your lips, breath hitching at the mere thought. “I fucking love it when you get covered in blood, you know that.”

“Do you want me to wear the mask this time?” He asked, and when you asked him to, he grinned. “I thought so…”

You were more than ready and willing, dropping to your knees the second that he stopped walking; already eagerly holding onto his belt as you let out a shaky sigh. “C’mon, Simon, please?”

“Hang on,” he chuckled, slipping the mask back on. He fumbled with his belt, taking another quick look around before pushing down his trousers and boxers. “Go on, then, baby, show me how much you like it.”

You immediately jumped at the chance, taking his cock in your hand and stroking it as you nuzzled into it; huffing the thick scent and looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. “Like this?”

“Fuck,” Ghost growled softly, resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and force his cock down your throat. “You’re so good to me.”

You smiled, peppering his cock with kisses from the tip to the base before wrapping your lips around the tip and licking his slit. “Can I keep going?”

“Don’t stop until I tell you to,” he demanded, waiting for you to slowly start taking him in your mouth before he pushed down on the back of your neck, bucking his hips quickly.

Fucking your mouth as hard and as fast as he could until he could feel your tears slowly dripping onto his skin; he couldn’t resist it, tilting his head back and groaning softly as he closed his eyes in bliss and kept using your mouth like his own personal little fucktoy.

You gagged when he hit the back of your throat too many times, but you didn’t stop, and you didn’t tap his thigh twice either so he knew that he could keep going; roughly he pushed you away from his cock, and groaned softly as he looked at you on his knees for him.

“I need to fuck you,” Ghost growled. “Now.”

You grinned, nodding eagerly as you got on your hands and knees; you allowed him to help you push down your trousers and underwear, baring your ass so eagerly. “Please, Mister Ghostface. Fuck me.”

Ghost softly groaned, giving his cock a few good firm strokes before he lined himself up; it was so fucking painful, the girth of his cock stretching your ass out and making you whimper as you gripped the ground so harshly that your knuckles audibly clicked.

Ghost paused only for a moment before grabbing your hips as hard as he could, his fingernails easily breaking the skin slightly; he didn’t wait for much longer, pistoning into you until you fell flat on your stomach, begging for him to keep going between thick and needy breaths.

He was pounding into you, rutting and caring for little else but his own pleasure; but you needed it, you needed every inch and every single droplet that he had to offer.

When he grabbed your throat, leaning over you with his phone in his hand, you moaned so loudly that he had to take his hand from your throat in order to slap it onto your mouth.

“Smile for the camera,” he whispered in your ear, grinning when you made direct eye contact with it just as he pressed the screen to take the picture.

He put the phone back into his pocket, and pressed one hand against the back of your neck, the other keeping your hip ever so propped up as he fucked you so hard that you could feel yourself moving with every thrust; whimpering every time he nearly pulled out and needing him to fill you with every inch and every droplet all the same.

Fuck. He was so rough, so hard, and when you felt him put more pressure on your neck, you couldn't help but to moan so loudly that it was almost a scream.

He was fucking filling you, and you knew that wouldn't last with how he wasn't even fucking you, he was using you; treating you like little more than a fleshlight.

“Ghostface!” You whimpered so softly. “I'm gonna- fuck! I'm close!”

“Wait for me to cum,” Ghost demanded, picking up his pace and getting both faster and rougher with you. As much as he could be, like he was chasing something that he desperately desired. Needed. Craved.

But fuck, when your ass started to clench around him, he couldn't stop it, his movements sloppy and his voice rough as he continued to demand everything of you.

The worst part was that you were eager to give it, even though you did miss the feeling of blood dripping onto you, the thick scent of copper and the taste of it on your tongue when you so lovingly lapped it from the flesh of his chest.

Even thinking about it was driving you over the edge.

Yet, when Ghost came in you, you could only whimper and push back against him.

“Breed me!” You cried softly. “Please, Ghostface, please, breed me!”

Ghost grinned behind the mask, pinning you down and continuing to fuck you as he filled you up so eagerly; he could hear the squelch as he continued to fuck it into you, reaching around and palming at your crotch to push you further and further.

Everything went white. A slight ringing in your ears as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth open and drool slipping from the corner.

Your grip on the ground grew tight once more, knuckles clicking audibly and harshly as you panted his name so desperately and with such awful need.

Ghost didn't stop until you had cum twice, only daring to pull out once he was sure that you were close to collapsing; bliss on your face, he eagerly smacked your ass, and chuckled darkly as he stood up.

“C'mon,” he growled lowly. “There's three of them inside, we can take them.”

You whimpered, taking a moment to steady yourself before you slowly got up, able to feel how stuffed you were as you moaned softly and grinned. “Kiss me.”

Ghost was all too eager to do so, grabbing the back of your neck harshly as he pulled you in for a breathy, open mouthed, kiss. “You're so good for me, you know… you take Gaz. I'll take Alex. We’ll get Farah together.”

You nodded, fixing yourself up before heading over to where you had left your costume; you allowed Ghost to go before you, knowing that he would find a way to split the group left in the house somehow.

As you were getting kitted up, you could see Ghost doing the same inside, and blew him a sweet kiss before you pulled your mask on.

Giddy, you allowed him to split the group by setting a fire in the kitchen; Gaz ran outside, right into your tracks. You were quick, pouncing on him and plunging the knife into his back. All the breath left his body as he tried to grasp, falling down and going limp almost immediately.

You smiled, giving him a firm kick to make sure he was dead before you ran into the house.

Ghost had Alex on the floor, and had slashed him very well; his thighs were all cut up, his arm was split into two down the middle, his scalp was missing.

Yet Ghost was still going, carving and slashing without a single care until he saw you and nodded.

You found Farah hiding in the bedroom, and grabbed her arm roughly as you brought her down into the kitchen; Ghost had killed the fire, and helped you to corner her against the counter.

“What the fuck do you want?! Who the fuck are you?!”

“Surprise,” you grinned as you removed the mask, leaning into Ghost's side.

“Evening, Farah,” Ghost chuckled, removing his own.

She looked between both of you, her mouth agape. “Why?”

“We figured it was the best way,” you hummed with a shrug.

“We were bored,” Ghost explained, putting his arm over your shoulders, “there wasn't really much for us when we were on leave.”

“But you were our family!” She cried, tears streaming down her face.

“No!” You snapped. “Soap, Gaz and Price were family! We were left out!”

Ghost nodded in agreement. “Besides, who needs a motive nowadays?”

“You two have watched far too many films,” she said quietly.

“Well,” you hummed. “That's the thing, innit? There's always been serial killers, but films? A great source of inspiration.”

“It's just a shame,” Ghost added. “They always blame it on people with mental illness - schizophrenia. Psychosis. But that's not the people doing it.”

“Absolutely not,” you agreed. “The only thing that makes you a killer, is wanting to kill.”

“But, unfortunately for you,” Ghost brandished his knife and grinned. “We've gotta kill you.”

“Me and Simon will be the only ones who survived a horrible, bloody massacre,” you grinned. “We managed to escape.”

“Like fuck you did!”

You both turned around, seeing Gaz brandishing a gun as he steadied himself against the door. He didn't even hesitate, pulling the trigger twice. Two bodies thumped to the ground, holes in between their eyes.

“I thought they'd never shut up,” Farah breathed out, immediately running over to Gaz and holding him tightly. “Are you alright?”

Gaz slumped down, sitting against the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah, I think so… fuck, that hurt…”

“They got Alex…” she whispered. “My brother…”

Gaz frowned, holding her hand as tightly as he could. “It's alright… we're still alive.”

“I need to call someone,” she pressed.

“I already covered it,” he groaned softly. “I saw Price…”

Slowly, Farah sat beside him, and rested her head against his shoulder as she gave his hand a small squeeze; she sniffled, but as much as she would miss her brother, she knew that she at least had Gaz there.

Gaz closed his eyes, too weak to mourn as he sniffled. He was just glad he had Farah.

[dbgdbw]

494.So Then, You Assholes Hand It Over (1)

그러니 댁들이 내놔 (1)

The main hall was considerably vast, dotted with rounded tables that seated four people each sprawled about in deliberately spaced intervals. Many of them congregating in one place was sure to invite a fight breaking out, and there were individuals with sour relations who would end up bristling simply from a chance encounter with the other as well. As a result, each table held what had been deemed to be relatively harmonious pairings, as far as seating was concerned. While there wasn’t a rule that mandated they stay tethered to their assigned seat, per se, having a designation saying this is your spot, here would at least subconsciously encourage a passive inclination to stay put. 

“Though Section Chief Song-nim being seated at Sung Hyunjae’s side is, of course, to be expected–why’ve I been thrown in with this lot too, huh.”

Moon Hyuna groused lightly. The table was another four-seater, but there were only three names written: ‘Sung Hyunjae’, ‘Song Taewon’, and ‘Moon Hyuna’. Pulling out a chair for Sung Hyunjae, Moon Hyuna dropped into a polite bow from her waist.

“Please–do take a seat, Princess-nim.”

“How so very chivalric of you. Will the Breaker Guild Leader be stepping into the role of my Prince, today.”

“Nowadays, the trend is for princess-nims to be self-sufficient, if you didn’t know. Now–for our hardworking second-in-line Princess-nim too.”

As Moon Hyuna spoke, taking the initiative pulling out the chair for him as well, Song Taewon hung back, struggling to articulate a response. Even having spent several years fraternizing with the two already, he still found it difficult to play along with their strange jokes. In particular–as he was unable to simply ignore her outright the way he could with Sung Hyunjae, he found dealing with her to be especially precarious. 

“...I appreciate the offer, however, remaining standing will enable myself to carry out a more thorough surveillance of the hall.”

“This is all the Firstborn’s fault, you know. Because the Firstborn’s so willful, the Second’s even more uptight.”

“What an outrageous accusation. When I love and cherish the Secondborn Princess-nim so dearly.”

“Your glib tongue hasn’t gone anywhere, I see. Section Chief Song-nim, fancy another drink?”

“I’m afraid I will have to decline.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, why don’t you have another glass. Honestly, Section Chief Song-nim, you should be getting appropriately plastered on occasion. So long as you remain sober as usual, you’ll be unable to call forth those things you keep inside, right.”

Saying that, while excessive drinking might be harmful, people needed to let loose at least once or so, Moon Hyuna poured out a full glass of wine. That leaving things to just fester, would only cause regular functioning to deteriorate into a toxic state.

“...for today, I will have to decline.”

“One of these days, I’m going to arrange a night with something especially potent brewed up in store.”

“That being said, just where might our youngest Princess-nim be.”

Sung Hyunjae asked idly, flicking his name card with the tip of a finger. Picking up her glass, Moon Hyuna took a brief sip to moisten her lips before answering.

“Now, the Seseung Guild Leader-nim should hardly be concerning himself with such matters. No matter how adorable you might find our youngest Princess-nim. Kindly butt out of it.”

“Isn’t it only natural, that the Firstborn should love the Youngest so.”

“...don’t say that kind of shit, you’ll put me off my wine. ‘Love’, what a farce. Though, if Director Han-nim was my dongsaeng, he might seem pretty cute, I admit. No, wait–if he really were my dongsaeng, then most likely he’d probably earn himself a slap on the back at least once or twice a day.”

Moon Hyuna grimaced, backtracking quickly. Swiveling her head, she scanned her eyes around the hall. 

“It looks like our Yerimie is quite popular.”

Just as Moon Hyuna had said, there were numerous Hunters indicating interest in Bak Yerim. The clip of a young, recently-Awakened Hunter easily rebuffing a vastly more experienced S-rank Hunter had already made the rounds worldwide, by that point. In addition, Bak Yerim was also the first S-rank Hunter to be affiliated with a private guild, rather than a corporate entity holding some special purpose. Due to that arrangement, certain individuals were jockeying to win her over with the promise of more favorable conditions.

“Ah, I don’t really know English very well~.”

Of course, Bak Yerim brushed off every single one of their attempts with nary a flinch.

“We would provide you with an Interpretation Item, of course.”

“But that wouldn’t work with written text, right, sir. Feel free to give me a call once you’ve changed your national language over to Korean, then, please. I only know how to write in Korean.”

Saying that she had no plans to learn English going forward either, she shook her head in dissent. As she took off far up into the air to make an exit from the conversation, numerous sets of eyes followed Bak Yerim. Counted among them were ones who were simply watching her with a purely doting gaze, too. Though most high-ranked Hunters–and S-rank Hunters in particular–tended to be on the younger side, typically their twenties, the ones in their teens were rare, after all. And among the S-rank Hunters, Bak Yerim was the youngest as well.

“The Blacksmith won’t be attending, then?”

“Since he might be a high-ranking Hunter, but he’s not a combat type. If only because the situation might turn risky, they wouldn’t send him here.”

“But the Rearing Facility Director’s Stats are low, too.”

There were some who were looking for Yoo Myungwoo, too. Though countless Hunters had sent their regards after he’d managed to produce an S-rank weapon, he tended to avoid accepting commissions that originated from overseas. And as he only created equipment when the urge struck him when it came to domestic Hunters as well, there were throngs of individuals looking to forge some sort of connection with him, in any way possible. 

It wasn’t that there wasn’t dissatisfaction around Yoo Myungwoo’s attitude, but it was true that any outcome would’ve still fallen short of expectations regardless. As a result, even when confronted by a cold reception, it would be hand-waved away as eccentric conduct that was par for the course for a master craftsman.

However, as the Rearing Facility Director was the host of the gathering taking place that day, there were many who were waiting on Han Yoojin’s entrance as well. This was primarily because rumor had already spread among the Hunters that there was a method to raise a high-rank mount, without any specialized Skill involved. Thanks to that, the already exorbitant price baby monsters had fetched had taken another steep increase. In fact, there had even been Hunter teams formed with the sole purpose of capturing baby monsters as of late.

“Shouldn’t he’ve shown his face by now.”

“He might not end up dropping in at all, honestly. His Stats are F-rank, right.”

Perhaps he would simply appear via recording or livestream to communicate with them, a few Hunters murmured amongst themselves. Though he might be surrounded by numerous S-rank Hunters, it would still be a difficult feat for an F-rank to appear before a crowd of unfamiliar high-ranked Awakened. For lower-ranked Awakened and un-Awakened, the fear they felt towards a high-ranked Hunter could be largely dispelled through prolonged and repeated exposure to the individual. This meant, however, that an unfamiliar high-ranked Hunter would inevitably bypass whatever immunity had been built up till that point. Since, even if you feel unafraid of your own family’s large-breed dog–who could only ever be adorable in your eyes–it didn’t mean that you’d feel the same when confronted with an unfamiliar large dog growling in your direction. Consequently, it wouldn’t have been undue to expect to see him show a cowed appearance, or to forgo making an appearance altogether.

As the mutterings prevailed, discontent gradually started to pervade their words. If it hadn’t been for the detour necessary at the wharf, there probably would’ve been open callouts of how they’d been made to wait long enough already being issued forth. 

As the atmosphere began to buzz with a restless quality, 끼이이익. A door slowly creaked open. It was the door at the top of the twin staircases that split to ascend down from either side in a steep curve, to the center of the hall. As the ornate door–perfectly positioned to draw the viewers’ eyes–swung wide open, a figure walked out. 

스르륵– The fluttering tip of a long veil trailed down, grazing against the floor. A black veil, about three to four meters long and decorated with white roses, and a white mask that covered the bottom half of their face. A black suit, accompanied by a white jabot. A crimson flower was nestled in the breast pocket, and branches of ferns dangled from their white glove-clad hands.

For the majority, ‘what a peculiar getup’ was the extent of their interest in the matter. Yet, here and there, there were responses from a few that differed starkly.

“It’s not a bad choice to’ve elected to conceal his expression, but.”

“What’s with the veil.”

The Hunters who were clueless regarding the ensemble’s significance murmured amongst themselves. The general consensus seemed to be that, while it was an appearance that belied expectations, it wasn’t one that was viewed as being too outlandish a choice. Particularly since Hunters who followed a set ‘concept’(1) weren’t too far in between, and there were cases where one’s signature weapon made one stand out, despite wishing for a mundane life, after all. 

“Hyung-nim was real embarrassed about that, y’know?”

Moon Hyuna whispered in a faint voice. At her query on whether it didn’t suit him better than you’d expect, Song Taewon nodded accommodatingly, replying yes, it seems so; yet, his expression hard, Sung Hyunjae gave no response. 

Chatterbox.

Why Han Yoojin might have shown up while wearing Chatterbox’s appearance–that much was easy enough to ascertain. It would’ve been to root out those individuals who were acquainted with that appearance. If someone bearing the same appearance as Chatterbox were to suddenly appear, then even unconsciously, one would be likely to betray a reaction different from the others around them.

But even as he knew that, it didn’t lessen the summoned feeling of loathing. 

“...hardly, in my eyes.”

“How unexpected, you rating hyung-nim so low. Or is it that the Seseung Guild Leader’s preference actually lies with hot pink yarn?”

Wouldn’t it be funny, if that really got spread around and some people actually started showing up dressed up in hot pink, snickered Moon Hyuna, grinning; but unlike his usual self, Sung Hyunjae didn’t provide any retort. And then, the subject of his revulsion.

“How do you do, everyone.”

The mask fell away, and Han Yoojin’s face was revealed. From the tips of the fingertips the mask dangled from, to the bow his head dipped into as the mask was taken away. Every little movement was imbued with an elegant quality that departed from his normal conduct. A smile drew across the even paler visage revealed behind the white mask. 

“First, I’d like to convey my thanks that you’d come all the way out here.”

Moving towards the staircase with leisurely steps, Han Yoojin hooked a finger under the jabot. 툭, the large flower-like tie was discarded by his feet, and the buttons along the collar of his shirt was loosened one by one. 탁, 탁. Undone with unerring precision to the time of his steps, he came to a stop at the top of the landing; a gloved hand stroked up the column of his throat. 

After a gentle press under the lobes of his ears, his fingers swept back down. Simultaneously–사르륵, a crimson pattern thrummed into view. The stark lines that appeared, extending down below his nape, commanded the absolute attention of everyone in the room. 

The high-ranked Hunters–particularly the S-rank Hunters–watched Han Yoojin unblinkingly, transfixed as though they’d even forgotten to breathe. All of them felt the same unnerving sensation of dread. It was akin to the experience of having come face-to-face with a powerful monster–but at the same time, not. There was the anticipation that wracked the body, and the goosebumps that followed; but unlike a monster, it didn’t feel like they could lift a finger against the one before them. 

It was the sensation of being a mouse that had known nothing but the turning of the wheel in its cage, one day becoming conscious of the giant eye peering down in observation. 

And the disgust Sung Hyunjae felt.

“.......”

Reached its pinnacle. Unlike the other Hunters, what grated at him wasn’t merely the energy emitted by that particular mark. No; it carried its own loathsome feeling, but among those assembled there, Sung Hyunjae alone was aware of its significance–what that crimson mark meant.

This knowledge was something that didn’t exist in his–Sung Hyunjae’s–memories. But for some reason, he was able to comprehend it. The mark that was carved onto Han Yoojin.

The Sorcerer’s Sacrifice(2).

The moment he realized, his insides began to burn. He drew a hand over his mouth to cover the sneering expression that rose, spurred by both from the disgust evoked by a memory that didn’t exist, as well as the situation at hand. The heat in his chest felt far away, as though it was happening to a stranger.

“...the hell’s with that.”

Moon Hyuna mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from Han Yoojin. Her brows had drawn taut in a dark scowl as well. Song Taewon, too, was focused on Han Yoojin–to such an extent, that he’d yet to take note of Sung Hyunjae’s condition. Song Taewon’s hand, resting on the top of the table, had clenched into a tight fist at some point. His lips were pressed grimly together, the faint grinding of teeth audible. 

The two had already been informed of everything in advance. And yet, it remained a struggle to restrain themselves, still.

Under that heavy atmosphere, Sung Hyunjae let out a shallow breath. Unbidden, Hwanglim’s words rose to the fore of his mind. Sung Hyunjae’s lips twisted in a crooked smile. 

‘I’d also been quite excessively…….’

Indolent. Though it may have been absent from his memories, the existence called Sung Hyunjae could, in a way, be said to have been continually robbed. Of everything.

He had no memories. His Skills and Titles, because of recursion, would be taken away, leaving behind only a scant few. The chain that wove around his person, too, was something that had been bequeathed from that pilferer. 

And even now. His life and death in the present had already been lost to him once, before being returned. 

The crooked slant of his lips transitioned into an easy smile. With what might be construed as a gentle look in his eyes, Sung Hyunjae gazed up at Han Yoojin.

* * *

‘Seems real effective.’

Despite being an incredibly humiliating and mortifying ordeal, that was to say. Chatterbox, you bastard, that it was formal wear was fine. A frilly necktie, well, it might be overbearing, but since it was formal wear after all. The mask, well… But even if I was able to get past that hurdle, what was with the fucking veil, huh, the veil. And on top of that, it was a rose-patterned veil. I’d never imagined that I’d ever come into the possession of a rose veil, much less be settling it over my own head, not even in my wildest dreams. Goddamn Chatterbox asshole, why were his preferences like this?

It hadn’t been my intention to go undercover as Chatterbox myself, at the beginning. I’d planned on using a doll, or a substitute instead. Since, when it came to myself, there was my height to consider, and even if there was a corset involved, my body was hardly skeletal enough to be comparable anyway. But with the Mark that Chatterbox had left taken into account, it had worked out so that the plan would prove most effective with me being the one going undercover. 

‘That should’ve rooted most of them out.’

Maintaining a smile on my face, I looked down upon the crowd, beyond the balcony rails. All around the hall, cameras had been installed to face in every orientation. Once that footage had been combed through, it would be a simple matter to pinpoint the ones that had been approached by Chatterbox. 

Firstly, the ones who had shown a reaction just upon sighting Chatterbox’s apparel would be the ones who had met with him in person. Then, the ones who responded to the Mark would be the ones who had received an invitation, and then contracted with him. Even from my current position overlooking the room, it was easy to spy a few attendees who were reacting differently from those around them.

‘...though I might’ve gone a bit overboard, emphasizing the Mark with Chatterbox’s power like that.’

I’d repressed as much of my magical energy as possible around the area of the Mark and, with Noah-ssi’s help, amplified the traces of Chatterbox’s presence that had been left behind. Noah-ssi had regarded me with a dubious expression as he’d retreated from me, and the other Hunters were also showing reactions that went beyond my expectations.

Because it seemed like the atmosphere was beginning to flow in a direction that might end up with a few people even drawing weapons out against me, I swiftly called forth my own magical power. The moment Chatterbox’s Mark was blotted out, the tension in the air immediately released. Surveying the Hunters below, who appeared faintly apprehensive yet, I breathed ou…– ugh, my waist felt way too tight. Letting out a breath, I resumed my footsteps, advancing alongside the railing. 

“It appears I’ve managed to startle everyone somewhat. Of course–this much is probably nothing for high-ranked Awakened, such as yourselves.”

Like Chatterbox would be the only one. Outside, it was teeming with all sorts of Transcendents. It was just that Chatterbox happened to be the one that pissed me off the most, out of the handful I had met. There was a subtly off-putting quality about him that rankled at my subconscious. 

Before I stepped onto the first stair, I discarded the veil. That very moment, with a flourish of viridian willow leaves, Yoohyunie lept into the air; and with light steps, landed beyond the railings, at my back. Catching the discarded veil as it fluttered down and utilizing the window of opportunity afforded under its cover, he used the brief moment the fabric hid us from sight to discreetly slip a hand inside my clothes from behind, slitting my corset open. As I felt the corset loosen, instantly, its presence disappeared without a trace. Irin had stolen inside as well, to swallow it whole. 

I could finally feel comfortable. Well, then. Who among those assembled here, might be our invitation holders. 

- - - - -

(1)

(2)

mha → shj, stw | informal casual

shj → mha | informal casual

stw → mha | polite formal (respectful)

yj → crowd | polite formal

history of feminism radicalization in Korea

the real reason south koreans aren't having babies

why so many South Korean women are refusing to date, marry or have kids

young South Korean man arrested after assaulting a female clerk. he regarded her as a feminist because of her short haircut (Nov 2023)

Shillim park attack (Aug 2023)

Gangnam murder (2016)

justice for the Miryang victims? (June 2008)

South Korea currently abuzz over the 'Miryang Sexual Assault Case' from 20 years ago after a 'cyber wrecker' YouTuber begins exposing the identities of the 44 assailants (June 2024)

largest mukbang streamer (10M) Tzuyang abused, exploited, blackmailed, forced to create YT videos (July 2024)

the connotation 'corset' carries as symbolism seems to be pretty mainstream, enough so that it's even utilized in ITZY's song RINGO (lyric vid linked in title for the usual easter egg), despite being a jp release (or maybe because it's a non-domestic market, where the reference wouldn't be picked up as easily..):

‘Parasite’ Star Lee Sun-kyun Removed From Upcoming Movie ‘No Way Out’ Amid Police Probe Over Suspected Drug Use

Is it better to feign not being able to speak Korean? If so, when? If not, when?

What is dating like today for females in their late 20's to 30's?

Project Moon's answers to the brought up issues by the KR community and the notice on firing the concerned illustrator

Press conference article from the Gyeonggi Youth Union on the PM situation

ZEROBASEONE’s Kim Gyu Vin Apologizes For His Choice Of Words In Recent Posts

Is there a term/phrase that's similar to "crazy cat lady" in Korean?

South Korea population decline.

Girls starting school early could boost fertility rate: state-backed agency report

+

‘Absurd how Korea treats its people’: English signage fad alienates older Koreans

Korean language states the obvious?

I’m confused with Korean titles so I have a question (호칭)

[sugoi-and-spice]

Like my work? Please consider commissioning me or contributing to my Ko-Fi!

Chapter Twenty-Three - I’m Not Okay (I Promise)

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

Even for a Friday afternoon the arcade was way more crowded than she had expected. The group had originally planned on grabbing a bite at the attached restaurant before gaming, but their new addition had created a bit of a logistical problem.

“I’m so sorry,” the Hostess bowed repeatedly and apologetically, “All of our larger party tables are booked for at least another hour. The most we could fit is a chair on the end of a four person booth.”

“Awww, really? I mean how small are the booths? We’re all friends, we can squeeze!” Nejire insisted, pulling Amajiki into a tight hug at the waist to prove her point, much to the quickly reddening boy’s chagrin.

“That’s against our fire code,” she bowed again, “I’m really so sorry.”

Yuyu, ever the pragmatic one, turned to suggest, “I guess we’re gonna have to split up?”

Nejire pouted, “That’s not really festive.”

Mirio, more than happy to put on a show to either sacrifice one of his friends to table with Shigaraki, or make show of how much he didn’t belong there at the moment, put a hand on Nejire’s shoulder, “Hey, we gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

Shigaraki was feeling itchier and pricklier by the second. He didn’t particularly enjoy being the center of gawking attention even under the best of circumstances. And this moment — standing awkwardly to the side as a group of kids already way cooler than he could ever hope to be were actively discussing the logistics as to why he was a complete inconvenience to all of them — was far from the best of circumstances.

He leaned into his one spider’s thread of a tie to it all, whispering nervously, “I’ll just go, this is stupid…”

Mirio, somehow hearing him, as if he’d been waiting for those words frowned “sympathetically” at him, “Awww? Are you sure?”

“Uh, y-yeah…” Shigaraki said, even he was a bit taken aback by how quick Mr. ‘Let’s Make Everyone Smile At All Times” was willing to kick him to the curb, “I-I’m making this weird anyway, right?”

Nobody really wanted to answer. That’s what the group of friends did think, after all.

But then she put a hand, a perfectly manicured lifeline, on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” she pointed out, “Look, there’s a two seater right by that booth. Shigaraki and I will take that and then we won’t have to squeeze anywhere.”

The group all looked about each other, shrugging and mumbling positively. That really did seem like the best option. The group that needed to be altogether — the friends since elementary school — were indeed, altogether, and Shigaraki was neither ostracized nor isolated with people he didn’t know. It was a perfectly fine solution for all.

All except Mirio.

“H-Hey, those big party tables aren’t reserved for the night or anything right?” Mirio asked the hostess, and upon a confirming nod, he offered back to the group, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not starving or anything — why don’t we just put our name down and play some games in the meantime? Then nobody has to squeeze or split, you know?” 

Another chorus of shrugs and “Yeah, that’s work”’s — and Mirio had his, admittedly, small victory over the situation. 

Though it’s not like it lasted long.

Continue on AO3

[d-maxhealthcare1]

#hospital_furniture

#medical_equipments

#derma_chair

[mrsrookhunt]

Second one I've done today so MASSIVE thank you to @nvllxiety

For the requests bc I'm such a hoe for ango and I won't write for someone unless the people want them, against my own wishes ahahaha feel free to request lovecraft haaaah Have a lovely night everyone

Drop Me Off Here

Ango Sakaguchi X Reader

Ignoring the suppressed snickers of the few remaining of Ango's 'dear' coworkers at the sight of you in baggy clothes at 2 am, you headed straight down the hall to look your lover in the eye and bring him home to detox from coffee and exhaustion.

However, that's easier said than done. Ango takes one look at you, sighs, and tells you that if you'd like to spend time with him, the couch on the other side of his office is open for you to sleep on.

You are definitely too tall to sprawl out and over that two seater. And besides, that's not what you're here for anyway

"Ango," You plead with him, begging him to take his eyes off his computer.

"Let's go home--"

"Not now," He mumbles, eyes lidded with sleep and head bobbing. "Need a trace on a line and I'm waiting for someone to pick up on the... the.... haah.... What was I talking about?"

"Ango, we're going home."

"No!" He snaps, looking up at you with some renewed passion spewing from the last fumes of energy he's running on.

You sigh and push his wonky-wheeled office chair out of the way.

"Wait.. what are ya doing.... y/n.." The moment his face turns away from the screen, he's already slipping into dreamland.

He isn't even awake long enough in between his forced departure from the desk and the millisecond it takes to swiftly close his tabs and shut down his computer, which stops its incessant groan of data overload the moment you hit the off button on the moniter.

It's quite the same for Ango, who looks blissed out in his chair.

However, you know that if you let him sleep a minute longer you won't be able to wake him up again.

You tap him on the shoulder until he cracks open eyes so bloodshot you're concerned he may need medical treatment, to look at you.

You don't speak, but put one arm under him and hoist his practically limp body out of his office chair. He stumbles a bit, finding purchase against your neck with mumbles and groans.

You drag him out of the office, leaning on your arm, past his jeering coworkers, and past the building doors, which he vaguely gestures back towards when you pass them.

Outside, a light rain sprinkles onto his face. You laugh, knowing he probably hasn't checked the radar to notice the downpour coming in tonight.

You gently put him into the backseat of your car, sprawled across the back row, and throw an old jacket of yours on him. It's a decent drive home, but you'll make it before three am.

He makes incoherent noises the entire time, a few complaints on needing to get more work done and desperate groans about his coworkers. Even in his sleep, Ango is ever-vigilant.

When you get home, you do the same thing, dragging him out of the car and into the contrastingly warm house he bought for the two of you, though these days he rarely graces the home with his presence.

You already have the fireplace crackling, the heat cranked up, and soothing music on. You help him take his shoes and coat off, and dump him right into bed.

Ango moans restlessly. You don't know if he just wants you to let him sleep, or take him back to the office.

Turning off the last lights in the house, you curl up behind him and wrap your arms around him, letting him dive deeper into the blankets and get tangled up in your arms. You move one hand to soothe him, brushing soft, short tufts of his hair out of his face.

"Mm...ahh... y/n..., iloveya...." it's all jumbled, but you know what he said.

"I love you too, my Mango."

He puffs out a small chuckle, hand coming up to squeeze the one repetively brushing hair from his face.

Kissing him on the forehead, you send him off to sleep with gentle touches and the sound of pattering rain.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Writing this one felt like free therapy. Thanks again for the ask ♡

-Kaori

May 20th, 2023

[sheerfreesia007]

Stupid Cupid #13

Title: Stupid Cupid #13

Fandom: Top Gun Maverick

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 1,668

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Prompt: Texting

Author Notes: 

Gif Credit: @notyoursbutlewis

The soft ding of his cellphone pulled Mickey out of his study session as he looked up from his handbook over to the phone laying face down on his desk. He put a bookmark in the handbook before getting up from his spot on his bed. Walking over to the desk he grabbed the phone and turned it over to see who had texted him. He smiled when he saw that it was from her.

Hey Handsome! Don’t forget to drink and take breaks while studying! Can’t wait to see you this weekend. <3

Mickey grinned as he read the words quickly before he caught himself reaching for the large steel water bottle that he had filled up earlier. He rolled his eyes at himself as he realized that all she had to do was send him a simple text and he was already doing whatever it was she wanted him to do. But then Mickey’s mind turned to the free weekend he had coming up and how he had plans to spend all of it with her.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Mickey looked up from his phone to see Payback holding onto the door as he peeked into the room. Payback’s eyes were on Mickey’s phone that he was still holding in his hand before he huffed out a breath at his back seater.

“She’s texting you during study time?” He asked sounding disappointed.

“Only to remind me to drink water and take breaks.” Mickey defended and Payback looked taken aback for a moment. “She knows how serious this is for me. She’s not bothering me.” 

“Alright but make sure you get back to studying man. Can’t afford to mess this up.” Payback reminded him and Mickey nodded his head easily as he texted out a simple response to her before setting the phone back down on the desk.

*-*-*-*

The next time he got a text it was after his exam and he had just joined the squad at the hangar while they waited for the last of the squad to finish their exam. The little ding that alerted him to a text from her made him grin softly as he fished his phone out of his pocket. A soft scoff from his right made Mickey shake his head as he looked down at the phone screen.

How do you feel? I bet you aced that exam! I’m so proud of you. Only three more days until I get to see you! <3

“Look at this fool and that smile.” Payback teased him and Mickey grinned as he looked up at his friend.

“Whatever man, she’s just checking up on me.” Mickey said in defense of you as he typed out a response to you about the exam.

“Keep your head in the game though man. Don’t let her become a distraction.” Payback warned him softly and Mickey frowned at his words wondering if you were starting to become a distraction for him. “That’s all I’m saying man, don't let her pull you away from what you want out of the Navy.”

Mickey looked down at the phone at your text message and wondered if Payback was right. But then another text from you came in and he knew without a doubt that Payback had it all wrong.

I am so proud of you and know you’re going to get everything that you dream of.

*-*-*-*

The steady beeping of the vitals monitor set Payback’s nerves on edge. He knew he should’ve listened to Fanboy when they were in training today but for some reason he hadn’t and it had cost Fanboy a trip to the medical wing. The doctor had told him that he’d be fine but they needed to keep him for observation since he had hit his head pretty hard on the console when Payback had tried to evade Fritz’ plane.

Gritting his teeth Payback sat in the chair next to the hospital bed watching over Fanboy as he rested peacefully. Just then a soft ding was heard and Payback sighed softly as he reached over to the table and picked up Fanboy’s cell phone. He had already let Fanboy’s family know that he was in a minor accident but that he’d be alright so he wondered who it was that was texting him.

Hey Handsome! How was training? Did you make sure that Payback was alright during training? I know you said he was nervous for this training session did it all go alright?

Staring down at the phone Payback had completely forgotten about you and notifying you about the accident. Looking up at Fanboy he was still sleeping peacefully in the bed and Payback wasn’t sure if he should wake him to respond to your text. He quickly typed out a response letting you know who he was and that Fanboy would be okay but he was in the medical wing for observation. He was surprised by your response.

I’m sorry there was an accident! Are you alright too? I hope you’re okay, I’m sure you both did your best during training and things just happen. Thank goodness you’re both alright though. Can you ask Mickey to call me when he gets out of the medical wing? I’m gonna be a nervous wreck until I can hear his voice again.

Payback sat there rereading your text message as he sat there realizing that maybe he had been wrong about you and your relationship with Fanboy. He typed out a response that it’d be the first thing he did when Fanboy woke up, you thanked him and the conversation ended there making Payback realize that you were someone so much more than a fling for Fanboy. He sighed as he sat back in the chair after setting the phone down, he had a new understanding of you now that he’d talked with you.

*-*-*-*

Mickey is anxious to be released from duty on base, it was the weekend and he was just shy of being able to spend two whole days with you uninterrupted. Finally when Maverick gave the order that they were free he shot up from his chair wincing as it scraped loudly against the floor. Payback chuckled softly next to him and Mickey snapped his head towards him to look at him while Payback held his hands up in faux surrender. Just then a ping came from his phone and Mickey grinned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw your text message.

Hey Handsome. I’m here at the Hard Deck. Waitin’ on you aviator. <3

The grin that formed on his face was almost blinding as he rushed out of the hangar and back to his dorm room where he quickly grabbed his duffel bag. The squad were all heading to the Hard Deck for drinks and he was going to catch a ride with them, but they were moving so slow. 

Mickey tried to be patient as he waited for the squad to finally get back to the dorms and waited another few minutes for them to freshen up and get everything they needed for a night out. Payback chuckled as he walked out of his dorm to find Mickey practically dancing with excited energy in the hallway.

“Calm down man. She ain’t gonna leave ya. I’m pretty sure she’s more excited than you are.” Payback said reassuringly to try and calm Mickey down but it didn’t work.

“Like she could be more excited than me right now.” Mickey scoffed and Payback burst out in laughter as Bob came walking up to the two of them.

“You alright there Fanboy?” he asked and Mickey just nodded his head quickly as his eyes darted behind him trying to see who was coming out next.

“He’s going off base to spend the weekend with his girl.” Payback told Bob who grinned shyly at Mickey and nodded his head.

“Understandable.” Bob said easily and Mickey huffed softly before nearly bouncing in place when he saw Phoenix step out swinging her keys around her index finger. She smiled at him before rolling her eyes at his antics.

“Alright c’mon you goons. Let’s get this one to the bar so that he can see his girl.” She teased Fanboy as she wrapped an arm around his neck and began leading the three of them out of the dorms to her car. While he waits anxiously in the back seat of the car Mickey tries to keep himself calm as the others get into the car and Phoenix begins to drive. He looks down at his phone and quickly sends you a text saying that they were on their way to the bar.

It didn’t take very long for Phoenix to turn down the road and Mickey began to get more excited as he spotted your car parked in the parking lot. He grinned widely as he saw you leaning against the side of your car waiting for him. You were dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a light colored flowy blouse with big sleeves. You looked stunning as a breeze came off the ocean and blew through the parking lot making your sleeves flutter in the breeze.

He doesn’t wait until Phoenix completely parks the car before he’s hopping out and rushing towards you with his duffle bag in his hand. Payback can see from the front seat of Phoenix’s car the beaming smile on your face as Fanboy swoops you up into his arms and holds you tight. Your laughter dances through the air as the three aviators sit and watch Fanboy greet you with the happiest grin on his face.

“Oh boy.” Bob says softly from the back seat as they all watch Fanboy kiss you as if his life depended on it as he lifted you up into the air making you laugh brightly at his antics.

“Boy’s in love, man.” Payback says softly and laughs while shaking his head.

[undercoverbastard]

Double Cherries (and 'Extra' Hoodies)

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+ OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45190867

“Welcome in! You know where to go,” Stiles grinned and threw a nod to the back room area with several tables shoved together. The Hale family simply smiled in response, some waved as they walked by, and filed into the larger of the two side spaces off the main floor.

He was sure his mom had specifically set up that area for the Hale family. He’d only ever seen them sit there and on several - very few - occasions, large groups assembled for some birthday, reunion, or other such events that could only be accommodated by using the larger space. If they were super busy for whatever reason, sometimes his mom would break up the tables to accommodate additional, smaller groups. But the main setup, with the three tables all shoved together in the center of the room, stuffed with chairs running down each side of the long, conjoined table, and several smaller 2-4 seaters off in each corner? Yea, that was for the Hales. No one could convince Stiles otherwise.

They came in at least twice a month, the whole group, and had dinner. It was almost a daily thing to see at least one of them - picking up an on-the-go meal, grabbing extra pastries from the display case, or stopping for a fix of his mom’s homemade apple cider. But all of them together? That happened like clockwork every other week.

“Ready to order or do you guys need a few extra minutes to pretend to look over the menu and still order the same thing anyways?” Stiles grinned as he sauntered up to the table. He pulled out one of the only open seats left at the very end and flipped it around, sitting down and bracing his elbow on the back of the chair as he leaned his chin against his open palm. Half the table rolled their eyes, the other gave small huffs of laughter. They were all used to Stiles’s particular brand of humor.

Starting with the person to his left - Elaine - Stiles jotted down each person's order. Despite his joke, the Hales did like to spice up their orders even with their frequent attendance. Most of them had a few dishes they regularly liked to cycle through, some were always trying new things (Laura was the reason for the Weekly Specials, Stiles was sure of it, after she complained one too many times about how boring all the restaurants in town were for his mother's liking), and some were oddly picky (Jenna, the youngest Hale of the bunch, sometimes liked pickles but never when she liked tomatoes - and she always wanted ketchup with her meal but if she got curly fries then she’d also ask for ranch or blue cheese, Stiles couldn’t tell what determined the preference but it was always a toss up).

Out of all the Hales, though, one of them was without a doubt predictable without fail.

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows, glaring at the younger boy as he walked away, but the small uptick at the corner of his mouth wasn’t lost on his family. Laura laughed behind her hand, Cora smirked, Mark gave a long-suffering sigh, the younger kids already lost interest, and all the adults gave a roll of their eyes (Peter mumbled something about “stupid teenagers” but was quickly shut up when his wife Lila elbowed him sharply, earning a giggle from their son Austin).

“Three.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, turning to see Claudia now standing just behind her chair and to the side, arms crossed and an amused look on her face as her eyes focused on Derek. She must have slipped in during everyone placing their orders, though how much of the interaction she saw Talia was unsure.

Humming to herself, Talia watched as Stiles finally made it to the kitchen, only part of his upper body visible through the open doorway as he leaned against the window to pin up his order and call out something to the cooks, a wide grin painted on his lips. He laughed with his whole body, leaning heavily against the window as he talked with whoever was in the kitchen, tapping at the ticket he just put up with a playful grin.

“Really? I saw six,” Talia smoothly responded, leaning further back into her chair. She cast a mischievous glance up toward Claudia, who gave her a smirk in response.

“Six?” Nick asked, looking between his wife and Claudia. “Three? What? Six and three what?”

“They’re betting on how long it’ll take those two to get a clue,” Lila offered, rolling her eyes at the other man. Her husband snorted beside her, earning him yet another jab to the ribs.

“Still! Three and six what? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?!” Nick cried. No one answered him, causing him to pout and wildly look between the two women (one of which was his wife) in his life who always seemed to be up to something or another.

It was silent for a beat, before Peter - who was still rubbing at his ribs, obviously overplaying the jab from his wife - piped up, “I vote four.”

“Four WHAT?!”

+.+.+

It didn’t go unnoticed that when Stiles brought their food out, Derek’s burger had more tomatoes than anyone else’s just how he liked, even though extra tomatoes were never mentioned.

It also didn’t escape their notice that Stiles stole the first fry from Derek's plate and only got a roll of the eyes, while Cora got a smack to the hand and a glare that could start WWIII when she only attempted to take a fry.

+.+.+

“That’s not what I ordered,” Dereked huffed, though Stiles would say it sounded more like a whine. The darker-haired boy pouted and shoved the glass back across the counter, leaning back on his barstool as if the drink personally offended him.

“It’s not,” Stiles easily agreed, “it’s better.” He pushed the glass back toward Derek with a single finger. Derek’s glare became poutier and Stiles's grin became more of a smirk.

Claudia watched from the other end of the counter, counting out the till. She’d have to recount - she lost track two minutes ago when Stiles first began teasing Derek while they waited for his milkshake to be finished.

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek. ”

“Please,” Derek said softly, a genuine frown now making its way onto his face. His shoulders slumped slightly, eyes darting to the side as he seemed to slowly lose his ability to keep up with Stiles’s usual banter. Claudia cocked her head, immediately noticing the change. She had the urge to ask what was wrong, a protectiveness she often forgot she had for the Hale children rearing its head inside her. But her own son seemed to beat her to it.

“Woah, hey, no of course. I’m sorry,” Stiles quickly corrected, pulling the glass back and moving to grab a second glass from the counter just behind him. He slid the second glass, filled to the brim with a thick, viscous pink liquid, in front of Derek slowly, his posture opening up slowly as he leaned against the opposite side of the counter and looked at Derek with a single raised eyebrow.

Neither said anything else for a minute, and Claudia was sure the interaction was over, but Stiles still had his head tilted ever so slightly, his body open and pointed towards Derek, an inquisitive expression aimed at the other. It was odd - seeing her son be so quiet. But he didn’t break, he remained steadfastly quiet, the only hint of conversation from him being the questioning look he directed at his friend.

Derek finally looked up and made eye contact after taking several slow, long sips of his shake (strawberry - as usual).

“I’m benched from the next game,” he said softly, almost so quietly Claudia didn’t hear. Stiles simply tilted his head more, chin dipping down as if to encourage Derek to keep going, but Stiles himself never spoke a word. “I’m two points away from failing math. Coach thought it would… encourage me to do better. But I just don’t get it, and basketball helps when I can’t focus and…”

Derek fell silent again, frowning as he fiddled with his straw, unable to meet Stiles’s eye.

Claudia watched, jaw dropped, as Stiles turned and walked away without a word. She felt her blood boil, ready to whack her own flesh and blood ten ways to Sunday with the nearest object and bundle Derek up in her arms and apologize for her stupid offspring, but just as quickly as the red rage filled her vision, Stiles was back.

Stiles plopped the previous milkshake on the counter across from Derek, but closer to himself, and placed a plate between them. It had two forks, what looked like a brownie that was cut to be the size of three regular brownies put together, and a large mound of whipped cream.

Taking one of the forks, Stiles cut a piece of brownie off and moved it toward his mouth before pausing. He locked eyes with Derek.

“I don’t work on Mondays, we should hang out. Go over homework together. I’m pretty good at math, might need some help with history though,” he said casually, popping the bite into his mouth, “I can barely remember one old white dude from the next.” Claudia raised an eyebrow. Her son had a 97% in history - she knew because his teacher called to discuss a recent essay regarding male circumcision and Claudia promptly ended the call once the teacher confirmed his grade in the class (he could write about the mating habits of mosquitos in history class for all she cared with those grades).

Derek gave a roll of his eyes and a half-smile. “I like history,” is all he said, before taking a bite of the brownie himself. Derek also knew Stiles's claim for needing help was far-fetched; he did, however, know Stiles didn't like history.

“I know.”

Claudia watched, a bit awed and with a dopey smile only a mother could pull off, as the two boys shared the brownie and sipped their milkshakes. Stiles began rambling about Scott’s newest girlfriend and also complaining about a weird sound the Jeep is making. Derek nodded along, mostly silent, communicating in some weird fashion with his eyebrows and various smirks.

Claudia gave up on the till and took the next two tables that came in, letting her son enjoy his moment in the bubble he’d created with Derek. She’d get onto him about socializing while on the clock and make him do the trash run later. For now, Derek seemed like the more important task.

+.+.+

Claudia paused between orders to watch as Derek walked out after throwing several bills on the counter (of which, she noted, could pay for his tab nearly three times over - even if Stiles charged him for the monstrosity of a brownie he brought out and therefore shouldn’t be charging Derek for anyways). And she was immediately thankful for her pause, as she got to witness Stiles pausing as he went to clear the dishes, only to stop when he saw Derek’s extra cherry from his shake carefully balanced on the top of his straw.

Stiles popped the red fruit into his mouth, stem sticking out, and smiled softly to himself as he went about clearing the counter and clearing out Derek’s order.

+.+.+

“Why you little-” Talia let out a low growl of frustration as she smacked her hand against the half-opened entryway door, watching as the two boys ran out and down the street before she could even get a good look at their faces. She had just come in with Laura and Derek to get a couple of Claudia’s pies for dinner that night. Grades had just come out the day before and she wanted to celebrate her children all having passing grades by getting their favorite desserts. 

While waiting at the counter, Talia watched as two teenage boys smacked the large tray Stiles was carrying from the back out of his hands, causing food to fly all over the place and make a mess over the poor boy. Shouts and jeers were heard as they darted out, Talia hot on their tail to try and get names and faces but to no avail.

Turning around, Talia watched as Stiles knelt on the ground, head bowed, trying to clean up the spilled food. He was drenched in various drinks and covered in a mess of food. Laura and Derek were both crouched down trying to help clean up as well.

Before Talia could ask if Stiles knew who those boys were, she paused. Stiles’s hands were shaking, progressively getting worse, and he seemed half frozen to the spot aside from the tremors running up from his hands. Derek immediately dropped the stack of dishes he had been collecting and shuffled to sit right in front of Stiles on his knees, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, “breath. Come on, with me. In… One, two, three… out… good, again…”

Talia watched as her son gently coaxed Stiles into a familiar pattern, staving off what looked to be a panic attack. She watched silently as they went through the motions several times until Stiles’s hands shook less, only slight jumps of movement instead of literal tremors.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a spare shirt in my bag from practice.”

Derek easily pulled Stiles up from the ground and grabbed his discarded backpack at the same time. He wound an arm around the smaller boy’s body and steered him to the back, not even bothering to look at Laura or his mom as he did so. When she met her daughter’s eyes, Talia just got a shrug and Laura motioned for her to help with the scattered dishes. It wasn’t long until another server was coming out from the back with rags and a bucket, insisting they could get the rest.

By the time the pies came out, Derek and Stiles still hadn’t come back out. The waitress who cleaned up the mess gave them one of the pies for free and apologized profusely before Laura waved them off. They did however confirm that Claudia was out for the day but that they’d see about having her pull video footage from when the incident occurred, jotting down the time and making a note for when Claudia came back in the next day.

Laura had already headed out to the car, telling her mom she’d get it started and warmed up. Talia was just about to leave and wait Derek out in the car after five more minutes had passed, hand on the door, when the two boys came back.

Stiles was in clean clothes, face red and eyes puffy, and a bag clutched in his hand along with his keys. Derek had a grip on the back of his neck, not saying anything, but helping to keep the other grounded with the touch as they walked.

Before reaching the door, Stiles stopped, gave Derek a weak smile, and leaned in for a hug. They hugged one another tight and quick, then let go. Stiles turned immediately, head ducked low as he moved towards the kitchens. Talia vaguely heard something mumbled about ‘clock out’ and ‘Jeep’, so she assumed Stiles was clocking out and then heading out to his car that was parked out back. 

Derek watched after the other until he couldn’t see him through the kitchen entryway anymore. Then, he simply turned back towards his mom and walked out the door Talia held open for him. Neither of them said anything, but she did give her son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and a soft smile. Derek simply nodded in response.

+.+.+

Talia wasn’t willing to comment on it, but she was sure she wasn’t the only one to notice Derek’s own change of clothes. The maroon hoodie he walked in wearing was missing, in its place was a plain t-shirt Talia was sure he wore earlier that week.

Conveniently, Talia also noticed that alongside a pair of BHHS branded basketball shorts, Stiles walked away in a maroon hoodie that looked to be a size too big, hanging from his frame like a blanket rather than a jacket. She stayed quiet about it. Just like she stayed quiet about the extra pie Derek had carried out to the car in one hand (peach cobbler - his favorite).

+.+.+

“What about Thursday? Nick’s making lasagna, Peter, Lila, and their kids will be out camping until the weekend, Cora and Eric will be doing a sleepaway for Adventure Scouts, and Laura is staying at a friend’s. It’ll just be Derek at the house and you know how he is,” Talia urged.

Claudia grinned widely, leaning against the counter. They hadn’t had a chance to have dinner together in ages, even with the whole family, but with just the four of them? Claudia was willing to bet it had been years (“Three months, Claude,” Talia corrected with a huff). Noah had Thursday and Friday off this week, a rare ‘proper’ weekend, and Claudia could escape the diner for the night.

“Stiles doesn’t work that night - we could bring him along or have Derek hang at our house for the night,” Claudia innocently offered. Talia scowled.

“That’s cheating!” she huffed. “But Stiles is welcome to come, of course.”

“Actually, maybe it’s not cheating,” Claudia suddenly said, eyes focused to the side of where the two of them sat, where the counter stood near the front of the diner. Talia scrunched her eyebrows before turning to focus where her friend was already looking. They were sat at an empty booth, not too far away but just far enough to the side that neither of the boys seemed to notice either of their mothers’ presences. Thank god, Talia thought.

“Oh come on! You always get the same thing,” Stiles whined, pouting at Derek. “At least try a different shake! I promise the peanut butter banana is awesome, Der, swear it.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek smirked at his friend and leaned further against the counter as if in a challenge. “I order the same thing because I always go to the same place,” he said airily, “take me somewhere different and I’ll change it up.”

Stiles paused, eyes narrowing slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, leaning onto his hands across from Derek and letting his eyes scan over the other boy slowly as if analyzing the person in front of him to ensure it was indeed Derek Hale.

“Somewhere different?” Stiles confirmed. Derek gave a soft hum, his lips tilting up at the sides slightly. “Somewhere different… for dinner?” Derek rolled his eyes but the smile finally cracked across his lips and he gave a slow nod.

Stiles, in turn, pursed his lips, obviously biting back on a grin of his own. “You tryin’ to get me to ask you on a date, Hale?” he finally asked, unable to bite back on the wide grin that finally took over his face.

“Depends,” Derek drawled, “you actually gonna ask?”

“You know, you could ask me yourself,” Stiles challenged. Derek gave a small bark of laughter.

“I could,” he agreed, “but you asking is more fun.”

“Yea?” Stiles laughed, then rolled his eyes. He leaned fully onto the counter, bracing himself on his elbows. Derek moved in to mirror his position, putting them just a few inches in front of one another. “Alright. Will you go on a date with me, Derek Hale?”

Derek cracked a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Stiles Stilinski.”

Talia and Claudia watched as their sons stood, staring at one another with too wide of grins, acting like stupidly lovestruck teenagers without a care in the world. They watched as they made plans about where to go, when to go, and argued over who would drive. 

“So I guess it’s just us on Thursday, then,” Claudia mused, turning back to give her friend a half-smirk.

“Guess so,” Talia chuckled, then groaned almost immediately after. Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. “Peter won the bet,” she amended glumly.

“Really? It’s already been four months?” Claudia moaned, slumping in her chair. “That bastard’s going to be so smug…”

+.+.+

Years later, Derek would ask Stiles if he ever figured out why Derek insisted Stiles ask him out on their first date instead of the other way around. When Stiles had no answer, Derek would kneel down and tell him he wanted to be the one to ask the next big question. 

Stiles would then roll his eyes as he retold the story at their wedding, causing everyone to aww and coo. And when Peter (once again) told everyone about how he predicted the union of the two from the start, everyone would laugh (except for Claudia and Talia).

[bobbinacrossafricatake2]

Namibia - On the Move

May 19, 2024

Seb got up at 5:00 AM to visit Bruce again at the solar observatory. He was perched on a bench (asleep?) but seemingly happy to have company. His most powerful telescope was misbehaving, so we first looked through the other two. He tried to convince Sarah that she could simply look at his insta site, but it’s not the same, so he kept at it until the good one found Saturn and focused. Pretty dang cool to see the ring(s), and also a glimpse of an unfocused red Mars. Bruce muttered on about galaxies and nebulas and a bunch of stuff that Sarah frankly didn’t understand,but without the moon, she enjoyed the spectacular sky, complete with two shooting stars, the Milky Way, Sagittarius and a few other things she could marginally appreciate! Back at the room, Jill’s alarm had just gone off, so Sarah convinced her to turn off all the lights and look at the sky out by the pool. The Milky Way visible to the naked eye.

We finished packing and headed to breakfast in the lounge. Yum - a seemingly wholesome bowl, kombucha concoction (for gut health, as if that’s a priority here), cappuccino, coffee, and other treats. As usual, different light on the horizon for a new and wonderful look at the same view. We saw Ty and Idea one last time, said farewell to our hosts and jumped into a vehicle with Lance and Rebecca. The airports in Namibia are basically a few tents for shelter while waiting, a loo, and an area to keep fuel for the planes - not fancy! Our ginormous plane (ha - seats twelve, plus pilot and co-pilot, which is not part of the team) was there; we waited for a few other passengers and headed northwest. The views were amazing. First, the red dunes as far as one could see. Then a river bed that delineated where the dunes changed from red sand to white (well, tan). The textures and subtle color changes were only outdone by the change from dunes to flat(ish) sand to rough, sandy areas to mountains that were almost black. Our first pilot had made a comment that Namibia has many “table mountains” and true to her word, we passed over an area that was all about flat-topped mountains.

Our first flight had a stopover in Swalopmund where we swapped out a few passengers and refueled, then onto Doro Nawas. It was totally fun, when we landed to see our first Namibia pilot who remembered our names. (Ah, it’s the little things that make an impression). Most passengers boarded vehicles, but we had our third flight of the day to the camp’s airstrip. This flight was on a miniature (4-6 seater) Cessna. Max, our guide for the three days we’re at the Hoanib Skeleton Coast Camp, met us as we got off the flight, collected our bags, and drove us the 25 min or so to our new home. The terrain here is still desert, but oh so different from Soussusvlei. It’s scruffier, rougher, with small, rocky hills dotting the landscape.

We arrived at camp to the staff singing a welcome song. They greeted us with the traditional cold, wet towels and fresh drink (lemonade in this case). We went in, met a bunch of staff, and got the overview of the lodge. It’s seriously hot here, reportedly 97 degrees today. But in WDC, it would be unbearable, here it’s simply hot. It’s a tented camp, not even close to the opulence of the &Beyond lodge, but really charming. We are admittedly a bit concerned that there’s no A/C - will see how that works out. We’re told that the winds usually come from the west (Atlantic) but for the last five days and at least the next few, they’re from the east, bringing hot air. Oh well, Mother Nature (and maybe climate change?) at work. We opted for lunch before going to our room. Yummy.

Our room/tent here is the closest one on one side of the lodge. It’s super nice, albeit more simple than the last place. But it’s well designed, with a nice view toward the watering hole for local creatures, good storage for two, plugs and WiFi (again only in the room, not in the common areas), a patio with lounge chairs and table, and a good bathroom with double sinks. Can’t really ask for more! We settled in quickly and then each took naps, it having been a short night. Tea at 4:30 PM (or “sweet and savory” as they dubbed it) was nice with more lemonade and we met our vehicle companions for the next few days, Robert and Jo. They’re super nice, which bodes well for a good time with Max. Off we went for our first game ride. Driving out of camp each of us admitted later that we had the lowest expectations ever for a game drive. We’re in the desert, with almost nothing green, loads of sand and rock, and not a creature in sight (except the flies and moths at lunch). Hurrah for being wrong!! Our first sighting was a baby giraffe. Sooooooooooo adorable. He was alone, very much blended into the background with very pale markings, and well, we all swooned. On we went and saw oryxes and springboks (hanging together), a few interesting birds, another large giraffe, and some baboons. The highlight was when we found Charlie leading Obi back toward camp. There are four lions on this private concession,3 sisters (Alpha, Beta and Charlie) and Obi, a male who was causing trouble in another area and re-located before locals took matters into their own hands, which would not be a good outcome for Obi. Now, he now has the choice of three girls. Not bad. Charlie is his favorite - for now. Charlie in the lead, we tracked them for a while. Stunning creatures, both; they’re hungry and on the hunt (watch out baby giraffe!). Such majestic presence. Max was great tracking, explaining, finding us good photo and viewing opportunities, and generally making sure our experience was fab. Indeed it was.

Back at camp, we were greated with our drink of choice (called in by Max as we approached camp) and enjoyed it at the firepit. There are only eight guests in camp today, and the staff moved the tables to the lounge area patio. It had cooled just enough to make dining al fresco very comfortable. Dinner, of course, was delicious: broccoli tempura as appetizer and a pork dish for the main course. The staff is quite attentive to Jill’s dairy limitation, and offered alternatives as needed. Mango sorbet was a perfect replacement on this warm night.

[kyemeruthie]

A long layover

12 hours. Arriving during the wee hours of the morning. From a delayed flight. Good decision to get a room at the airport's capsule hotel.

I realized a number of things.

One, that I'm willing to spend extra bucks for comfort.

Five years ago, at the same airport, I lugged it out at the benches and public restroom, if only to save at least a thousand pesos or so for renting an overnight room. I was so exhausted that time, but hey, that's part of the backpacking charm.

Fast forward today, I thought about staying at the carpeted free lounge areas. But I'd arrive at three in the morning and I'd need to wait until three in the afternoon before I go to my end destination. So before leaving Manila, I booked that last capsule room.

The flight was delayed, but I am so happy to sleep with fluffy pillows. No hassle to hug my essentials because I am in a private room. It was small for sure, something you'd expect in a capsule. I get to shower nicely come sunrise. This is good.

Two, why can't we have a nice airport in Manila?

I've been at KLIA2 a number of times now, majority of which have been for transit. It never disappointed me -- lounges are spacious, you'd still be dignified to sleep or stay for some time because there are different kinds of chair to sit on, a working charging station, and clean restrooms with shower options. The duty free shops are a bonus, the food choices are good. Wifi is 24hrs! Wow. The longest I'd get in Manila is three hours, if it's a good time; an hour if we're at peak periods.

I'd know that it's also commuter-friendly because the airport trains are connected to the city. There's also a shuttle that would take you to the other terminal. You would never mind walking because the walkalators are working and the pathways could accommodate a large number of pedestrians.

In general, NAIA is definitely lagging behind its SEA counterparts. We need to seriously work on how we'd boost ground support and better airport service. Gahdd, we even had the audacity to say "we give the world our best," but the very gateway to our country does not live up to the hero it was named after. And all we're thinking about is changing it's name.

Three, aisle seats are equally good.

As a forever window seater because of the view and isolation from the larger crowd, I have a renewed appreciation for aisle seats. It's roomier, easier to stretch for a rather long flight, and faster to receive food service + retrieving bags. The mask makes it ok for me to sleep because I won't worry too much about my mouth agape. Hahaha! It could also be that the people sitting near me are not as nosy as the previous ones I experienced. No middle seat still. I don't know anyone who likes middle seats.

Logging these thoughts for now. I'd be on a long journey for almost a month. This should be fun, especially because I'm out of loop from work most of the time. Excited for this coming week's conference and then that long vacation in Down Under with my parents. Tomorrow, I'm off to visit the highest mountain in Thailand. I hope my legs won't fail me. Hahaha!

Until the next post from somewhere! :)