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canyouhearthelight · 3 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 139

Day Two of the Food Festival! This one has a specific request from @baelpenrose, which was fun to play with in the Low-Stim session (always on day 2).

To everyone who has reached out to tell me how much they are enjoying getting to see Sophia actually relax and just have fun for once.... Y’all are the best! It’s been fun writing it, too.

New reader shout outs go to @corvallis, @penguin--person, @amphibiousuprising, @chip5-0, and I think @lostsoul8822. I think that’s everyone... If I missed you, please DM me, and I’ll add you to the next chapter.

On with the show!

The first day of the Festival, Conor and I ended up staying through not only Maverick’s shift but the one after, just so we could drag him to our favorite spots. Day two, however, Conor was on deck as Support Personnel as well as Maverick, and neither were assigned to me - for the first half of day two, we were in the Low Stim Mode, so I was pretty sure I could brave it on my own with everyone else’s proximity alerts and my own personal hyper-alertness preventing accidental bumps.

For me, the most exciting part was the different foods offered, and the fact that I could focus on just the food. Not having to ignore the other stimuli was a completely relaxing experience. The visual of the mural, with everything present, was still completely different in the even, indirect lighting. The dual nature of it was toned down significantly, leading to the overall feel being softer and overall more pleasant without being distracting.

Halfway through a very good pad thai, I spotted Derek and Sam sitting with Ivan and poking at something that Sam was clearly excited about and Derek was equally doubtful of. I circled around so they could see me approaching, and made a point to wave. “What do you think?” I asked, trying to sign as I spoke but hampered by the food in my hands.

“It was a good try,” Derek confessed, cheeks stuffed with something that had previously been on a plate to his left as a backup plan.

Setting my food down, I grinned mischievously. “Doing my best,” I signed, leading to laughter on all sides.

“You just told him you do him the best,” Ivan murmured, my face immediately flooding red.

“That is NOT what I meant,” I tried to explain out loud, over-enunciating while I clenched my hands in embarrassment.

To his credit, Derek signed what he seemed to understand I meant, emphasizing each sign. It was clear that I had gotten several out of order and added one that changed everything overall.

After repeating the signs and getting confirmation, I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “I tried.”

Ivan was trembling with laughter. “You. You did,” he admitted. “But that was… wow.” His head dropped on his hands as he shook silently.

“Souffle pancakes?” I offered, finger spelling the word souffle since I had no freaking clue how to actually sign it.

“Egg pancake,” Derek explained, poking the one I offered and contemplating the jiggle.

“It’s cinnamon sugar, and not gooey,” I explained.

Apparently I got that one right, because Derek immediately stabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth. The only judgement I needed was the fact that he dragged the entire remaining pancake onto his plate.

Sam watched his roommate before contemplating his own sample. Before he could even ask, I held up a cup full of macerated berries. “And fruit topping for you, sir.”

“Are those my berries?” he asked, skeptical.

I shook my head. “Bog standard, from the consoles. Your vegetables and fruits are being used in the other shifts. We didn’t want to give anyone here unexpected tastes.”

He nodded and dumped the entire cup of fruit over his pancake, digging in happily.

Ivan batted his eyes at me until I explained. “Sam’s produce has… unexpected pairings. Tomatoes that pair with cheesecake and wines, strawberries that really go well with steak…”

“The mango that goes with beer but not fish?”

“Yeah, that one. Von soil does strange things to produce, turns out.”

“Those matcha-edamame are amazing though.”

“For ice cream, yes. For tea, less so. They’re like… cooking matcha, almost.” I laughed. They actually worked better for ice cream than matcha did, oddly - reducing the sugar content but still giving the same flavor.

“One vendor on the last day is using nothing but my produce,” Sam announced happily. “They asked my permission.”

“That’s good!” I encouraged him. “They should always ask your permission to do things like that.”

“People ask with requisition forms,” he agreed. “Mona asked in person.”

Note to self: much more patronage at Mona’s normal spot, I swore in my head. She specialized in vegetarian dishes, and honestly made some of the best fried cabbage I’d had in my life. Knowing that she was so considerate of Sam cemented her as my new favorite takeaway place.

After a little more chat, I finally waved my goodbyes to everyone and strolled slowly to the next tempting stall. I wasn’t really in any hurry, and did more people-watching than I did eating. Latkes were infinitely more interesting when I could overhear people arguing over family recipes. A small bowl of udon was delicious, but not nearly as flavorful as the discussion around hot versus cold, what to top them with, egg or no egg… the only thing anyone seemed to agree on was that the smiling vendor ‘obviously’ ground their own flour, because the flour provided by the consoles was the wrong texture.

Another mental note: don’t learn to make udon. Despite what I had previously believed, it takes a lifetime to make it right, turns out.

Wandering further down, I was delighted by the discovery of something that was very clearly Hannah’s doing: demonstrations of older food prep techniques. Simon winked at me as he carried on a demonstration of - insanely - how to hand pull toffee. I didn’t know he could do that. Muna was demonstrating the correct way to make chapatis and handing them out as fast as she was making them. Clearly, she had been making them her whole life, because at no point did I actually see her look at them, but every single one was perfect.

Laughter erupted over my shoulder, and I whipped my head around to see the source. After wading through a crowd of smiling faces, I couldn’t help but join in. There, right in front of the entire Ark, was Maverick trying to flip takoyaki as fast as the person demonstrating, and ending up with just a mess of octopus and batter on his side. Both Maverick and the person guiding him were smiling, though, and in the end, the vendor handed Maverick four perfectly-round balls and quickly devoured all of the - less shapely, so to speak - ones on my partner’s side. With an exuberant cheer and extending his arms wide to the crowd, the man exclaimed “The first takoyaki of a new student are always my favorite! Nothing tastes better!”

After bowing to his sensei, Maverick turned and spotted me, face still flushed with laughter. He offered his food to a smaller man I did not recognize, who must have been the person Maverick was Supporting, before waving to me and continuing on. Despite the urge to crush him in a hug, I forced my feet to stay in place and reminded myself that he was working.

By the time I trusted myself not to race after him, I realized someone had been trying to get my attention and had resorted to messaging me rather than shouting. “Phee, I don’t know what la-la land you are lost in, but look 100 yards to your four.”

The hell was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t scheduled to work this shift, as far as I was aware. Craning my neck over my shoulder, I turned to see… Apparently a hallucination. It had to be. There was no chance in any of the nine hells that Arthur Farro was dishing out spaghetti, much less smiling while doing it.

Almost dreamlike, I found myself drifting over to confirm that I was wrong, only to be startled when he shoved a plate with not only spaghetti but two gorgeous pieces of garlic bread under my nose. “Special plates, you can’t smell anything unless it’s on purpose.”

“You… Spaghetti?” I asked, eloquent as ever.

“Family recipe.”

“Leaning into the stereotype a bit, aren’t you?” I asked carefully before shoving as much of one thick, crusty piece of toast in my mouth as I could.

He shook his head. “Anyone who tells you their family is Italian and denies having a family recipe for anything is a damned liar.”

Skeptically, I took a bite. It was amazing. “Ah ee deh rehahee,” I tried to get out around the heap of pasta I was steadily shoving in my mouth.

“Maverick is a very bad influence on your table manners,” he observed drily, plating more portions and handing them out. “And no. Not happening.”

“You know I can cook.”

“Not the point. I also know that you will fiddle with it until it is unrecognizable, so there’s really no point in giving it to you.”

Defiantly, I took a smaller bite and chewed carefully. “Garlic, onions, obviously. Sausage and minced… Lamb? But that’s probably just for this session, knowing you it’s spicy sausage regularly. I’m not getting carrot, though, so no soffritto? Unexpected…. Is that thyme, I’m tasting?”

“Rosemary, you heathen. And you’re still wrong.”

I mumbled to myself. “What did I get wrong? It’s gotta be the lamb… maybe he does usually use the lamb? I’m certain it is lamb…”

“It is lamb, and no, I don’t usually use it. But you left several things out.”

I stared at the plate again, confused. “I didn’t think I needed to mention the tomatoes….”

“Basil… oregano….” he drawled.

“Duhhh?” I poked through the last bite on my plate, sniffing it, trying to figure out what I was missing. “Fine, you win, I’m lost.”

“Mushrooms, Sophia. There’s mushrooms. Jeezus. It was an easy one, too.” He showed me a bowl full of what looked like cooked and crumbled sausage, only for me to realize it was the tiniest diced mushrooms I had ever seen in my life.

“I am dying to know how you got them that small.”

“With a knife?” He arched an eyebrow at me as he turned to start another batch of sauce.

“Yeah, no shit, Arthur.”

“Correct, there is no shit in the spaghetti,” he confirmed cheekily as the vegetables started sizzling.

“Asshole,” I laughed, scraping the remaining sauce from my plate with the piece of bread I saved just for that purpose. Just as I was frowning at the sauce-less plate and remaining half-piece of bread, a scalding hot dollop of fresh sauce invaded my vision.

“You love me, because I won’t let you frown at your bread like that.”

Fiiiinnnne I sighed in my head as I shoved a piece of saucy, saucy bread into my cheeks and waggled my fingers to let him get back to work.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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thesaltysocialworker · 4 years ago

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For the first time

For the First Time

Synopsis: You and Loki are long-time childhood friends, who made an agreement about a certain birthday and your virginity. Both of you are too scarde to act on your feelings, but Sif sets a plan in motion using Thor to make sure you end up with the man you love.

Warnings: Sex.

“So what do you want to do for your birthday this year?”

You friends sat across from you as you picked at your breakfast. “I’m not sure. Maybe just a quiet night in.” You strategically moved your food around your plate making it look like you ate something. “A quiet night in? That’s it?” One of the other young women asked. You muttered something about thinking about it before dismissing yourself from the group, rising from the table in the golden halls of the Palace of Asgard. You retreated to the gardens, the sun rising and casting beautiful hues across the dewy leaves and grass. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear one of your friends chasing after you. Sif, one of the few noble ladies in Asgard that you actually liked.

“You’ve been positively melancholy for days, y/n. What’s going on?” You lingered on the edge of the gardens, glancing back into the halls and at the two royal young men eating with the warriors three. “Walk with me?” You asked Sif, and she nodded. The two of you disappearing into the gardens and away from the crowds. “It’s Loki—“ You started, and Sif rolled her eyes. “It’s always Loki. Why don’t you just tell him you have feelings for him and save us all the longing gazes and tension?” You shook your head. “He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, Sif. We made an agreement about this particular birthday.” You started, wringing your hands together uncomfortably. “What was the agreement?”

You glanced around one more time before speaking softly. “If we were still virgins at this age, we’d be with each other.” Sif actually sputtered with laughter at this. “Then you should be looking forward to this birthday, you already know what you’re getting from Loki!” You slugged her in the arm and she laughed. You weren’t as strong as Sif or the Warriors Three; your talents were more like Loki’s. You were quite the master of magic, though not quite as strong or as well-versed as your friend. “That’s just it, I know he’s not a virgin but I still am. So what if he intends to collect on our bargain? I’m going to look like a fool, I’m not going to know what to do!” You felt more panicky as you spoke, your voice rising in pitch ever so slightly. “Or worse, what if he doesn’t want me?! I’ve seen him flirting with other women at court.”

“You’ll know what to do, it’s pretty natural. Trust me, he wants you. I can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks about you.” Despite Sif finding your turmoil rather foolish in the scheme of things, she put her hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “So why don’t we have a party here? Thor has offered to let us use his chambers. That way you’re not too far from home and you can have that ‘quiet’ evening you wanted. Or at least as quiet as it gets where Thor is concerned.” Sif smiled, and you nodded. “Thank you, for listening. I knew if I told the others they’d laugh me away from the table. I know you think it’s silly in the scheme of things.” The two of moved back into the hall, where the population had thinned out greatly. You parted ways from Sif, going to the library to study.

Sif waited until your back was turned when she approached Thor. “Thor, I need your help with something.” She gestured him away from the warriors three. “Is everything well?” He asked, concerned for his friend. “Oh, I’m fine. I just need you to lavish y/n with attention tonight. It’s her birthday, and your brother still hasn’t told her he has feelings for her. The only way he’s going to do anything about it is if we force his hand.” At first, Thor looked like he was going reject the idea completely. But then he gradually broke into a coy grin. “Sounds enjoyable.”

“I also volunteered your personal chambers for the party spot.” Sif announced as she stepped away from him. “You’re always volunteering me for something, Sif!” Thor called to her retreating frame, and he swore he heard her laughing as she walked away.

Thor’s sitting area was beautifully decorated in your favorite colors, with appetizers and drinks set out before the guests. As soon as you entered the room, everyone shouted Happy Birthday, as if the party was a surprise. People greeted you one-by-one, and you could see Loki lingering near the fireplace speaking with one of your girlfriends. She laughed, batting her eyes lashes at the youngest prince. You felt the color drain from your features. It was all you could focus on, until the elder Prince stepped before you. “Happy birthday, y/n. You look radiant.” He grinned, blocking your view of Loki and your supposed friend.

“Thank you, Thor.” You forced a smile. Much to your surprise, he wrapped you in an embrace. You couldn’t hide the evident shock on your face, you’d always thought of Thor as a big brother but the embrace was oddly intimate. When he released you, he placed a hand at the small of your back and led you to the couch closest to the gifts and the food. When you sat, you noticed Loki watching the two of you with not so shielded interest, and maybe just a hint of jealousy? Thor got you a drink as you settled in your seat, and offered you one of your gifts as your friends started to gather around. Then he sat beside you. “Please, open mine first.” Thor handed you a small box, wrapped in brilliant gold paper. “You didn’t have to get me anything, letting us use your space was enough.”

“I wanted to do something special for you, you deserve it.” He draped his arm over the couch and around you as you opened the gift, and you noticed a hush of whispers throughout the room. You wanted to ask Thor if he was drunk already, but thought it rude. You just couldn’t understand his sudden interest. You had tugged the golden paper off a velvet box, and when you clicked it open you were shocked to find a beautiful ruby set in an intricate gold setting. It was near gaudy, but it was beautiful and glistened in the candlelight of the room. You lifted the chain and held it up to let the others see. “Thor, this is beautiful! Thank you so much. You really shouldn’t have.”

“A beautiful gift for a beautiful woman.” He winked, setting his drink down. “May I put it on you?” You nodded, and Thor stood brushed your hair ever so gently off your neck as he clipped the ruby into place. Your friends exclaimed how beautiful it looked, and you could feel the jealousy flying off of them. “It’s kind of heavy.” You laughed, turning it over in your hands. You were given a few more trinkets from your friends; books, sweets, perfumes. Then everyone moved to mingle with each other. You’d been speaking with one of your friends when Loki finally approached you. “May I speak with you, privately?” He asked, his voice a low growl. “That’d be rude for the birthday girl to leave her own party, Loki.” Sif added, sliding up next to you and wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

Loki opened his mouth to respond and Sif caught your arm, dragging you away from him and onto the next guest. “What’re you doing, Sif?!” You whispered as she ushered you across the room. “Helping you land your man. Just follow my lead.” You glanced back at Loki over your shoulder, mouthing ‘sorry’ at him. You could see him becoming uncomfortable, angry even. The lines of his body had tensed, his jaw went rigid, his hands clenched into fists. When you turned back around you were toe-to-toe with Thor again. “Dance with me, y/n.” You were clearly shocked, groups had moved to dance on the open floor near the near fireplace. You were in Thor’s arms before you could even answer, moving to a quick and upbeat rhythm across the room.

“Sif put you up to this. Didn’t she?” You asked, finally connecting all the dots. “Perhaps I simply find you charming, y/n.” He spun you out from him, and when you came back towards him your back fell against his chest. His large hands fell to your waist, it felt oddly awkward and uncomfortable. But it was enough to throw Loki right over the edge. Over the music you heard glass shatter, the music halted as the wine glasses shattered and red wine washed over the floor. The table that had been holding the appetizers was also made of glass, and had also shattered causing food to fall into the wine. “What in Odin’s beard—“ Volstaag practically shrieked, watching the food soak in the wine with mourning. You knew what had happened, especially when Loki made his escape without much notice.

“Go to him before he comes back and does that to my head.” Thor winked at you, occupying the guests and staff while you snuck out of the room after Loki. You slipped into the hallway and saw Loki retreating to his room with long strides, trying to get escape as quickly as possible. You lifted your skirts as you chased after him, quite literally having to run. “Loki, stop-“ You called out in a stern whisper as not to attract attention. His shoulders tensed, but he stopped. “How kind of you to leave my brother to come check on my well-being, you seemed to be enjoying yourself so much that you couldn’t even take the time to receive wishes from your truest and oldest friend.”

“Sorry, I could tell you were trying to bed my friend and I was trying not to ruin it for you.” It was amazing how Loki could get under your skin so easily, drove you to anger and insanity. Loki seemed confused by your words. “I was showing her my gift for you.” You felt your cheeks turning red, and you suddenly wished for a spell to make you vanish, or a hole to open up and swallow you. He pulled the small box wrapped in emerald green paper out of his pocket and offered it to you. “Why would you think I’d flirt with your friends? The only woman, the only person I’ve ever had eyes for is standing before me now.” You felt your heart leap into your throat, especially once you opened the box and saw a beautiful and intricate ring sitting on the velvet inside. A gold band with a massive emerald.

“Is this—“ you started to ask the question, finding it hard to speak through the knot in your voice. “I hope it to be, yes. I consider it a promise. Just like the one you and I made many years ago about this very evening.” You turned as red as the ruby Thor had given you that evening. “I thought you’d forgotten.” Loki chuckled, a mischievous grin meeting his eyes. “It’s consumed me, y/n. I’ve practically been counting down the seconds.” You shook your head, glancing to the floor out of embarrassment. “Loki, I know you’ve been with others.” That cocky smirk only continued to grow. “I don’t deny that I’ve been with other women. But those other women were only doing their job. I wanted to practice so I could make this evening perfect for you.”

“You went to the Royal harem to practice for this evening.” If it wasn’t so bizarre, so oddly Loki, you may have been offended. You offered him back his gift, and you saw his face fall, the color drain from it. “Please do it properly, place it on my finger.” He exhaled the breath he’d been holding and slipped it on your finger. He then offered you a hand, and you knew if you accepted that hand there’d be no turning back. You took his hand and let him lead you away from the party and towards his chambers.

You’d been in his chambers before, but the intimacy of this moment was difficult to miss. He’d lit candles, dimmed the lights and set out your favorite wine along with chocolate covered strawberries. You were nervous, he’d been practicing for you and you’d never done this before! You thought about drinking that whole bottle of wine yourself to loosen up, but you wanted to remember this moment with him. Loki seemed to notice your tension, his hands falling to your shoulders. He pressed his lips to your temple. “Relax, love.” He whispered, his breathy whisper sending chills down your spine.

“May I?” his hands fell to the buttons of your gown. “You could use your gifts and free me of this gown. Why take the time?” You whispered, his lips moving over your neck. “I want to savor this moment. I want to savor you, and take my time as my hands explore every inch of your flesh. Somethings are worth the extra work.” You whispered a soft ‘yes’ and he began working the buttons down your back, his fingers tickling your spine. You felt the silk of your gown fall down your body and pool at your feet. You felt Loki’s fingers brush over the soft skin of your stomach, your sides and up your thighs. “You are more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined. But this-” Loki pulled at the ruby that Thor had given you. “Has got to go.” He slipped it over your head, placing it on a nearby table. You had to smile a little at his jealousy.

You spun around, standing there in only your panties. His pupils were lust blown as he tried to take in every inch of you. “Come here, my love.” He pulled you towards him, bringing your hands to his shirt. You worked quickly, thankful he wasn’t wearing his armor as you felt yourself growing inpatient. You pushed his shirt off his shoulders and couldn’t help but run your hands over his sculpted muscles and pale skin, you were almost entranced and in that moment you lost your fear. He hummed his appreciation, pulling you closer. The feel of his cold leather on your skin was a different sensation, and you found yourself pushing your thighs together. Loki noticed your not-so-subtle attempt to quench your desire. He lifted you, his hands falling to your backside as he carried you to his bed. While you were against him you felt how hard he was against your stomach, and the fear came back. He was huge, how painful was this going to be?

The two of you fell to his mattress and the green silk sheets. Loki brought his lips to yours, it started gently and sweetly but it grew heated. You could feel him trying to restrain himself for your sake when he wanted to plunge in. But he was about your comfort, your speed. As he kissed your neck, moving his lips lower to your nipples he moved to the waistband of your panties. He glanced up at you to ask for permission, but lust was clouding your logical thought. You raised your hips off the bed and towards his hand. “Please.” You practically begged. He fingers moved over you, pressing against your sensitive nub as you gasped into his mouth. As his fingers created their own magic, he moved a finger inside you, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. He moved in and out slowly, your groan causing him to grin as he moved to your other breast with his lips.

You could feel yourself tightening around his fingers; a sensation that was totally unfamiliar to you. You felt your universe begin to close in around you, the only thing that existed in that moment was you and Loki and the pleasure coursing through your veins. It was like cracking glass, and then it shattered as you tightened around his fingers and waves of pleasure crashed over you. He gave you a moment to collect yourself, but somewhere during that time he had removed your panties. You were eager, you helped him shimmy out of his trousers and he positioned himself over you. “You’re holding your breath, y/n. I could take the pain away.” He whispered, burying his face where your neck and shoulder met, taking in the softness of your skin, the scent of you. “I’ll be fine, Loki. Please.” You were begging him, because even through the fear you wanted him, all of him.

Loki slowly but surely pushed himself into you, and you gripped his shoulders tightly. It was uncomfortable, and you held your breath. But then he wasn’t moving anymore. “Are you well?” Loki asked, and you nodded. He moved slowly, letting you adjust to his size and pace. “You are perfect, love. You’re so tight.” Loki purred into your ear, causing goose pimples to rise over your flesh. You couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, you felt in rhythm with him, you felt as if you were one being. Your hands moved across his back, over his sharp features and ran through his hair. You wanted to remember everything about him, you were trying to memorize him with your fingertips.

“I love you.” You whispered, feeling the pressure coiling with-in you again. “And I you.” Sweat had started to form on his brow, his hips moving quicker against your body. “Please, Loki. Please!” You begged, desperate to fly off that precipice that he had sent you hurtling off of before. He reached between your bodies, his fingers toying with you as he continued to move and you couldn’t imagine a more amazing sensation in all your days. There it was, and it was better with him inside you. You clenched down on him, and with a few more thrusts and his hands latched on your hips he released.

He caught himself before he collapsed atop you, rolling over and keeping you with him; pressed against his body as he rained kisses down on your lips, your forehead, your nose. “You did perfectly.” Loki whispered, his fingers moving over your stomach. You recognized the spell, a contraception spell. “Thank you, for being a patient teacher.” You whispered, a small smile dancing on your lips. “You’re not a difficult student to work with, y/n.” He chuckled.

Loki pulled the blankets up over the two of you, continuing to hold you against his body. “I’m sorry, about earlier. I think we got set-up by Sif and your brother.” You whispered, nuzzling against him. “Then we owe them a thank you, don’t we? I don’t think we were the only two in that room withholding feelings for one another.” He grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “We’ll repay them in-kind in the morning, Mischief.” With the snap of a finger, the lights were out and you were asleep beside Loki but before you drifted out you couldn’t help but look forward to your next lesson.

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chandiewashere · 3 years ago

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Hi all! Soooo, I tried to write a happy ending for once, and this one is christmas-y! I almost took a hard left onto heartbreak avenue, but I love y'all so here you go. Just some lovely Itadori fluff, enjoy!

warnings: brief mention of food, very early christmas-ing, one mention of being picked up but- its Itadori who are we kidding? fluff!! Itadori x neutral!reader Masterlist

It was safe to say that Christmas was Itadori's favorite season. But Christmas isn't a season, yes it is. To Itadori, it is, and it is to you now too.

Initially, you weren't too keen on putting up the Christmas tree in November, but now you wouldn't have it any other way. Anything to see the ways his puppy-dog eyes sparkle as he hops around the house, singing along to a Christmas song he put on in the living room.

Anything to have him take you on impromptu ice-skating trips, or dance around the kitchen as you bake Christmas cookies, or the cute way he always insists on lifting you up to put the star on top of the tree. Christmas is Itadori's favorite season, and soon it's yours too.

Your friends think you're insufferable with the way your apartment looks like a Hallmark store by the time Halloween is over. They think you're insane with the mistletoe hung above every doorway – which has led to some interesting situations. Itadori's friends have accepted it at this point, unable to squash the sunshine that radiates from the pink puffball. And Itadori, well, he's as happy as he could ever be to see you dressed up in the ugliest Christmas sweater he can buy you every year.

This year is different, though. This year Itadori seems unusually … chipper.

And you've asked around, wondering if maybe there was a new movie he wanted to see. Or maybe there was a particularly wretched sweater on sale, or maybe Nobara had invited you him to her New Years' party again, even after what happened last time. But still, nothing. Everything was overwhelmingly normal, and while Itadori was usually a happy person, you could help but feel curious as to what had been making him so happy.

It wasn't until Christmas Eve, as you were sitting at dinner, the thought completely forgotten, that you would find out. It wasn't until as you were munching happily on a cinnamon carrot that Itadori said he had a surprise, abruptly leaving the table, leaving you confused with half-chewed food in your mouth.

It wasn't until later still, while you and your puffball lay on the couch, sipping wine and listening to some soft music, that you faintly wondered if you had any reason to worry.

You were absently admiring the Christmas tree, all blues and yellows, and reds, and wondered if you had ever been happier than this. You lay your head on his chest, only to feel shuffling and an arm moving around behind you. Soon he lay still and sighed contentedly, moving your face to look towards him as he stared lovingly into your eyes.

A kiss kere, an I love you there.

It wasn't until then that he pulled out a little velveteen box.

#I love this im sorry #chandie.writes #chandies.fics #itadori yuji x you #itadori yuuji #itadori.fluff #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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hopelessly-me · 4 years ago

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I wish you would write a fic where Clint has a ridiculous amount of puppies. An abundance of puppies.

Hey anon! So this probably didn’t exactly go how you thought it would but... apparently I need platonic! Clintasha today because this was soft. So I hope you enjoy! Thanks for this one. =)

Word count: 1234 (which, trust me, made me laugh and laugh and laugh)

Natasha could hear all the ruckus the moment she stepped off of the elevator, and judging by the noise, it had to be coming from Clint’s apartment. She was torn for a moment- she wanted nothing more than to get out of her mission clothes and soak in the bath, maybe drink a glass of wine and maybe listen to early 90s pop music while polishing off the bag of chips she had hidden in her bedroom; she also wanted to see what Clint got himself into this time while worried about the smell. She could always check on Clint and his chaos in the morning- she was positive that whatever he had going on in his apartment it would likely be there in the morning.

She entered her apartment and looked around the minimalist space. It was quieter, that much was true. Everything was clean, nothing out of place. She made it to her fridge, finding it bare of any real food, which only made her sigh when her stomach growled. She glanced towards her door, towards where she knew the noise would be, and just down the hall it would be even louder; but she knew there would be food, or at least someone to take care of it for her. Her fingers drummed on the fridge door until she closed it.

Her bedroom was currently in a state of organized chaos. She had left in a hurry, so a few clothes were scattered about, most of which needed to be hung up. One laundry basket was toppled over- she hadn’t made it down to dry cleaning when she got her mission and, well- a dirty mission outfit was better than nothing at all. Was she ever going to admit that to anyone? No, especially not Clint who would take that knowledge and run with it. She peeled off the well worn outfit and threw it into the red basket, collecting other dirty clothes that went into the black basket. She hovered near the purple basket, mostly empty aside from a pair of joggers and a hoodie. She picked it up and examined it before she carefully buried her face in it. Clean. Asshole.

With a sigh and a small smile, Natasha changed into the clothes Clint had purposely left in her room and she walked back through her apartment and out the door. She didn’t bother knocking, neither of them did anymore. Worst case scenario, Clint was naked, and that was a sight she was all too familiar with. Best case scenario- he was watching YouTube videos much too loudly again to drown out the quiet, something else she was entirely too familiar with.

The moment she opened the door she saw that it was somewhere in the middle. Clint was laying on the ground, his face scrunched up in pure joy as he laughed, a band of puppies squirming and wiggling all around him, biting at his clothes, licking his nose. Natasha closed the door before one could run out, a small little puppy that was almost all black beside the bit of white on its chest. She hesitated before she scooped it up, her nose wrinkling at the puppy breath as her nose became assaulted by a wet tongue.

“What is happening?” She asked.

“Heaven. I have died and gone to heaven,” Clint exclaimed. He sat up, carefully holding onto the puppies that had made his chest their home, and his smile was radiant. “The humane society called asking if I can watch some puppies until they have foster homes. They called me Tash. They asked how many I could take….. I said yes. After the third time asking how many, they gave up and gave me this hoard.”

Natasha wanted to tell him this was a horrible idea- that he falls in love and forms attachments far too quickly to be allowed this sort of private luxury. But those big blue eyes, filled with more joy than she thinks she’s ever seen before, softened the words before they could even come out. There wasn’t an ounce of darkness in that room, not a moment where she thought that maybe he was overcompensating for something, anything, to explain the dog hoard. And if a few days of being in puppy heaven meant she could get peeks of her best friend in a state of pure happiness, she was going to soak it in as long as she could despite the puppy breath and dog hair everywhere.

“How many of them are there?” Natasha asked, carefully making her way over to Clint, dancing around tiny paws and snapping jaws.

“Thirteen total,” Clint answered. “I think this is a sign- thirteen. Our favorite number!”

Natasha rolled her eyes and carefully lowered herself to the ground. It didn’t take long before she was swarmed by the tiny terrors. For a brief moment she thought about getting up, moving away from the nips and the licks, and the one that had already declared the hoodie strings a fun challenge. But there had to be something behind this madness that made Clint so happy that maybe she was ready to try it out herself.

“You are insane,” Natasha pointed out.

“Never claimed to be rational,” Clint said before he flopped back down, most of the puppies going back to him, showering him with love. “But it doesn’t get any better than this.”

Natasha wasn’t sure how long she laid there with Clint, quietly soaking in his squeals and laughs, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he tended to the puppies. As they calmed down, one had climbed it’s way onto Natasha’s abdomen, laying down with it’s big black nose just inches from her chin. Puppy breath aside, even she had to admit that the big, loud yawn the pup let out before it nuzzled into her was adorable to say the least. She carefully reached up and pet the puppy, it’s fur like velvet under her fingers.

“Sucker.”

Natasha looked over at Clint, his soft smile as he watched her with the puppy. She glanced back at the sleeping pup on her chest, golden in color, soft, peaceful, and she looked back at Clint. He reached out and touched the side of the puppy, one finger brushing against its side delicately. There was still no darkness behind his eyes, no demons bothering him for the day. Natasha considered buying him a puppy hoard if that meant that maybe it would chase away all the things that kept him awake at night; she knew if he could find the same thing for her, he would do the same.

“Maybe,” Natasha admitted, letting her hand fall away from the sleeping pup and brush against his arm. His lips twitched back up to a bigger, brighter smile for a moment before he took a deep breath and turned his head, closing his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Natasha felt a sense of calm and peace that came by so rarely. She was grounded into the moment, soft and quiet, sharing it with the one person she could share her soul with. She took a deep, cleansing breath herself, the pup moving just a little on her before they both seemed to settle.

Then again- maybe this could be enough for the both of them, if only for a few days.

#platonic clintasha #I am feeling very soft today

55 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 4 years ago

Text

Sweater Weather Roster Description:

(So I probably definitely forgot some things. There’s a lot of complicated matching up that went into this. But, regardless, I wanted to post it, so we’ll fix and add as we go! <3)

James Potter: (Pots, Pothead, Potty)

Position: Left Wing, First Line

Number: 7

Years In The League: 7—drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 25. 6’1”. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, white. Can usually be seen wearing whatever Lily buys him. Known on the team for being a joker, but also someone you can go to for any reason. Hyper.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: Girlfriend, Lily Evans.

Closest to on the team: Sirius Black and Sergei Ivanov, but basically everyone.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sirius Black

Lives With: Girlfriend Lily Evans

Injury: Multiple concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Putting his contacts in, because he usually wears glasses, gets him really into the game mode. His favorite food is treacle tart, which he had when he took his girlfriend Lily to England—now she makes it for him on his birthday.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he told them that he and Lily were pregnant and they all celebrated.

Superstition: He has to call his girlfriend, Lily, before every game.

Warm Up Song: Eye of the Tiger

What the announcers say when he scores: “Aaaaannndd Potter is wheeling tonight!!”

Sirius Black: (Padfoot, Cap, Captain)

Position: Center, First Line

Number: 12

Years In The League: 6—First pick overall, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 24. 6’3”. Black hair, gray eyes, white. Hair gets really fluffy in humidity and it drives him insane. Short hair, curls above his ears. Loves a good backwards hat. One of the strongest on the team.

Nationality: French-Canadian. Hometown: Montreal, Canada.

S/O: Remus Lupin—secret.

Closest to on the team: James Potter and Adam Fox and William LeBlanc

Rooms With: No One

Sits with on the bus/plane: James Potter

Lives With: No one

Injury: Badly broken ankle, one mild concussion

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He had a very hard time coming up with one, so James chose one for him. He pretends to hate the rookies, but will drop literally everything for anything they need. He’s also really bad at taking his pre-game nap.

(Pascal Dumais from the background: “He does not understand household chores!” “Shut up, Dumo!”)

Favorite Moment On Team: His first game after deciding to stand up to his mother about getting a trade. He could finally relax, and enjoy himself. When he scored the first goal, he let his teammates celebrate with him.

Superstition: There are so many. There are too many. Has to go out onto the ice last, has to have a butter and honey toasted sandwich before the game at 5:00 pm, has to do his stretches in a certain order, has to put on and sharpen his left skate first. Cannot even talk about the Cup without freaking out. Will wear the same gross hat until it literally reeks if they’re on a hot streak.

Warm Up Song: Doesn’t really have one.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Seriously!!! That is one serious goal!!” “That Black back-hander will kill a fella!”

Finn O’Hara: (Harzy, Fish)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 17

Years In The League: 3. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 23. 6’0’’. Dark red hair, luscious and fluffy. White. Wavy. Light freckles. Brown eyes. Is a single eyebrow raiser. Habit of saluting. More on the slender side of muscle. Is a bit of a worry-wart. Super sarcastic.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New York, New York.

S/O: June Calder—sort of.

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Leo Knut and Olli Halla

Rooms With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Leo Knut

Injury: Two bad concussions in college.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He wanted it to be that he’s real fucking good in bed, but it’s that he likes eating grilled cheese with strawberry jam because his older brother, Alexander, used to make it for him all the time when they were kids.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably that one team dinner where Blizzard got drunk and tried to swim in a fountain. Or when he found out that Logan also got drafted to the Lions the year after him.

Superstition: Has to have a grilled cheese and strawberry jam before every game. Has to tape his own sticks on the bench. Has a handshake with Logan they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani

What the announcers say when he scores: “OOOOOOOO’HARA HOW DARA!! WHAT A GOAL!”

Timmy Jones: (Timmers)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 62

Years In The League: 10. Went to Boston University

Previous Teams: New York Islanders

Description: 31. 6’1”. Black hair, braided, reaches his shoulders and he likes to tie it up sometimes, hazel eyes. Black. One of the most popular jerseys because he’s such a crowd pleaser always riling them up and talking to fans through the glass. He’s also one of the biggest Instagram users and is always posting really funny locker room videos.

Nationality: Canadian. Vancouver, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Olli Halla and William LeBlanc and Thomas Walker

Rooms With: Finn O’Hara

Lives With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Olli Halla

Injury: Fractured foot a few years ago.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kasey’s rival for best hair in the league. Famous for his crazy cellys

Favorite Moment On Team: Conference Finals! And when all the boys touch Moody’s leg for good luck.

Superstition: Has a lucky towel that no one is allowed to wash.

Warm Up Song: Where are Ü Now, Jack Ü, Skrillex, Justin Bieber

What the announcers say when he scores: Timmers strikes again!!

Olli Halla: (Olli)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 5

Years In The League: 10, Undrafted.

Previous Teams: Winnipeg Jets.

Description: 6’2”. 32. Very, very blonde hair, nearly white. Pale blue eyes. Cute little nose. Cannot grow a beard to save his life. Total baby-face. Is sort of shy and awkward. What a sweetheart.

Nationality: Finish. Hometown: Helsinki, Finland.

S/O: Single.

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Elias Cook

Lives With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Timmy Jones

Injury: Concussion, twice. A few bruised ribs.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wins the pre-game team kick-around almost every time. Brings awareness to charities that contribute to doing research on the brain and brain injuries.

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team welcomed him back from his pretty serious concussion (he missed nearly a year) by all wearing the number 5 out on the ice during warm ups.

Superstition: Wears his cross and says a small prayer after the national anthem. Also has to play in the kick-around.

Warm Up Song: Replay, Iyaz

What the announcers say when he scores: (G)oooooolllliiiii!

Brady Smith: (Smitty)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 92

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Washington Capitals

Description: 28, 6’3”. Black hair, blue eyes. Black. The sweetest person you will ever meet in your life. Is adored by all of the hockey wives and girlfriends. Can speak Spanish and (ofc) German. Has a tattoo he has on his back shoulder blade of the Stanley Cup which he won with the Washington Capitals. The cup says his wife and two kid’s names on it with room for more—this man loves his babies.

Nationality: German. Hometown: Berlin, Germany, where his mother is from, but moved to the Boston, MA when he was 15 years old—where his father is from.

S/O: Married to his wife Allison, and they’re expecting their third child. Their first is a boy named Max, their second a boy named Noah.

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Jackson Nadeau.

Lives With: His family

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evan Kane

Rooms With: Evan Kane

Injury: Frequently separates his shoulder :(

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He’s part of the Lions’ power play. Is actually a really good tattoo artist and has inked Kris Lavolie and Evgeni Kuznetsov. He gave Kris the date of his daughter’s birth, and he gave Evgeni a tiger on his left bicep.

Favorite Moment On Team: He really loved when Sirius became Captain. He felt a shift in their team’s drive.

Superstition: Has to read the note his son wrote him a few years ago.

Warm Up Song: Anything Drake

What the announcers say when he scores: Braaaddyyy Smith! What a goal!

Pascal Dumais: (Dumo)

Position: Center

Number: 9

Years In The League: 24, drafted first overall.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers, Colorado Avalanche.

Description: 41. 6’1’’. Brown hair, cut pretty short but brushes up at the front or superman curl. White. Hazel/green eyes, dark eyelashes and brows. Scruffy beard always. Is the dad of the team. Well tell anyone who asks the hilarious stories of when Sirius lived with him.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Montreal.

S/O: Celeste Dumais, wife. And four children. Adele (13), Louis (10), Marc (9), and Katie (7).

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Sergei Ivanov.

Lives With: His wife and four kids—and Logan of course.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: No one, he enjoys the peace and quiet (not that anyone gives him any)

Injury: Broken wrist. Bruised ribs. Mild concussion. Lost too many teeth to count.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: The BIGGEST prankster on the team. Loves fine wine.

Favorite Moment On Team: Whenever the crowd chants “Duuummmooooo,” or the first time Sirius smiled.

Superstition: Slaps Sergei’s ass before they walk down the tunnel. No one knows why.

Warm Up Song: Eight Days A Week by The Beatles

What the announcers say when he scores: "Pascal Dumais everybody! One of the oldest in the league—he’s still got it!”

Logan Tremblay: (Tremzy, [Finn: Lo])

Position: Right Wing

Number: 10

Years In The League: 2. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 22. 5’9’’. Dark brown hair, long enough to be wavy and always wearing a snapback. Green eyes. Light freckles. White. Always sinfully tan. Really broad and strong. Those arms and chest muscles damn. Really dark, long eyelashes. Clean shaven. Really loud, always mildly grumpy. Flirts with EVERYTHING.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Rimouski, Quebec, Canada.

S/O: Single…..

Closest to on the team: Leo Knut, Finn O’Hara, and Pascal Dumais, Thomas Walker.

Lives With: Pascal Dumais

Rooms With: Leo Knut

Sits with on the bus/plane: Leo Knut

Injury: He broke a finger and a foot and frequently has black eyes from fights.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a fleur-de-lis necklace that he never takes off. Spends his summers in Nice, France where his mother is from. Bites his nails.

Favorite Moment On Team: Playing with Finn again.

Superstition: Says he isn’t superstitious but he is. Won’t touch the kick-around soccer ball before he decides to play. Has a handshake with Finn they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Whatever It Takes, Imagine Dragons.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Scooorree!!! Oh, the tremble before Tremblay!”

Thomas Walker: (Talker, Walkie-Talkie)

Position: Defenseman —also an enforcer.

Number: 43

Years In The League: 8. University of Wisconsin.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 30, 6’2”. Short hair, brown eyes, one of the most ripped guys on the team. Black. Pierced ears, usually small gold hoops. Takes them out for play. The Lions organization does a segment with him called Walkie-Talkie where he goes around the locker room and interviews his team mates with funny questions.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Chicago, IL.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Adam Fox and Logan Tremblay.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Adam Fox.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Anyone who wants to CHAT.

Injury: Broken foot, some broken fingers.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He got his nickname Talker because he never shuts up on the ice. Starts a lot of fights.

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Needs to take a three minute nap between periods. He puts a towel over his head right in his stall and literally falls asleep for three minutes. (James: it’s fucking weird”)

Warm Up Song: Top hits, just needs the background noise.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Goal!!! He just walks right up there, don’t he?”

Sergei Ivanov: (Vans)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 55

Years In The League: 23, Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: Pittsburgh Penguins, Colorado Avalanche, Vegas Golden Knights.

Description: 40. 5’11”. Light brown-gray hair—was blonde, losing it at the front a little. White. Really stern blue eyes that transform and crinkle when he smiles (but it’s hard to get a real smile out of him, and the boys feel really accomplished when they do).

Nationality: Russian. Hometown: Omsk.

S/O: Anya. They have three daughters: Aleandra (10), Evenlina (8), and Katya (7).

Closest to on the team: Kris Lavolie and Pascal Dumais and James Potter

Lives With: His wife and children.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kris Lavolie.

Injury: Shoulder injury

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves classical music

Favorite Moment On Team: One of his daughters was born the same night he got his first hat-trick. Some of the team came to the hospital with him.

Superstition: Stops at a Church on his way to the rink everyday for a few quiet moments.

Warm Up Song: He doesn’t have one, he prefers to talk to everyone instead.

What the announcers say when he scores: SERGEI SCORES!

Jackson Nadeau: (Nado)

Position: Left Wing

Number: 58

Years In The League: 8. Went to College but didn’t finish.

Previous Teams: Chicago Blackhawks

Description: 26, 6’0”. Dark brown hair, chin length and straight, blue eyes. White. Is very laid back and a big flirt. Has cheek bones that could kill and a very stark scar running down one of them from a skate in the face.

Nationality: French Canadian. Victoria, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Brady Smith

Lives With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Rooms With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Injury: Skate to the face, other minor things.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Rival with Evgeni for most pick ups on the team. Has many tattoos—one full sleeve, working on the other.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably when Evgeni got traded, he found his best friend.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Evgeni.

Warm Up Song: He won’t tell you up front but Hamilton.

What the announcers say when he scores: Rapidly repeating “Nadeau, Nadeau, Nadeau!!!”

Evgeni Kuznetsov: (Kuny)

Position: Center. Enforcer.

Number: 86

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Anaheim Ducks, Calgary Flames, Buffalo Sabres.

Description: 27. 6’4”. Short cropped light brown hair and puppy-dog brown eyes. Has a slightly chipped front left tooth. White. Very heavy Russian accent, doesn’t speak perfect English and uses this fact to get out of interviews. Is very charming. Literally a giant.

Nationality: Russian. Magnitogorsk, Russia.

S/O: Single and ready to mingle—or already does mingle. Excessively.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Jackson Nadeau

Lives With: Jackson Nadeau

Rooms With: Jackson Nadeau

Sits with on the bus/plane: Jackson Nadeau

Injury: Had to have knee surgery.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will tell you he has the most pick-ups on the team, but it might be Nado. He’s always making jokes in Russian that basically only Sergei and Henrik can understand and Sergei just rolls his eyes while Henrik laughs.

Favorite Moment On Team: He loves team dinners, just hanging out with the guys.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Jackson.

Warm Up Song: BLASTS Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: THE RUSSIAN BEAR STRIKES AGAIN!

Evan Kane: (Kaner)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 51

Years In The League: Two. Went to College at Boston University.

Previous Teams: Calgary Flames.

Description: 23. 5’11”. Tan skin with freckles and brown eyes, black, short hair. Hispanic. Super strong and holds lots of team workout records. The brightest smile. Eyebrows on point. Loves to read, was an English major at school.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: His girlfriend, Caroline Hall.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Elias Cook, and Leo Knut

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Brady Smith

Sits with on the bus/plane: Brady Smith

Injury: Nothing major up to date.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wicked fast. One of the fastest in the League.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably meeting Pascal Dumais. He’s looked up to his playing style for a long time.

Superstition: Tapes his own sticks, sharpens his own skates.

Warm Up Song: Eminem

What the announcers say when he scores: “Yes he Kane!!!”

Adam Fox: (Foxy, Sexy)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 32.

Years In The League: 19. Drafted.

Previous Teams: New York Islanders.

Description: 36. 6’2”. White. Light brown hair that pushes up at the front and is shaved close at the sides. Blue eyes that will kill you.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: Girlfriend, Lucìa Perez.

Closest to on the team: Thomas Walker and Sirius Black

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Thomas Walker

Sits with on the bus/plane: Elias Cook

Injury: Nothing too serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Is constantly made fun of for being the prettiest. Ever.

Favorite Moment On Team: Bringing his girlfriend to her first game.

Superstition: Stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: They boys will tell you it’s SexyBack but it’s actually just heavy metal.

What the announcers say when he scores: “A foxy goal!!”

Henrik Sunqvist: (Sunny, Sunshine)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 33

Years In The League: 10. Played in the Swedish league for a while.

Previous Teams: None in the NHL.

Description: 39. 5’11”. Blond hair, cut short, pale blue eyes, white. Warmest smile you’ve ever seen.

Nationality: Swedish. Hometown: Uppsala.

S/O: Linnea Sunqvist, his wife and their daughter and son, Maja (10) and Hugo (11).

Closest to on the team: Evander Bell

Lives With: His wife and family.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone with a nice audiobook sometimes.

Injury: Nothing major, a few minor concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Almost never fights, but when he does…ouch. Can speak French and Russian.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he gets to morning practice and has coffee with the boys.

Superstition: Has to do a few somersaults in the locker room—we don’t know why.

Warm Up Song: Russian rap—no one knows why/how he knows Russian so well.

What the announcers say when he scores: “The sun is shining on Sunqvist!"

Elias Cook: (Cookie, Crock-pot)

Position: Left Wing

Number: 29

Years In The League: 7. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Toronto Maple Leafs

Description: 25. 5’11”. Hazel eyes, Black hair, baby curls so cute we love the curls.

Nationality: Canadian. Toronto.

S/O: Fiancee, Jamie Barrow.

Closest to on the team: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Jamie.

Rooms With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Adam Fox

Injury:

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves spicy food. Once made Sirius cry by daring him to eat some really spicy dish.

Favorite Moment On Team: Listening to ABBA in the locker room.

Superstition: Does a few laps around the hallways. The press love to try to catch him for interviews while he’s doing this.

Warm Up Song: iSpy, KYLE and Lil Yachty

What the announcers say when he scores: “The stove is HOT for Cook tonight!”

William LeBlanc: (Bluey)

Position: Center

Number: 44

Years In The League: 3. Drafted.

Previous Teams: SKA Saint Petersburg.

Description: 24 6′1″. Brown hair, wavy, green eyes. White. Goes to Russia during his summers.

Nationality: French Canadian. Sherbrooke.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Tyler Wright, Sirius Black.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Kris Lavolie

Sits with on the bus/plane: Tyler Wright

Injury: Concussion.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Never learned Russian well, despite playing in the KHL.

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Has to touch all the boys’ names above their stalls

Warm Up Song: Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: LeGOALLLLL

Evander Bell: (Ringer)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 21

Years In The League: 15. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Bruins, Red Wings.

Description: 33. 6’3”. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes. White. Pretty shy, but really kind. Laughs really loudly which then makes himself blush.

Nationality: American. Hometown: L.A.

S/O: His fiancee, Emily.

Closest to on the team: Henrik Sunqvist

Lives With: Emily and his son, Xavier.

Rooms With: None

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone, besides joining the card game.

Injury: Broken wrist.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Can play the guitar and the piano. Is one of the team’s biggest You Can Play ambassadors (Pascal and Sergei are the other two most active). Always goes to the Gryffindor pride parade.

Favorite Moment On Team: The entire locker room singing We Are Never Getting Back Together. Beginning to see hearts on the glass at the team’s You Can Play Night.

Superstition: Wears the same hat and socks.

Warm Up Song: Taylor Swift.

What the announcers say when he scores: “A dead Ringer from Evander Bell!”

Kris Lavolie: (Volley)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 11

Years In The League: 3. Went to University of Michigan.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 24, 6’1”. Dark hair that’s straight and falls to about his chin, brown eyes. White. Broadly built. Kind and a really good listener.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Quebec City.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Sergei Ivanov

Lives With: His daughter, Aveline.

Rooms With: William LeBlanc

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sergei Ivanov

Injury: Broken rib.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kris is a single dad. One of his best friends, Lee, she takes care of his baby girl who is four now while he’s on the road. Sometimes she gets to go stay with Sergei’s family, too. Sergei helps him so much, and he’s thankful for him <3. His daughter’s name is Aveline and he will do ANYTHING for her.

Favorite Moment On Team: Taking his daughter to the Lions’ family skate for the first time.

Superstition: Talk to/call his daughter before every game.

Warm Up Song: XO, Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he scores: “La gooaaaaallll by Lavolie!!”

Tyler Wright: (Wrangler)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 8

Years In The League:

Previous Teams:

Description: 27. 6’2”. Hair that is shoulder length, really dark brown. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Has a bit of a temper on the ice, but is a sweetheart otherwise. Ironically doesn’t like fighting.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Minnesota, Minneapolis.

S/O: His girlfriend, Elsa, who lives in Sweden and is a professional football/soccer player.

Closest to on the team: William LeBlanc

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: William LeBlanc

Injury: Nothing serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has four dachshunds named Puck, Deke, Gordie, and Stanley.

Favorite Moment On Team: Like many, when Kasey jumped into that fountain. “It was just so fuckin’ out of character, you know?”

Superstition: Has to participate in the kick around, and has to kick the ball last with his right foot.

Warm Up Song: Royals, Lorde.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Wright in the net!”

Kasey Winter: (Kase, Blizzard)

Position: Goalie

Number: 30

Years In The League: 8 years. Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers.

Description: 26. 6’2’’. Light brown hair down to his shoulders. Known for being the most beautiful hair in the league. Softest brown eyes that psych shooters out. Grows a really gorgeous beard whenever the fuck he wants.

Nationality: Canadian. Home town: Ontario, Canada.

S/O: Girlfriend, Natalie Darcy

Closest to on the team: Elias Cook and Kris Lavolie

Lives With: His girlfriend, Natalie.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Finn O’Hara

Injury: Torn hamstring.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will have his girlfriend braid his hair for practice sometimes. (“You can say what you want, but keeps it out of my face. Good old boxer braids. It’s where it’s at.”)

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team got to the Conference Finals seven years ago.

Superstition: Has to do stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: Wasabi by Little Mix (Thanks, Natalie)

What the announcers say when he makes a safe: “The Blizzard is blinding!” “It’s a squall!”

Leo Knut: (Nut, Knutty, Peanut, Peanut-butter)

Position: Goalie

Number: 1

Years In The League: His rookie season, so almost one. No college.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 18. 6’3’’. Dark blond Hair, pretty wavy and falls over his forehead. Blue eyes. Button nose. Blond eyelashes. Cannot grow a beard to save his life.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana.

S/O: None….;)

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Finn O’Hara and Evan Kane

Lives With: Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Logan Tremblay

Sits with on the bus/plane: Logan Tremblay

Injury: Nothing major.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a small gray-streaked patch of hair by the front of his head from hitting his head really hard when he was little.

Favorite Moment On Team: Well, the first moment he felt most at home was when the rest of the boys started imitating his accent. Logan is the worst at it, but he does it the most.

Superstition: Not very superstitious…yet.

Warm Up Song: Violet, Bad Suns and Love On Top by Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he saves a puck: “Another nuts save for Knut!” “We’re nuts about Knut!” “Right in the nuts!”

#sweater weather #sweater weather player roster #hockey!au #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar au #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove oc #Harry Potter fic #Harry Potter au #writing

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dansantat · 4 years ago

Photo

NOW WE ARE TWO: A Eulogy for My Father

Adam U Santat (October 21,1943 - April 27, 2021)

Today is April 27, 2021.

When I was very young and we lived in New Jersey my father took us to the beach and he lifted my tiny frame over his neck and we walked out into the ocean together. My mother watched us from the coast as we wandered 50 yards into the shallow sea. I was terrified of whatever lurked in the water convinced that sharks would come and eat us. My father gripped my legs and whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

I don’t exactly know why this particular memory rests so clearly in my mind, but it’s a good one. That was my father in a nutshell.

I interviewed my parents for a memoir I’m currently working on. This is what I know of my father.

He was born in the small village of Khlong Dan, Thailand on October 21, 1943, though the official birth certificate indicates October 27 because of a typo (21 sounds like 27 in Thai) He was the youngest of nine kids. His parents immigrated from China and started a merchant business. For fear of being racially ostracized by the local Thai people the oldest brother changed their name from “Lim” to “Santativongchai” (he found the word in an old book)

They collected rain water off the storm gutters in order to drink. He didn’t get hie first pair of shoes until he was 10 years old. They were sandals, really. Knowing facts abut Western culture was cool and he had an insatiable desire to learn everything he could about America. Coming to the United States was a dream of his obsessed with Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, and movies like “Shane” He admits to being spoiled by his mother and says he was lazy during most of his childhood, but was gifted in math and science. And he truly was. He attended medical school, paid for by his older sister, Yawanit, and he came to Newark, New Jersey in 1969 to do his internship.

My mother followed a year later

His first car was a Red ‘69 Camaro. No air conditioning. He ran the car into the ground because he was unaware of the fact that you had to change the oil. He never owned a car before then.

This was the American dream.

I was born in 1975 and they soon made a mass exodus to Southern California along with many of their Thai doctor friends with brief career stops in Wykoff, New Jersey and Hopedale, Illinois until we settled in our newly built four bedroom home in Camarillo, CA.

He worked for the state of California as a pediatrician, and eventually as a cardiologist, and then a psychiatrist continuing his education over the years to fill the needs of the state. He was an accomplished man in his field.

He loved golf, tennis, and buying things he would see on TV. He loved Ralph Lauren clothing, he owned one of the first Apple computers, and he loved making weekly trips to Los Angeles to buy classical CDs and audio equipment.

Three weeks ago I stepped inside my parent’s home for the first time in over a year. The COVID-19 Pandemic had kept us apart . “Stay at home. We’ll see each other after this is all over.” my parents told me.

Under normal circumstances I would happily avoid their company for fear of constant nagging about a plethora of reasons which mostly dealt with my weight, or my political views.

But this was different.

My father had been diagnosed with Stage 4 liver cancer and he returned home to hospice care. My mother was helping him get situated on his favorite couch because he refused to use the hospital bed that hospice had offered him and recommend that he use.

They say that doctors make the worst patients.

Besides his stubbornness my mother was angry at him for not putting up a fight, turning down Chemotherapy and Immunotherapy and opting to just let the cancer take him. She herself having been a breast cancer survivor over 25 years ago (along with living with lupus for 45 years) could not comprehend the thought of just giving up. But my father knew the odds. He had taken one look at the CT scan and he knew the primary source was in the liver and it has metastasized to the lungs, his jaw, and his pelvis.

His body was dying but his mind was still as sharp as a tack.

I understood the diagnosis, as well. When speaking to the doctor on the phone he did not mince words by emphasizing quality of life. My father’s days were limited, and I was there to make the most of the time that was left between us before he departed.

“I have one last question for you before I go.” he said to me.

“Anything. What’s your question, Dad?”

“How much....do you earn annually?”

My mother and I quickly glanced at each other and we both immediately let out a huge laugh. “HA HA HA! You have one last question and that’s what you want to ask me?!”

He was always curious about my finances.

He is my Asian father.

Normally, this type of question would be a point of heated contention and it would typically result in an argument at a restaurant, and yet, here he is living his last weeks and he STILL wouldn’t let the question go. And this time, without argument, I simply tell him.

Why deny a dying man his last wish?

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” he shouts as we all share in a good laugh.

“I have one more question...”

“What is it, Dad?”

“Why do you always get upset when I ask you that question?”

This too would have normally resulted in a heated discussion, but I simply gave him an honest and simple answer, “Because you taught me that it was rude to ask people that question.” And I left it at that.

My mother gets up and heads to the kitchen and it’s in this moment that my father pulls me in closer to discuss more pressing matters.

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve accepted my fate and I’ve lived a good life. I’m worried about your mom. I want you to take care of her after I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve saved up a lot of money. Use it to buy a house with a guest house for her. Make sure it has a big yard so she can do her gardening and she’ll be fine.”

“I promise, Dad. I’ll spoil her.”

“Good.”

My mother returns to the family room with an assortment of shirts for my father to wear. I grab a blue button up collared shirt from Tommy Bahama. “This shirt actually isn’t too shabby.”

“It was originally $125 and I got it for $90!”

Always in pursuit of looking his best while also landing a great deal.

He is my Asian father.

“If you like the shirts they’re yours now. All of this is yours.”

None of the items that my father owned interested me. What interested me was giving him one last amazing experience before he was gone. The one thing my father truly treasured among all his possessions was a one of the finest wine collections I had ever seen. It contained over 500 bottles of wines he had collected over the course of twenty years housed in three separate wine refrigerators, which were spread throughout different rooms in the house and sent their electricity bill skyrocketing to the moon, and my mother’s nerves to the very edge of insanity.

“Hey, what do you think about going into your wine collection and we drink the most expensive wine you have?”

“No,” he says hesitantly.

“But don’t you want to know what you bought? Don’t you want to at least know what the best wine you own tastes like? I don’t think you should leave this world without enjoying your one great vice in life.”

My father looks away from me and mutters, “No...It’s yours now. All of it.”

This is not how I want it to end. I want him to have one last good memory.

My mother interrupts, “I’m hungry. What are we having for lunch?”

I try to keep my father focused on his bucket list. I’m hoping for just one last memory, “Whatever you want, Dad. My treat.”

He looks at me and says, “I want a Pink’s hot dog.”

My mother and I look at each other in shock. This request from a man who was obsessed with his blood pressure. A man who constantly avoided salt like it was Kryptonite to Superman was now requesting for one of the saltiest most nitrate rich foods in America.

“With mustard and relish.”

25 minutes later I returned home with three sodium bombs per his request. My father, who hadn’t eaten in three days, grabbed a hold of his hot dog, and ate the entire thing. My father, a man who did everything in his power to stave off death by cardiovascular disease to the point of obsession, was indulging in the one thing he avoided like the plague.

SALT.

As I sat on the couch and watched him eat his hot dog I could see the look on his face as he solemnly took each bite thinking, “What was the point of being so scared for all these years?” I took solace in the fact that for the first time in my life, I saw him as a person unafraid.

Later that day, a few of his closest friends came over to wish him well. I met them at the front door, “Hey, do me a favor. Can you see if you can make him agree to having one last glass of wine?”

It was a good idea.

HIs friends all walked in, paid their respects, and then peppered him with little hints like, “Hey, how about one last sip of wine before you go?”

My dad finally agreed.

“That fridge has the best stuff!” my dad shouted as he pointed to the fridge closest to the door.

I was not as knowledgable about fine wines as my dad and his friends were. That’s what Google is for.

I reached into the back of the fridge and found a bottle of Opus One from 1995.

This was $600 bottle of wine. It wasn’t his best but it it would do nicely.

The room let out an audible “oooooh” when I entered the room with the bottle.

His best wine glasses were brought out, we each poured a glass, and we toasted my father. We share stories about his life, he boasts to his friends about my accomplishments, and we are basking in a moment of complete harmony.

For this moment in time, I was his perfect Asian son.

He thoughtfully studied the peaks generated by the swirling of the wine on the edge of the glass

“It’s been a good life. No regrets.”

I was glad I could give him this.

This week I bought that house for my mom. I told my father this as I fulfilled his last dying wish while I held his hand.

“I’ve got you, Dad. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’ve got you.”

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

Note

Chromeskull becoming infatuated with the reader so he stalks her and leaves special gifts on her doorsteps. 😊

Your girl here has a habit of getting writing ideas when buying lace lingerie and high brand perfume. Yes, because I bask into a little luxury...and Chromeskull.

Here you have a piece of some big-bad-killer-skull-daddy .

Chromeskull x Reader- Dating tips from Chromeskull

You attracted weirdos, that was your own opinion about yourself and you had a huge list of examples to attest to this said theory.

First, it was a guy in high-school who used to have a stash of playboy magazines. Nothing weird, only that he used to keep it in his backpack all the time with him. You even heard he masturbated in the school toilet. Gross. Just no.

Then there was a guy named Darwin that gave you love letters, only said love letters were always theories about how you resembled cartoon characters, not to mention the guy had a habit of spitting all the time when he talked.

Last, now in college, a pervert who always smelled of cheese and was a vegan. No, you weren't judgemental, but he always eats with his hands and tried to show his theories about eating meat is evil down your throat. You had enough to say the last.

Dating has never been your top game and being in college, you hoped you would find a decent guy, but your expectations weren't meet. Guys who were decent enough always scrambled away once they found out you weren't a dizzy bimbo who only giggled at every comment they made.

This is how you ended up on a Friday night at home, drinking some wine and watching serial killers documentaries, while your classmates were probably at a party, snorting cocaine and fucking into dirty bathroom stalls.

Yeah...Not exactly something you would look forward too.

Now, you weren't a prude, but giving head to a guy in a place that had probably STD all over the walls wasn't exactly appealing to say the last.

If only you could find a decent guy that would, at last, have the decency to wash before going on a date and who wouldn't choke on his own spit when laughing.

You were ready to get yourself a refill of wine when your doorbell rang, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

You sure weren't expecting anyone, but knowing some of your friends they sure would stumble to your house when drunk because they couldn't find their cellphones or keys.

Putting on your fluffy bunny slippers, you marched up to the front door and looked through the hole to see who it was. You learned from murderous documentaries that you shouldn't open the door at night if you don't know who it is.

None.

So, you opened it, looking from left to right to see if you could spot anyone, but no such luck. Probably some children messing around.

You were ready to close the door when your eyes looked down to see a white envelope on the welcome matt. Crouching down you grasped it and looked one more time left to right, hoping to spot the person who left it.

The silence of the night and chilly September night made you shiver a little, so you moved back inside to the couch and opened the envelope to see it was a letter, so you started reading it:

My dear little piggy,

Ever since the first time I meet you, I must say I always wondered how you would look in red, dripping down your body, your kissable lips into an 'o' shape, your nails dragging down my back as your flesh envelopes my knife.

Aren't you scared, so alone?

Your eyes widened at the twisted words on the white sheet, and the fact that the only sign at the bottom of the letter was a scribbled skull made it all the more unnerving.

That's the moment when you felt like you were being watched, your paranoid mind making you feel anxious.

If only you looked out the window you would see the ominous and out of the scenario black Bentley on the other side of the road.

In the past three months, things haven't been any decreasing either, because from twisted letters it all went to gifts if you could even call them that. Yes, they were gifts, but what made them unsettling was how the coincidence went.

You went out shopping one day and saw your favorite perfume, but didn't have the money to buy it. Imagine the surprise that after two days a velvet pink box sat in front of your door with the expensive perfume.

Then one time you saw a beautiful dress from Chanel that you were oh so tempted to buy, but rent and food were more important, then later that night you received it and it was your size. That was just disturbing.

This continued for months and from anxious to went to curious and intrigued. It was insane, but none in your life put so much thought in spoiling you, despite not knowing who this person is.

To put it simply you were basked into luxurious gifts and cards for shopping.

You felt special.

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

It came to no surprise that Chromeskull was always chasing piggies, but this time it was you that he was chasing after; not the usual slaughtering piggy way, but more like spoiling a little kitten who was you.

It was pretty comic to see a 40-year-old man chasing after a girl that has half his age, but what can you say? Jesse has always liked them young and fresh, no wonder he gave off big-bad-killer-daddy vibes.

He loved to see your appreciation for his gifts and attention towards you, despite it not being direct, but his self-consciousness after he lost his face made it almost impossible to get woman willingly.

Paying piggies to suck him off didn't count.

He wanted someone who was willing to go full length into a relationship with him, someone who he could have a good time, from conversations to mind-blowing sex.

That's why he chose you.

It all started with an unpredictable meeting.

Yes, you have meet Jesse, but you didn't know it.

How?

You were shopping and because you were in such a hurry to catch the bus, you run into him while you looked down at your phone, your head meeting his chest.

The way you looked up at him at that time almost made him want to stop you. Your wide eyes, not of fear or disgust, maybe it was surprising because he knew very well how a displeased face looks like, your pouty lips and slightly pink cheeks of embarrassment were so appealing.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir!"

That was the only thing you said before sprinting away and that was also the moment when he knew he wanted you and what Jesse Cromeans wants, he gets.

In the past months, he made sure you weren't lacking in anything and he was even more so pleased when you accepted all the gifts, seeing you wear the clothes he gave you made him feel like he owned you.

Normally, Jesse was the ever so most confident person you could meet, but now he felt like his shy teenage self, looking at you from a few feet away as you were grocery shopping.

He wanted to approach you. Badly, but how could he? His face and his muteness didn't help.

You were at the liquor part, looking over bottles with furrowed brows, not knowing what to get, until a pale hand gripped a bottle of expensive scotch from the top shelf, the forearms fully tattooed.

You looked behind you to see a tall and bald man, dressed in all black, the fully tattooed forearms been on display from how his sleeves were rolled up.

'This one is the finest scotch from here if you want to drink something more refined.' an electronic voice spoke from his phone that he held in the other hand.

You were to say so surprisedly by this man's approach.

"Oh...You're mute? I know ASL, so there's no need to type on the phone if it's easier for you." you quickly said, making the man grin.

Did you know ASL? How could he miss that? You were full of surprises.

'That's good. I hate to use the electronic reader all the time.' he signed, his grin never leaving his scarred lips.

'I'm Jesse.' he signed and you introduced yourself, shaking his bigger hand.

"I would love to try this scotch, but donating my kidney for glass doesn't sound too appealing." you said with a dry chuckle.

Dark sense of humor. Good. Check.

'How about I buy it and you go out on a date with me? Sounds like a deal?' he signed and you arched an eyebrow, a lop-sided smile on your face.

That was the moment Jesse felt nervous, despite not showing. He could already imagine you laughing at him, for thinking that a cute girl like you would go out with someone like him.

"Sure."

What? His brown eye widened a little and you giggled at his shocked expression.

"You don't have to buy me a 2,500$ bottle of scotch to go on a date with me." you said, making him silently chuckle.

'Do you want a ride?' he asked, signing and you grinned, nodding.

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

Yes, that was the start of an interesting relationship. At first, it had ups and downs because of the age-gap and the hateful comments, that made Jesse want to murder all the people that even dared to question his relationship with you.

Imagine the surprise when one time you punched one guy for calling Jesse 'old-sugar-daddy' and you 'nasty-gold-digger'.

That was another aspect of you that he learned that you had and started to love it a lot; you were a feisty little thing and protective of him.

You always took care of his ego, assuring him that he was perfect just how he is and it made Jesse's heart swell with things he almost forgot existed.

To put it simply, you completed each other....In all ways.

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

Your hair was splayed in a mess on the black silk pillows, one hand fisting the bedsheets and the other rubbing the bald scalp of your lover who had your red lace panties pulled aside and his tongue wiggling inside your heat, making your toes curl.

"Fuck.......Jesse......I-If you don't stop...I-I'm gonna squirt." you breathed out, chest heaving and nipples hard from all the pleasure that was jolting up your spine.

The man between your legs stopped, giving your clit a flick with his tongue, his body moving up on top of you, scarred lips meeting plush ones, kissing with you such vigor you sometimes couldn't keep up.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you, so perfect on his bed.

'I'm going to wreck your world.' he signed with a dark smirk and you couldn't help but smile, your hand coming to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his scars.

"Please do, Chromeskull." you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes.

Jesse grinned, pulling you into another passionate kiss, taking your breath away.

#Laid to rest 2009 #Chromeskull: Laid to rest 2 #Chromeskull #Jesse Cromeans #chromeskull x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies #SkullDaddy can throw me in a coffin any day he wants

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saipng · 4 years ago

Text

me? write a frenrey one shot fanfic with them drunkenly playing truth or dare? it’s more likely than you think

Nights like these made it all worth it.

The lulling whir of the air conditioner kissed his flushed cheeks as the sound of dying laughter dissipated through the air. The noise of the streets outside the window and the quiet chatter of the TV filled the room instead, and the smell of home cooked food mixed with old cologne and alcohol seemed to cling to his very clothes. His eyes traced the long shadows cast in red, pink, and blue, painting the familiar scene in technicolors.

It was nights like these, Gordon thought, that made it all worth it.

Joshua was long asleep in his room, snuggled next to his favorite plush toy of a head crab that Bubby (lovingly) stitched together out of old scraps of clothing. Tommy arrived first, as was usual, tagging Sunkist along and letting her carry a bottle of wine between her teeth. Dr Coomer and Bubby came later, always together, always the same chorus of ‘Hello, Gordon!’s, always a big bright smile and a warm tingle in his heart. Darnold arrived late, later than he usually would if he were to come at all, but this time he brought his ��strongest potions’ and Gordon was equal parts terrified and excited to try them out.

Benrey was already there by the time Gordon remembered him. He always simply appeared, but even that became routine at this point.

Gordon never invited any of them.

It was enough, he thought, that they would come over like this, with food and alcohol and maybe a DVD or a board game, and they would spend their time in peace and (relative) quiet. Having the company was enough.

Gordon smiled, sudden warmth spreading through his belly.

“Hey-Hey guys,”- He stuttered, trying to get up on his already slightly shaky feet, the attention of the room shifting towards him from the TV as The Science Team all turned their heads in unison.

“Woah- Um, okay. Creepy. Guys, do you wanna like- Hey guys, do you wanna play Truth or Dare?”

It wasn’t the first time they would be playing it, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Bubby, particularly competitive in, well, everything, immediately perked up.

“What, you itching to lose just like last time, you little bitch boy?”

“Okay, just because I refused to drink an entire glass of bleach doesnt mea-“

“Bitch boy!”

“Um, I would like to go first, Mr Freeman!”- Tommy piped up, having a surprising competitive streak in him too.

Truth or Dare, for most people, was a game of fun and embarrassment and messing around. For The Science Team, it was more like a battle for dominance and glory.

Most of their games were, actually. Gordon already lost 6 packs of Uno cards to fire, and Jenga is completely forbidden in his apartment for the foreseeable future. And god forbid he ever saw anyone with a box of Monopoly ever again.

Gordon took an uncertain step, steadying his feet as he raised his glass and nodded, -“Sure, Tommy. Truth or Dare?”

“Oh, and why do you get to ask,”- Bubby piped up, crossing his arms.

“Because I offered the game, alright? Now-“

“Truth or Dare, Tommy?”- Dr Coomer took over, and Tommy immediately replied with a resolute “Dare”.

“Fantastic choice, my young friend!”- The older man smiled, and then his face immediately turned to stone. Gordon swallowed, on the edge of his seat (still standing) at what might come next.

Dr Coomer was known for going to the extremes. His dares were either along the lines of “Do a chicken dance” or “Drink this glass of bleach” (which was exactly where Gordon drew the line last time). One time he dared Bubby to eat a pack of ramen raw, and the maniac actually did it.

Once Dr Coomer opened his mouth again, Gordon’s heart sank to his feet.

“I dare you to drink-“

“No! No more bleach drinking! That is banned forever, okay, it’s-“

“-An entire glass of Dr Darnold’s strongest potion!”

Gordon paused in his tracks. Suddenly, the bleach idea didn’t seem to be as bad.

He threw a quick glance at the man in question, who seemed to be perfectly beaming at the suggestion.

“Why, I do think my potions are way too strong for you, Tommy! The side effects can be unpredictable!”- He exclaimed, already reaching over the precariously shaped vial, -“Now, I will need you to have a bucket by your side and a pack of ice and maybe a pair of tweezers-“

“I will be fiiiiine,”- Tommy slurred, more determined than ever. He was not one to pass up a dare, no matter how insane it sounded. Gordon began to wonder whether he had any tweezers lying around, just in case.

In the next second, with an agility unbecoming of a man as drunk as he already was, Tommy threw back the glass and Gordon watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed at every resounding gulp. He couldn’t help his jaw clenching as the fiery burn resonated in his own throat at the sight, a shiver running down his spine, The feeling was something akin to watching a car crash, the horrifying fascination making his stomach turn when Tommy thumped the vial back on the table and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve.

He had to sit back down for this.

“go, tommyyyyyy!”- Benrey shouted from somewhere behind the couch, and for once, Gordon agreed wholeheartedly. At this point, he was pretty certain that Tommy was the most badass person he knew.

“Hoo! Yeah! Woo- Aw-Awright, z-zat- Eazy! Eazier zan... zan.....!”- Tommy blinked hard, his eyes clouded over as he tilted further and further to his right, and yeah, maybe he was going to have the worst night/morning of his life, but damn if the street cred he earned in that moment wasn’t worth it.

“Cake!- Darnold helpfully supplied, and Tommy forcefully threw himself at the man to give him a huge hug.

“Iz cake!”- He slurred from Darnold’s shoulder, waving an arm around way too close to Bubby’s face, -“Whoza next!?”

“Gordon!”- The latter smirked, slapping away Tommy’s hand and leaning further back into Coomer.

Gordon turned his head so fast his neck cracked, a slight headache immediately forming from the whiplash.

“No!? What!? No, I didn’t agree to that. Why me!?”- He began pouring himself another drink. Suddenly he was really craving some of that strongest potion.

“Because you offered the game, right?”- Bubby grinned, and Dr Coomer nodded in agreement.

“You did offer the game, Gordon.”

“I know I offered the damn- Hey, why don’t we have someone else go, huh!? Why not- Why not Benrey?”- At the mention of his name, said being popped his head up and stared directly back at Gordon, -“He, like, never participates! What’s up with that!”

And he wasn’t lying, either. For someone who consistently talked about gaming, Benrey almost never took part in their late night competitions. Gordon could never tell why – he could never, ever tell why anything with this guy – but to him this felt almost deliberate. Of course, everything Benrey did felt deliberate – that is, he was always deliberately trying to get on Gordon’s nerves.

And this time was no exception.

“huh?”- Came the simple response, and the burn in Gordon’s stomach turned to a burn in his chest.

“Yeah, you never do anything! Here we are, running around like headless chickens, doing whatever stupid shit we want each other to do, and you just sit there!”

“whu-?”

“What, you think this is like, some kinda free show for you? Some kinda performance piece!? No, nope, that won’t do, buddy. You’re gonna participate or you’re gonna get the hell out of here, alright? Truth or Dare?”

“dare”

The reply came so fast, Gordon nearly lost his footing while sitting. He blinked down at the glass in his hand, brows furrowing in concentration.

Alright, sure, cool. Maybe he didn’t expect Benrey to actually answer. And maybe he definitely didn’t expect him to choose dare. This was fine. It was fine.

Gordon poured himself another drink.

“daaaaare,”- Benrey whined at the same time as Bubby said “The man has chosen dare, Gordon, now will you please give it to him!”

“Alright, alright; don’t shout at me, I’m thinking!”

“Well, think faster!”

“It is rude to make other people wait, Gordon,”- Dr Coomer pursed his lips as Tommy may or may not have said something in agreement. He was now more than half lying on Darnold, who didn’t seem to care in the least, and his hand was absentmindedly stroking Sunkist’s back.

Knowing him, though, he most definitely was on Benrey’s side here. They all always were.

“Would you like some ideas, Dr Freeman?”- Darnold offered, and Gordon reached his boiling point.

“No! No, alright, I got it! I dare you to, uh,”- Gordon looked Benrey over, his stupid acidic gamer slogan hoodie making his retinas hurt, watched as the same hooded eyes not blink as they stared back, dull, unseeing, bored, overcast in a shadow that seemed to be permanently encasing his sharp face. And then Gordon scrunched up his nose as he said with the most vitriol possible, -“I dare you to take off you stupid beanie.”

It was but a beat of silence before Benrey, understandably this time, went, - “huh???”

“You heard me,”- Gordon doubled down this time, fully recognizing how stupid and inconsequential his dare seemed in comparison to Coomer’s, but damn if he wasn’t going to insist on it now, -“Come on. Show us what’s under there. Show us what- Show us what you’re hiding.”

Benrey blinked once. Then twice.

And then he was suddenly making his way towards the front of the room, crawling on all fours like an animal, and his gaze pointedly fixed on Gordon as he said “ohhhhh does feetman wanna- does feetman wanna see my secret parts. does feetman wanna take a glance at my uhhhh my special place”

Gordon nearly choked on his drink, a renegade laugh escaping this throat as he desperately tried not to have vodka pour out of his nose.

“What the FUCK, man, don’t call it that!?”

“what next, you gonna ask me to take my shoes off. maybe my socks? i’m gonna need to see a signed permission for that first”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”- Gordon slammed the table as he keeled over, and he could almost physically feel Bubby rolling his eyes.

“You gonna do it or what!?”- He nudged Benrey with his foot so that the other nearly toppled over.

“what, that it”

“Wh-What?”- Gordon managed in between taking deep breaths, feeling the room sway slightly from side to side. He hated how everything the guard said made him lose his shit. He especially hated it right then, when he was staring right at him with that self-confident smirk that still somehow managed to look bored. He hated it so much.

“is that all? weak”

“What, you wanna take off your shirt too? Be my guest, man, fucking- Strip down to your pants. Do it. You won’t.”

Benrey stared at him.

Gordon regretted every decision he ever made that led him up to this point.

Benrey smiled.

And then in one confident motion he ripped off his hoodie, his beanie coming along with it.

He threw them to the side, the pile of clothes landing on Sunkist, who didn’t seem to mind in the least, and this was exactly the point where Gordon realized that this was a bad, bad, horrifically bad idea.

He didn’t know what he expected to see when Benrey took off his hat (or helmet or whatever other stupid thing he was wearing at the time), didn’t really think about it (or tried not to) but damn if it wasn’t this. It was just - just hair. Completely normal hair, almost insultingly so, jet black and cropped short to his skull. But it wasn’t even the hair that was the biggest offender - no, it was the now completely open, completely normal and completely handsome face that was staring back at him. Completely human, completely right, and so disgustingly unobscured that it made Gordon’s stomach do back flips that would have scored tens all around at the Olympics.

When Benrey’s fingers twitched to remove the undershirt that he had underneath, he knew he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, okay, fuck! We- We get it! You did the dare, alright, enough! That’s just indecent exposure at this point! Chill out, man!”

Benrey didn’t reply, but didn’t move to strip down any more. Gordon allowed himself to breathe again.

He was way too drunk for this.

He poured another drink.

After an uncomfortable stretch of terrible silence where Gordon could acutely feel the burn in his face and shoulders, Dr Coomer finally spoke up with an “That was a shitty dare, Gordon!”

“Yeah, it was horribly underwhelming. Not even writhing snakes underneath that thing,”- Bubby immediately joined, and at that Tommy perked up only to mumble “badgers” and then fall back down onto Darnold, knocking them both over to the floor.

Gordon couldn’t keep in the laughter that bubbled up from his stomach, and he had to look for support if only to stay upright. At this point, he was certain that if he were to fall down, he would not get back up again.

Of course, it just so happened that this time his closest support structure was Benrey, and by the time he realized that he was grabbing onto the other’s shoulder, it was way too late. Benrey was already staring at him, a smirk stretching over his lips that, without the ever-present shadow painting over his eyes, now looked almost... Nice. Sweet.

Gordon shifted in his seat, slowly removing his hand and clearing his throat.

That’s right. Play it cool. Play it cool.

Easier said than done, though, especially considering Benrey’s skin was practically burning next to him.

Gordon pulled at his hair tie, freeing his curls if only to have something covering his face. Dammit, Freeman, play it cool!

“Alright, which of you lightweights is going to go next?”- Bubby sighed, clearly resigning to being an observer this round, rather than a participant.

“gordon,”- Came a voice directly from Gordon’s right, and he immediately opened his mouth in protest.

Only to be shut up by Bubby before saying a single word, -“If you even so much as make a single sound besides “Truth” or “Dare”, I swear to fuck I will set your curtains on fire.”

Gordon was really tempted to say “Fuck off, not again”.

Instead, he resigned to whispering, “...Truth.”

“huh? what was that? truth? does little baby want truth? does little baby want his truth bottle?”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole, that doesn’t even make sense. The game isn’t called Dare or Dare, I can choose what I want.”

“stupid shitty baby can’t even handle this truth.”

Gordon snorted, fists curling up at his sides as he inhaled sharply, turning to face the permanent annoyance of his life that was Benrey.

“Okay. Okay. You know what? Okay! You wanna dance Benrey, huh? You wanna dance? Then let’s fucking dance. It’s dare. I choose dare. Hit me.”

Benrey’s smile only widened as Gordon’s heart sank deeper and his ears tingled with a warmth that was unwelcome, but not unfamiliar. And before either one of them could make a move, there was the distinct sound of clothes shuffling, the noise of something breaking, and then Tommy was kneeling on the floor, swaying from side to side like a piece of grass in a gentle breeze, finger pointed up, eyelids half closed as he barely managed out an, “I d-daaare- I dare Miste-ww Freeemann and B-Ben- Rey- To danz!”

Having finished his incredible statement, Tommy fell onto his other side, head landing right on Sunkist, and Darnold gently patted him on the shoulder mumbling “There, there.”

Gordon could only side eye the other scientists. He would be laughing right now, really, if he wasn’t so perfectly outraged by the proposition.

“Uh, how about no? You know I love you Tommy, but if you think that even for a second-“

“chicken man.”

“...What?”

“gordon freeman more like. more like gordon fowlman.”

“Hah, that was a clever one, Benrey! Keep it up!”- Dr Coomer encouraged, and Gordon really didn’t need that in his life right now.

“I’m not afraid to dance with you, I-“

“chickon fowlman”

“Fucking stop, alright! We’re both drunk as shit, and I doubt any one of us is a good dancer, we’re probably gonna break some-“

“what, no. i’m a great dancer. i’m the best- the bestest at dance. moves. number one in just dance 2003 on the playstation 2- got an award. a diploma. what do you got. stupid chicken legs. cluck cluck cluck, i’m idiot baby, i can’t dance-“

Gordon was on his feet in seconds, the room spinning around like a freaking kaleidoscope, but he’d be damned if he let this pretty- this cute- this shitty garbage sack believe that he was better than him. Even if it was true.

At this point, he was more than drunk, he was pissed, he was warm, and he wanted to wipe that stupid smile off of Benrey’s face if it was the last goddamn thing he did. If that meant he needed to dance, then he was going to fucking dance.

“Fine, okay, sure! Let’s go, let’s fucking go, go, go! Dr Coomer, hit us with a beat!”

If it was a dance battle Benrey wanted, it was a battle he was going to g-

The soft sound of a gentle piano was definitely not what Gordon expected to come out of the- Of Dr Coomer...? He honestly wasn’t sure where Dr Coomer was producing the sound from, but that mattered less at the moment than the particular sound being produced - which certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

“What the fuck!? What is this shit?”

“Gordon, this track is As Time Goes By by the Claude Williamson Trio-“

“No, no, I don’t give- Who cares about the name of the track!? We’re not fucking slow dancing! Give us something with a beat!”

“But Gordon, I enjoy this song.“

This was yet another moment where Tommy decided to speak up, suddenly raising his hand with one finger pointing at the ceiling, his voice muffled by the perfect dog’s fur as he muttered “I- I dare Mr Freeman- and- and Benrey to- to Slow. Dance. For fiiiiiiiiiiive miiiiiinuuuuuutesssssssss.”

His hand fell back to the floor with an audible thump.

“No! Hey, no, that’s not- That’s not in the rules! You can’t just change the original dare like-“

“Oh my god, silently! Quietly! Without words! Slow dance for five fucking minutes with your mouths shut tight, okay! That’s your fucking dare!”- Bubby threw his arms up, and the reflection in his glasses told Gordon that his curtains are very much in immediate danger.

This was dumb. This was more than dumb, this was shitty, stupid, against all rules, and really, he should just kick them all out and be done with it all.

So, like any rational and sound-minded person, Gordon swallowed down the horrible tightness in his throat, and opened up his arms in an invitation.

He didn’t mean to bite his lip when Benrey approached him, really, he didn’t, but his chest refused to stop pounding, his arms felt sticky and gross, and his vision was only ever so slightly blurry when he reached out his hand and grabbed Benrey’s.

“I’ll lead,”- He barely whispered, maybe more like mouthed so that didn’t count, and Benrey did not protest for once, his other hand finding his way over to Gordon’s shoulder. Gordon hesitated only a second before lightly guiding his fingers to the other’s waist.

There was a moment of certain panic, blood freezing over as an electric current ran through his spine, sudden realization that he couldn’t remember the last time he danced with anyone flooding his senses, before being replaced with a gentle, coaxing burn when he felt Benrey pull at him and take a step backwards. Gordon swallowed hard again, allowing his drunkenness to overtake for a moment, letting himself sway ever so gently as he tried his best to guide the other around the room. This wasn’t exactly a waltz, not even close, but at least he was conscious enough not to step on any feet or trip over his own.

This was... excruciating.

He didn’t know where to look, eyes darting around the room like he was desperately looking for an escape, and his hands and hair felt altogether way too sweaty for any of this. He didn’t want to hear Benrey’s slightly exalted breathing, the firm press of his hand in Gordon’s own, the feeling of those dark, dark, immensely dark eyes staring right into his very being. Five minutes, Gordon learned by the first 30 seconds, was an outrageously long time.

It was only around the second minute mark, when Gordon was certain he was going to pass out before finishing the dance, that his vision darkened for a split second, and it wasn’t before long that a feeling of complete and utter surrender washed over him. Shoulders dropping down, muscles releasing with an almost audible click, he felt his anxiety dissipate in the air along with that unbearable, pulsating heat. The only thing left was his heavy eyelids defiantly staying open and the soft sound of the piano keys running through the air. He willed his head to turn to Benrey then, finally allowing himself to make eye contact for the first time, and the sea of gently glowing blue orbs around them nearly overwhelmed his vision.

“calm down,”- Benrey mouthed, and Gordon gladly obeyed, nodding his head ever so slightly.

His arms felt like cotton, like melting butter, so he allowed both his hands to travel to Benrey’s lower back, not able to keep them up anymore. Benrey, in turn, gently wrapped his own arms around Gordon’s neck, and Gordon couldn’t find it in him to protest.

He could find it in him to be delighted, though.

He didn’t know what it was, exactly - the alcohol, the forced silence, or the gentle blue light that filled his very soul, but he suddenly felt braver, braver than he had ever been before. But more importantly, he felt curious - and so he tugged Benrey a little closer, just that much. He knew it was but a gentle pull - no, he was certain of it. The rest of the way between their bodies Benrey closed on his own.

Gordon’s stomach ignited in fireworks, his ribs prickling with the sensation of the other flush against him, the touch of his skin intoxicating in ways he didn’t remember were possible.

And all the while, his eyes were glued to Benrey’s, almost morbidly mesmerized by the two dark caverns that refused to reflect light and seemed to only take, take, and take.

Benrey’s fingers tangled in his hair, and Gordon couldn’t help the genuine smile that easily found its home on his face, couldn’t help the breath that got stolen when he saw that same smile reflected on Benrey’s own.

His fists balled in the other’s thin shirt, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so secure.

Serene. Right.

It’s nights like these, Gordon thought, that make everything worth it.

The last note played, the orbs burned out, and the only thing left standing in the middle of it all were the two of them, still clinging one to another, breathing hard as though they have just finished an intense exercise routine, and for a brief moment, time stood still.

And Gordon felt as though something unspoken has passed between them in that one moment.

And in the next, raucous applause followed, mostly provided by Dr Coomer, with Darnold gently joining in. Bubby let out a few claps as well, and they almost didn’t sound sarcastic.

“Bravo, Gordon! What a beautiful display of emotion!”- Dr Coomer kept on clapping, wiping a tear away from one eye as he cheered, -“For 2 Play Coins, I can replay the same song again!”

“N-No- Uhm-“- Gordon began, feeling his throat as dry as a summer in a dessert, having to cough violently as he practically peeled himself from Benrey. The immediate cold and overall shittiness that followed almost weren’t worth it, -“Ahem. That’s- That’s quite alright.”

“Ah shit, there he goes on talking again,”- Bubby rolled his eyes, and the atmosphere seemed to return to normal.

Benrey went to sit next to Tommy’s most probably unconscious form, and Gordon, after hesitating for way too long, sat down on the opposite side of the room.

A decision he came to regret immediately, if the brief look Benrey gave him was anything to go by.

How that permanently bored, expressionless face could carry so much emotion, Gordon would never know.

What he did know was that he needed another goddamn drink.

And from that point on, it was a huge blur. There were more dares, of course. He was pretty sure Darnold had to do a keg stand and Coomer and Bubby had to exchange clothes.

It was all stupid.

It was all ridiculously fun.

Gordon didn’t feel right throughout any of it.

His mind only came back online closer to morning, when the only thing keeping him awake was the constant noise of conversation and sheer willpower.

“truth,”- Benrey said, crude drawings of Sunkist now decorating both his arms. Gordon wasn’t sure if this was part of a dare or if he just did that for no reason.

“You want to mix it up a little, eh? Think this will be easy, don’t you?”- Bubby’s smile was sharp, all teeth and evil intent, and Gordon suddenly was really happy he wasn’t at the receiving end of that. Bubby was the most entertaining when he was being mean to someone else.

“hit me.”

“Okay. So. Who, out of this group, do you have a crush on?”

Oh. So Gordon was on the receiving end of that after all, huh.

He didn’t know why was it, exactly, that that question hit him like a pile of bricks. But it did. And now he was anxiously staring at Benrey, heart beating so fast it threatened to break through his rib cage.

Benrey, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as panicked. He just... kept on staring at the floor. And he kept on staring. And he kept on staring until he finally blurted out an. “bbbb.... d.... coomer.”

“I am flattered, Benrey, but I am quite happily married,”- Dr Coomer replied hugging Bubby close, who only rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Bullshit! It’s called Truth, now say the goddamn truth!”

It was at this moment that Benrey’s eye met Gordon’s.

It was at this moment that Gordon knew precisely what to do.

In a move that probably required him to be way more sober, he kicked the table so hard that half the glasses and bottles on top of it tumbled over, some rolling to the floor and breaking with a resounding crash.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”- Bubby exclaimed, throwing his feet up on the couch, and even Tommy came back to life for a second to look around, before passing back out on Sunkist again.

“Careful, Dr Freeman! These babies can melt through concrete!”- Darnold immediately busying himself with picking up his vials, and Gordon took this moment to stand up, exaggerating his slur and wobbliness (though not by much) when he said, -“Woo... Huh... Sorry- Sorry, guys, I must have- Man, I’m dying, I think I- I need sleep, guys, I-“

“Yes, yes, we get the message,”- Bubby sighed, as Dr Coomer immediately laid straight down on the couch, forcibly pulling him down as well, -“Goodnight, Gordon.”

“Good night, Gordon!”- Coomer echoed, closing his eyes and passing out within seconds.

“Take care, Dr Freeman,”- Darnold nodded, before snuggling up next to Sunkist and Tommy.

Well, that was easy. If there was one thing about The Science Team that Gordon appreciated most of all, it was how they didn’t bother asking questions. It was better that way, really.

He should be a better host and at the very least get them blankets, Gordon thought, carefully avoiding the broken glass as he made his way across the room.

This was a problem for tomorrow’s Gordon.

Now, however, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Benrey stood up as Gordon approached him, staring silently, before turning around and abruptly making his way to the entrance.

“Wa- Wait- Benrey, wait!”- This time it wasn’t an exaggeration when Gordon nearly tripped over his own feet. His head was throbbing with a headache unlike any other, but he shut that part up for a brief second. More important matters, -“Where the hell are you going!?”

“away?”- Benrey replied as though that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But- Wait- I mean. Why? You can stay here? I’m not kicking you out?”

He stared. And then he stared some more.

It was true that Benrey usually disappeared before morning came, like some sort of vampire that could only come out at night. Gordon never questioned it, never bothered to ask him why he left – it didn’t matter that his apartment always felt a little emptier.

It didn’t matter before, but it mattered now.

“I mean- I know there’s not a lot of room, and the guys are all over the living room, but, y’know, my bed is a double, so if you wanna, you can-“

“i don’t sleep”

Gordon blinked down, the ramble in his head and his words interrupted by this simple poignant statement. He tilted his head, desperately trying to keep standing upright.

“What? Like, at all? That’s bullshit man, that’s complete- and I- I saw you, okay, I saw you sleeping in-“

“kind of gay of you. watching me sleep. wanna see my hair then. then taking my shirt off then. then dancing with me like-“

“Shhh- Shut up, shut up!”- Gordon hissed, taking Benrey by the hand and quietly leading him back to the bedroom. There was no way he would be able to handle this conversation standing up, -“This isn’t- It’s not like that, okay, it’s-“

“It’s not?”

It wasn’t often that Gordon was able to tell what Benrey was thinking or feeling at any given moment. In this instance, however, the disappointment in his voice was so palpable that he could almost taste it on his tongue.

“N-No! Wait, I mean- Yes? I mean- I- I don’t fucking knoooow, man,”- He sighed, dropping down on the bed, head immediately spinning like the propellers of a helicopter, heart drumming, jaw aching, -“I just- I’m too drunk, Benrey. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t- I just know I don’t want you to leave.”

He didn’t know if that was enough. It didn’t sound enough to him.

But to Benrey, apparently, it was.

In a moment the space besides Gordon felt the bed beside him dip, that already familiar heat seeping through his skin like nuclear radiation, overwhelming him whole.

He felt himself magnetized, moving closer to it almost unconsciously, keeping his eyes closed to prevent the room from spinning crazy. His hand worked of their own volition, desperately searching for anything to hold, and when he felt a set of fingers interlace with his own, he allowed himself to exhale all the tension in his shoulders.

“Thanks,”- He whispered, snuggling in closer, inhaling a scent that was near acidic, but not unpleasant. He didn’t know how he would justify this to himself tomorrow, didn’t want to think about that just yet, and he heard a stream of sweet voice being spread around the room.

He opened his eyes just for a second, just a brief moment to register the vibrant pink floating around his bedroom, the gentle glow that outlined Benrey’s hooded eyes, and for once he thought he could recognize something in them.

Gordon exhaled softly, holding on for dear life.

“Goodnight,”- He said, or maybe thought, or maybe imagined, his consciousness finally fading into sweet darkness.

“gordon,”- Benrey replied then, quiet, soft, and with the certain conviction of a man giving the right answer to a demanding question.

#frenrey #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #there is also a smidgen of boomer in there #and softly implied darnold/tommy #i cant believe this is my first fic in two years and this is what i write #hlvrai truly is incredible huh #fanfiction #sai.fic

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yoonjinkooked · 5 years ago

Text

Daddy Day Care | Chapter 4

pairing; jungkook/female OC

genre; fluff, romcom, smutty in the future, Dad!Jungkook rating; explicit (IN FUTURE CHAPTERS ONLY, not yet) words; this chapter 5001 (lol), total so far (18.547) Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3

— synopsis; Jeongguk is your average 25-year-old - job, work, friends - everything regular. Except, he has a 5 year old daughter. And he’s single. Until a “princess” waltzes into his life.

warnings for this chapter: You still very much want to have Jungkook’s children. Cursing & Banter. Traces of Jinslut. JK is hopeless. You’re going to want to punch and hug him at the same time. Unable-to-flirt and struggle-to-adult Jungkook. A/N: PLEASE have mercy on me if there are any mistakes, English has been kicking my ass lately. Hope you enjoy. Sorry it took me this long. Let me know what you think, my ask is always open <3

It took no less than 10 minutes for me to see and understand why Eunmi is as whipped for Gayoon as she is. See, when you’re five, adults seem so cool, so serious, so grown up. Parents are parents, even if they are cool, they are simply not cool enough. If there is an adult in the mix that is old enough for it to be WOW to a five year old and also doesn’t have the responsibility of being the parent – jackpot.

Eunmi was acting like she and Gayoon are attached by the hip and Gayoon just played along with it. Even when Eunmi wanted to show her every single toy she has, even when she took her by the hand and dragged her away to show her every possible corner of the apartment. What would normally at some point become annoying to anyone, even me as her father, Gayoon took like a champ and not only played along, but actually seem interested. Hell, she even asked Eunmi questions.

She’s a natural and I can see why she’s Eunmi’s favorite teacher. I’m also suddenly very glad Yuki insisted that we pay an insane tuition for Eunmi to go to a private kindergarten.

And the little one did not hold back – she clung onto Gayoon like a koala. So much so that I got a heavy case of second hand embarrassment with how clingy she was being. I’m just glad she’s five – no matter what she does, ‘she’s five’ is always an excuse to get us out of any mess.

Two hours from the moment we stepped into the apartment and one impromptu tea party with stuffed animals, Eunmi managed to doze off, despite the excitement she had been feeling the entire day. Her words were dragged and her eyelids were barely open but she still refused to nap – until her head fell down onto Gayoon’s lap, her lips open and eyes shut.

“Let me help you with that,” I smile at Gayoon, keeping my voice low and my hands gentle as I pick Eunmi up, very careful not to move her around in my arms too much. She normally sleeps like a log but I can’t risk it – if she wakes up not only will she be cranky but she will probably refuse to sleep again. Not that it would do her much good, seeing as her eyes simply refused to stay open.

“Wait, let me help you,” Gayoon whispers as she gets up from the couch, walking in front of me to open the door of Eunmi’s room for me to walk through. I put Eunmi down on the bad, smiling when I notice her signature nose scrunch – for a second, I freeze, scared that she will wake but it turns out to be a false alarm. Very gently, I tuck her in and put her favorite teddy bear underneath her arm. Gayoon closes the door after me, smiling at Eunmi. “She is beyond cute.”

“I know,” I smile stupidly, unable to ignore the urge to gush about how adorable Eunmi actually is. “She is a little cutie but she already has a temper,” I add.

“No,” she laughs and shakes her head as we make our way back to the couch. “I don’t think she does. I suppose she can be a bit tricky but you have no idea how bad the other kids can be,” she tells me, giving me a pointed look as she reaches for her cup of hot chocolate – hot chocolate she had to help me with because I nearly burnt it. “There’s a reason Eunmi is one of my favorites.”

“Is she good to others?” I ask, making Gayoon look at me in confusion. “I mean, I’ve never heard anything about her fighting with other kids but… is it really like that or do teachers just say that to make parents relax and don’t ask stupid questions?”

“Oh boy,” she chuckles, smiling at me. Yeah, that’s the kind of smile that makes me swallow a lump when it’s directed at me. “It’s really like that. We wouldn’t lie, at least I wouldn’t. It’s important for parents to know what their kid is actually like, even if that means that they sometimes hear something they’d rather not know of. You have no reason to worry, though. Eunmi is a proper sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone. She’s also not a pushover, so don’t worry – she would hold her ground if need be.”

“Good,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “You’d think that after five years, I’d be sure of myself and of what I’m doing but most days… I swear I’m more like a headless chicken than a fully functioning adult,” I admit.

“Oh come on, we all have our headless chicken moments,” she reassures me, a smile still plastered on her face. “She’s your only child, it’s not like you have experience of raising one. I’d say both you and her mother are doing a good job. Both in general and in your circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I ask, noticing that she suddenly looks uncomfortable. She’s looking away and her face is the face of someone who said something they shouldn’t have said. “If you’re referring to us being young, we’re well aware of that,” I laugh.

“It’s not that,” she shakes her head. “You’re young, of course you know that. But it’s one thing to have a teacher of your daughter point it out in a way that might sound condescending, even though it isn’t.”

“Don’t worry, I truly didn’t take it that way,” I tell her. And I mean it. “I was just confused as to which circumstance you’re referring to, us being young or separated, because both are quite specific circumstances and both are very much true.”

“Age can mean something, in my opinion, but it’s definitely not a rule,” she tells me. “Like I’ve said before, we can all be headless chickens every now and then. And as for the two of you being separated, I will let you know that my mother raised Jimin and myself all on her own, since Jimin was three and I a baby. So yeah, circumstances be damned.”

“That’s quite impressive,” I nod. I never knew that Mrs. Park was a single mom but then again, I had no clue Jimin was her son either, and I just recently saw Gayoon for the first time, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised how little I know about Mrs. Park’s family tree. “You’re one of the few people that actually don’t appear all judgy and mighty. I’ve gotten used to it by now – half the parents of Eunmi’s classmates look at me like I’m a high schooler or something.”

“Jeongguk… more often than not, you or Eunmi’s mother pick her up from kindergarten before other parents do. You both pick her up early to try and spend more time with her. Some of those kids stay in the kindergarten until five, six PM. I understand that many of those parents have jobs and obligations but so do you. And yet you still do it. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about what they think.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are just a nice person?” I ask.

Fuck, verbal diarrhea. Why did I say that? It is true, I’m not denying that but why did I say it? I could have just said thank you or something like that. Well, at least I didn’t say that she’s the nicest person on the planet – it could have been worse.

“I’m not gonna lie, I have heard it before,” she laughs. “But it’s always a good thing to hear. And you seem pretty nice too.”

“Even with a daughter that clings onto you like a koala?” Jesus Christ, Jeon Jeongguk, shut the fuck up!

“Well, if you don’t mind me being honest, she’s the best part,” I laugh at her comment. She’s not wrong – Eunmi is the best part of me. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done and pretty much the only thing in my life I am genuinely and completely proud of. If someone thinks she’s the best thing about me, I’ll gladly take it.

“I’m sorry we kidnapped you for the whole of Christmas Day,” I tell her, feeling guilt rise again. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t expecting to stay at our place for three hours and counting. “I’m sorry if we ruined some plans for you. I’m an idiot who forgets his wallet everywhere he goes and Eunmi didn’t want to let go of you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she shakes her head, smiling with that adorable, small smile that makes me swoon and want to punch something at the same time. “I was literally working back at the kindergarten. We had a family lunch and we all went our separate ways. The only plan I had was Netflix and food. I got cake, Super Mario and a tea party, so I would say the day was quite fruitful.”

“Would you like to add some wine into the mix too? Eunmi seemed pretty knocked out, we can be adults until she wakes up?” I suggested.

Perfect, you fucking fucktard idiot person! You are literally asking your daughter’s kindergarten teacher to get drunk with you in your apartment while your daughter is sleeping in the next room. Are you absolutely out of your mind? She’ll run and probably get Eunmi expelled or something.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she surprisingly agrees. “I’ll just call Jimin to let him know he should take a taxi when he leaves for home so that he can drive me and my car back home.”

“Perfect.”

For a usually quiet person, I realize that I am surprisingly chatty with her. In the little I’ve known Gayoon, she always seemed like a good listener. She would listen carefully, nodding along and looking directly at you, asking you questions when you pause for a breath. We had red wine and talked just about anything and everything until Eunmi woke up. Before we ended up playing Super Mario, we talked about her, about how difficult it is to raise kids, how difficult it is to work with kids, how I never thought I’d end up being an office worker and how Gayoon was positive she would end up opening a bakery.

Hours passed in good fun and before we knew it, it was Eunmi’s bedtime and of course, my daughter had to backstab me and refuse my offer to read her a story and saying she’d rather have Gayoon read it for her. I got a pat on the back from Gayoon, probably because I looked and felt like a kicked puppy, before she agreed to read her a story.

I was leaned on the door, listening to the two of them talk about princess and mermaids, because not a single page could go by without Eunmi asking both related and unrelated questions.

The teacher in Gayoon was present – well, either that or the fact that she actually does seem like a genuinely good person. She clicked with Eunmi so well, I could feel my heart swell.

I have only ever seen Yuki acting this way with her. Perhaps Byulyi and Hyejin, occasionally, but never anyone else. She… she seemed almost motherly. After having random girls run from me because I’m a father, run from me as if I am the plague itself, it’s quite shocking to see someone not doing the same thing. Of course, the context is different – Gayoon hasn’t shown a particular interest to get into my pants, nor have I shown interest to get into hers, at least I don’t think so. The context is different but it still feels so damn nice to see someone being so good with Eunmi.

I don’t move from my place until Gayoon does, moving gently to tuck Eunmi in and smiling up at me as I turn off the lights and make my way back to the living room. She closes the door carefully, quietly and smiles at me again. “I hope this wasn’t too much – I just can’t say no to her.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” I shake my head immediately. “Thank you. Thank you for doing that. Whenever she’s not with Yuki, I feel as if I’m not… you know, doing it well.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re much better at this than I am. Being a teacher and nice to kids is nothing more than my job – this is the role of your lifetime and you’re playing it perfectly, from what I’ve seen so far.”

“It’s almost sickening how nice you are.”

She bursts into laughter, quickly covering her mouth, not wanting to wake the little one up. I was wrong when I thought her smile is the most charming thing about her – now that I heard genuine, surprised and uncontrolled laughter, even if for a second, I know this one takes the cake.

For someone her age, our age, she sure does have a childlike laughter. And I’m pretty sure I’m staring at her now. Good work, Don Juan! How very smooth of you!

“I’m not that nice,” she shakes her head. “But I do have to say that… Oh!” she hurries to answer her phone, pulling it out of her pocket in the speed of light before the ringtone manages to wake Eunmi up. I even manage to recognize the ringtone. I pull the song out from the old, forgotten, punk brain of mine – The Ramones, ‘She talks to rainbows’. Of all the songs I expected to hear coming from her phone, this was not the one. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be down,” she ends the call. “Jimin’s waiting for me.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you for bringing me my wallet. And staying with us. And playing with Eunmi. And talking to me. And reading her a story. Yeah, thank you for everything, I guess.”

Nice work, Romeo. Smooth talker, that’s what you are. Smooth fucking criminal.

“Stop thanking me,” she laughs as she moves towards the hallway, grabbing her purse and jacket from where I hanged them earlier. “I had fun. It’s safe to say we’re friends now – and friends do spend time with each other and their kids. And they give each other cake and bring each other lost wallets, so stop thanking me so much.”

“In that case, thank you for a lovely day.”

Okay, that actually was smooth.

“Hmm,” she narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll take that one.”

Before I could say anything or think about the position of my hands, she hugs me. I am completely frozen for a moment, before I realize that I have less than a second to react before she pulls away and this turns more awkward than it already is. So I hug her back, tapping her shoulder with my hand. She smiles as she pulls away and my face is probably nothing more than a painful grimace.

“I’ll see you around,” she smiles. “If you ever need a babysitter, you know my number.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I chuckle. “Merry Christmas Gayoon.”

“Merry Christmas Jeongguk.”

I stand at the door as she walks down the hallway, waving like a complete idiot even though she doesn’t turn around – I’m waving and she doesn’t even see it. I shake my head, snapping out of it and closing the door before she has a chance to see me standing here like a complete idiot.

I close the door, lock it and bang my head on it, hard enough for it to be painful, faint enough to keep Eunmi asleep and Gayoon unaware.

I think I’m in the beginning stage of having a crush on my daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

“Could you at least try to pretend like you’re having a good time?”

The problem is, I did. For a good half hour, I looked like the very gif of The Office’s Michael Scoot gritting his teeth and looking as awkward as possible. For half an hour I did my very best to look as if I am having the time of my life.

The truth is, I don’t remember the last time I felt as uncomfortable as I do now. Seokjin insisted that I should not be alone on New Year’s Eve, which is exactly why I ended up following him to what he called the hottest club in town. Him and six of his best mates, most of whom I’ve known for years, but in passing, as I never really wanted to be a part of their sausage fest. Which is exactly what I am now.

Seven men and me, as bored and as uncomfortable as I could possibly be.

They come here with a goal – get drunk and get laid. And I just want to be home, in my sweatpants, eating ramen and playing Super Mario or finally catching up with Black Mirror. Literally, every possible scenario that includes me staying at home is better than the current situation.

My brain is one generic EDM song away from turning into pudding and my stomach is one fruity drink away from giving up on everything. I’m a stay-at-home, beer-drinking kind of guy. This is not my place.

So, to answer Seokjin’s question – no, I can no longer even try to pretend like I’m having a good time.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh, watching him shake his head in disappointment. While I know he’s joking, I also know that my mood is affecting his and the last thing I want to do is ruin his night – New Year’s Eve, of all nights. I don’t want to be that person, I hate to be that person but I can’t fight it. “It’s just not my scene.”

“You always adapted before. This isn’t your first rodeo,” he tells me and honestly, he’s right. I used to go out with him before and while it was never my favorite thing to do, I could handle it.

“I don’t know, I think I just have too much on my mind,” I yell, in order to overpower the bass.

“You’re thinking about your girl?” Seokjin yells back at me.

“No,” I shake my head. “I mean, I always think about her but it’s the way it is – I had her for Christmas, Yuki has her for New Year’s Eve. It’s the fairest deal possible.”

“I’m not talking about Eunmi,” Seokjin laughs. “I’m talking about her teacher. You know, the girl you’re crushing on?”

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to tell Seokjin about it. I guess I expected advice, seeing as he’s my big brother and a ladies man extraordinaire. Instead of a good, solid piece of advice or even a rude wakeup call while reminding me that she is my daughter’s teacher, I just got laughed at. I called him the same night Gayoon left my apartment, and since then, not a day has passed without him mentioning it in a way that could appear humorous to anyone but me.

“Seokjin, I’ve told you, I am not crushing on her.”

“No, you just like her,” he corrects me and leans over to yell directly into my ear. “Look, you are making questionable choices because you can’t even remember the last time you had anything with any woman. You’re over Yuki and you’re not ready for commitment again but you need to get yourself out there and do something because crushing on your daughter’s teacher is not a common storyline. Find someone else to crush on before you and your ex need to change your daughter’s kindergarten!”

God, he’s right. Yuki will kill me if we have to change Eunmi’s kindergarten and judging by the way Eunmi seems to be attached to her friends and even Gayoon herself, she’d kill me to. I’d rather wait for her teenage years before I hear the first “I hate you” from her.

“Or, if you’re really hung up on her, ask her out,” Seokjin completely changes his story. “Just pick a side. Either grow a pair or take your pick,” he waves his hand around, as if he’s showing me all that the club has to offer. Outside the sausage fest we are in, the club really is full of girls our age, most of them in a pack with other girls, very probably looking for a hook up, the same way all of Seokjin’s friends know that if all goes according to plan, not a single one of them will be going home alone.

It’s like watching National Geographic or something. Two packs of opposite genders eyeing each other from different sides of the club, picking their pray and getting all hyped up before they strike. Words of encouragement shared, pats on the shoulders, a few giggles here and there and the plan is set in motion. Of course, not all is a hunting field – there are packs that are here just to have fun. I can see a group of laughing and dancing people who are…

“Holy shit, that’s her!” I all but yell, pointing to the dance floor.

“Her who?” Seokjin looks around.

“Gayoon, Eunmi’s teacher.”

For a second, I am sure that I am imagining things but as I watch her throw her head back while laughing, I am positive that it is Gayoon – it’s just not the Gayoon I saw a few days ago. This Gayoon has fairly shorter and curly hair – she had pretty long hair the other day. And this Gayoon is definitely not wearing the casual clothes Gayoon from the other day was wearing – unless a tight, black dress can count as casual. I’m a guy – what do I know?

“Wait, which girl are you talking about?” Seokjin asks as he leans into me, wanting a better view.

“Shoulder length hair, black dress.”

“Holy shit!” he yells and for a second, I forget we’re in a night club and my blood freezes, thinking that Gayoon must have heard him. “That’s Eunmi’s teacher?! No wonder you’re dying to live out a teacher kink!”

“She’s not MY teacher, you idiot!” I smack him on the shoulder, making him laugh out loud. I’m not laughing – this is becoming too much. “It’s not like that.”

“Looking at her, it should be like that,” Seokjin comments.

“You don’t get it,” I shake my head – of course Seokjin would not get it. He’s been in love once and after that particular train wreck, he hasn’t bothered looking for anything other than easy sex. “Yeah, she’s pretty and yeah she’s hot but she’s actually nice and friendly and most importantly, good with Eunmi.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Seokjin shakes his head.

“Yeah, because I can’t develop a proper interest into someone after like… a few hours spent with them! Just as I don’t want to have a one night stand with my daughter’s teacher! Of course I don’t know what I want – I might not even want anything and am just confused! I don’t know what I want and it would be very weird if I did!” I yell over the music.

“Well, I think she knows what she wants,” he nods his head and when I look back to Gayoon, I can see what he means – she’s definitely closer to one of the guys in her group than she was just seconds ago. They are dancing together, they’re bodies almost completely pressed together, his hands on her hips as they sway together, much too slow for the beat that’s threatening to make my brain explode.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Go there! Say hi! Talk to her! Dance with her! Get to her before he does!” he tries to push me away from our booth but I stay frozen, shaking my head.

“Nah, I just told you. I don’t know what I want and judging by that,” I wave my hand to her and the guy she is dancing with. “It’s a bit too late anyways.”

I have no right to sulk, I know that very well. Not once did Gayoon show any signs of being interested in me in any way other than a teacher-parent one, perhaps a friendly one too. She did not flirt, she did not say anything that would make me wonder if it has a double meaning and let’s not forget about the crushed mistletoe. Not to mention that I haven’t done anything either – of course I didn’t, I just think I might kind of like her.

I have no right to sulk at the sight of her expressing interest in another man and even though I try to fight it, I know I end up pouting, sitting in the booth and glaring towards them, sipping on the shitty cocktail Seokjin insisted on buying for me.

“You’re a complete idiot,” is Seokjin’s conclusion he reaches while looking at me in disappointment.

“Maybe I am.”

15 minutes after the clock strikes midnight and the whole club drunkenly yells New Year’s greetings – that’s the time limit I’ve given myself. Long enough to not seem rude, just enough to not lose my mind.

“You’re actually leaving?” Seokjin once again looks disappointed. As bad as I feel, he had it coming. He knew I was not going to enjoy myself, he knew this is not my scene in any way. As bad as I feel for leaving him, one – I know he won’t miss me and 2 – he should be the one to feel bad for dragging me out to begin with.

“I handled it for as long as I could. Happy New Year, brother,” I pat him on the back and make my way through the ocean of bodies, towards the exit. I don’t look back, not to Seokjin, not to Gayoon.

I made a point of not looking her way for as long as I have been in the club – staring at her just seemed a bit too creepy, especially given that she was obviously pretty close to hooking up with the guy she was dancing with. It felt creepy, wrong and uncomfortable – so I decided to simply not look her way while I was there. I doubt she saw me but if she did, she made no move to approach me.

Outside, the weather and the atmosphere is hellish – snow started falling again and I obviously wasn’t the only one with the thoughts of leaving early – one by one, groups of people were getting into lined up taxis, while others were waiting for the next ones to drive by. Imagining the price I’ll have to pay for the drive back home on New Year’s Eve felt like a punch to the gut.

“Jeongguk?!”

Oh crap.

I want to hide, I really do. Maybe it would be believable if I don’t respond? It’s pretty crowded, I think I can play it off as if I hadn’t heard her. “Jeongguk!” her voice is raised now, as she is obviously certain that she’s not imagining things. I can’t hide.

I turn around, pretending to look confused and I see her walking my way, still in that short sleeved dress, looking as if she’s freezing her butt of, but still smiling at me. She even has blue highlights in her hair. I don’t know what happened to Gayoon from the other day.

“Oh! Hi! Hey! Happy New Year!” I sound like an idiot to myself but really, what else can I do?

“Happy New Year!” she beams up at me as she stops a few feet away. “Were you here the whole night?”

“Yeah, my brother dragged me out,” I roll my eyes. “I am escaping now. You’re leaving too?” I ask, noticing that the guy she was dancing with doesn’t seem to be around.

“No, not yet – I’m here with Jimin and a group of our friends, I can’t leave without them,” she explains. “I just thought I needed a bit of fresh air, after one too many tequila shots,” she adds, although she doesn’t appear to be drunk at all. “In hindsight, stupid idea – it’s freezing.”

“What happened to… No, never mind,” I stop myself at the last moment.

“What happened to what?”

“No, nothing.”

“Jeongguk, don’t be that person,” she laughs. “I hate it when people do that. Spill it.”

“What happened to cold never bothering you anyway?” I utter my lame joke, watching as she frowns in confusion – it takes her a moment to realize what exactly I’m referring to but when she finally connects the dots, she seems equally amused and pissed.

“I hate you,” she tries to sound serious but I can tell she’s fighting off a smile.

“You set yourself up for that one,” I laugh. We might not be friends now, hell, we might not even be friends in the future, but after our meeting, I am forever entitled to make Frozen jokes on her expense.

“The price I pay,” she sighs before smiling again. “Anyways, I’d better go inside before I turn into Olaf,” it’s a bad joke but I still laugh – that’s what she’s making me do now. I’m laughing at fairly stupid jokes. This isn’t good. “I’ll see you around. Happy New Year Jeongguk.”

“Happy New Year Gayoon,” I smile, waving at her once before she wobbles back inside the club, still trying to keep herself warm with her arms wrapped around her body – she’s right, it was stupid to go outside in this weather without a jacket. I should have offered her mine.

On the drive back to my place, I stare through the window and watch all the drunk, well-dressed people stumbling around, laughing, hugging one another. I watch and wonder when that stopped being me. I wonder if even I miss that being me.

The only conclusion I could come up with is that maybe Seokjin was right after all. Maybe I am a complete idiot.

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cecilspeaks · 5 years ago

Text

165 - Charlie

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are written about on Wikipedia. Welcome to Night Vale.

Charles Rainier grew up in Becket, Massachusetts, nestled in the rolling small hills of the Berkshires. The fiery fall leaves, pristine winter snowfall, lush spring flowers and sparkling summer lakes belied the average life of young Charles. He went to school, passed his classes, he spent time with friends seeing popular movies and playing popular games. His family ate food together and generally got along. When he wanted to be alone, he went to a small pond, hidden in the woods, to fish. He studied sociology at Amherst College and graduated in the top 50 percent of his class. Nothing about his unremarkable upbringing indicated he would one day be standing in the middle of a desert, behind a roadblock, holding a rifle and a flashlight, and searching for fugitives from his own asylum.

Last month, a dozen inmates of the Night Vale Asylum escaped during a production of a play. As an attendee of that play, I would say that while the escape was clearly not part of the original draft of the script, it made for an exciting resolution. I mean, bout 30 minutes in Carlos and I were like, is there going to be a car chase or a shootout or something, I mean that play was bo-o-o-orring! And then suddenly, there was both! But the warden, Charles Rainier from Becket, Massachusetts, did not like the last minute edits to the plot, as he and the Sheriff’s Secret Police have yet to round up any of the inmates now on the run, somewhere in our vast desert. Night Vale citizens have expressed deep concerns about their safety. A scathing op-ed in yesterday’s Daily Journal by Leann Hart read: “Warden Rainier should never have been in charge of such an important institution. His unchecked irresponsibility will lead us all to be killed by psychopaths, who surely hide now inside our basements, our attics, our laundry hampers, perhaps inside our own pants pockets.” The editorial continued: “They wield knives, ropes, wrenches, candlesticks, or pipes. And when we least expect it, these crazed killers will leap out at us, screaming bout eating our faces or feeding us to rodents. Or whatever other evil actions those two very funny women are always describing on “My Favorite Murrderrr”. Charles Rainier called Hart’s claims “neurotypical ableism”, saying that we become too biased from movies and TV shows that play up harmful tropes about mental illnesses. He added that none of the peoples inside were of immediate anger to any individual in Night Vale. The Night Vale chapter of the ACLU then responded, calling for in investigation into a public facility that would imprison people who had committed no criminal acts and were of no harm to society. Charles Rainier replied: “I said they wouldn’t hurt any individual. I didn’t say they were of no harm to society.”

But who were the people in the asylum? Carlos and I attended the production of the play “18713/NTSB”, partially to have a nice date night, just the two of us. But also because I was curious if I would see Amelia Anna Alfaro there. The air traffic controller has not been seen since 2012, after hearing voices from the missing flight, Delta 18713. There were rumors she was checked into the asylum. Other rumors, that she had gone off to find the missing plane, and other other rumors, that she was disappeared by a Vague yet Menacing Government Agency.

Amelia was not inside the asylum the night of the breakout. But Doug Biondi was there. He played the pilot of the missing plane in the play we saw. Doug was the impetus for this entire story, really, because it was Doug who, according to Sheriff Sam, had real information about the missing plane. Members of the National Transportation and Safety Board had also come to Night Vale to talk to Doug about what he knew, and Sheriff Sam obliged by sending those agents from Washington DC on an undercover investigation into the asylum. Yet, like Doug and the dozens of other inmates in that fearful place, they did not return.

According to to Doug Biondi’s journal, which Carlos and I found inside the asylum after the play, warden Charles Rainier developed a paradoxical logic for dealing with these inmates. He encouraged them to talk openly bout their feelings under the guise of healing them, but the more they expressed their thoughts and emotions, the more the warden used this information as proof of their insanity, and by extension, ineligibility for release. But as Doug elaborates, if inmates refused to talk, they were deemed uncooperative and of course, ineligible for release. Reading further into Doug’s journal, I realized it’s just like that novel, “Catch-22”, in that there’s a bunch of talk about airplanes. What stood out most to me, though, was the fact that every other inmate Doug mentions also talked about the missing Delta flight. Every single person in there either heard voices of the passengers, or had theories about what happened or were, in the case of NTSB agents, just open to find survivors of a missing plane. Doug railed against the collusion between the warden and the sheriff to imprison people simply because they knew something, anything, about flight 18713. “This is the last thing,” Doug wrote the day he escaped. “This nefarious conspiracy runs deep. Deeper than we can imagine. There are innocent people on a missing plane, and our government wants to destroy us for seeking the truth. Oh well. In other news, they fixed the TV in the rec room so I’m hoping to finally watch ‘Cheer’ on Netflix. Everyone says it’s super good.” Doug makes a compelling claim here, but he is wrong. About the conspiracy thing, not about “Cheer”, that show is super good.

So. Back in 2015, my devoted husband and devoted scientist Carlos, was heading a research project into a desert otherworld, a place very similar to our own. We spent almost a year apart while Carlos was in this alternate dimension performing experiments and drawing charts and pouring bubbling liquids back and forth between flasks. It was hard. We had only been dating a year when he left, but we kept in touch talking almost every day, sending each other text messages at night, like a kissy face emoji with a big red heart emoji. Or sometimes we sent racier messages, like [naughty voice] the safety goggles emoji with the police siren emoji and the first place ribbon emoji. Oh, sorry if that’s a little too graphic.

Anyway. Carlos made friends during his many months out of town, and so when he finally decided to return to Night Vale, some of those he met followed him. They came through a portal Carlos discovered in the Desert Otherworld: a one-sided door. It was difficult to find in a never-ending sandscape, but it is still there. And as Carlos said, once you know the way, you never forget it.

One of the people who came with Carlos through the portal in 2015 was Charles Rainier of Becket, Massachusetts. It was not easy for most of these new arrivals to find comfort or employment in Night Vale, but in just a few months, Charles had become friends with our new Sheriff and secured himself a job at the Night Vale Asylum. Few people looked deeply at the asylum, nor at Charles Rainier’s quick appointment as warden. Few people, in fact, looked closely at anything to do with mental disorders. It it almost as if we prefer not to see the mental illness at all. It is almost exactly like that. Well below the radar of public attention, Charles settled into his new position. And because there are no accounts of what went on in the asylum, and thus no stories of failure, it was inferred that he did a good job. But Carlos discovered something this week. In reading Doug Biondi’s journal, Doug makes passing mention of warden Rainier cautioning his inmates against listening to the voice of the pilot. The warden warns them that the pilot can control other beings with his mind. It is odd that the head of a mental health institution would patronize his patients with their own inner demons. Carlos at first thought the warden was manipulating the mental stability of his charges to stir up their fear and confusion in order to keep them there. We don’t know if the warden profited from retaining inmates or if he just felt an evil thrill from playing these games. But in Doug’s notes, the warden apparently said: “It is possible to escape the allure of the pilot. The power of his voice. Some have, but it is rare. And it is dangerous that you can hear him at all.”

Carlos remembered when he first met Charles Rainier, five years ago in the Desert Otherworld. Charles was so enthralled with Carlos’ stories of Night Vale. Charles Rainier could not wait to see this fantastic town and more importantly, to leave the terrible place in which he lived. He told Carlos that he escaped some – frightening people there. Charles Rainier said he had live in a commune for a couple of years. It began OK, they foraged and hunted their food, they helped each other and shared shelter inside the fuselage of an old plane. Everything was fine. They were alive, but soon the group became cult-like and aggressive, fashioning weapons and manufacturing enemies. The constant threat of violence toward other, towards themselves, shackled Charles’s every move. But he could not leave. Every time he tried, he heard a voice that called him back. So he trained himself to block out the voices. It took him weeks of determined practice, but finally he broke free. Carlos said to me: “Cecil, sweetie, my hypothesis is Charles Rainier was flying home from Detroit to Albany on June 15, 2012.” And I said: “What are you saying, honey-pop?” And Carlos said: “Babe, his plane blipped out of the sky and into the Desert Otherworld.” And I said: “Are you saying, kitty-cake, that Charles ws a passenger on Delta 18713?” But then Carlos aid: “You know, little piggy-pie, all this work talk is exhausting. Let’s have a glass of wine, sit out on the deck, and enjoy the nice weather.

[“Breathe” by Tanja Daub http://tanjadaub.bandcamp.com]

Listeners. I called Charlies Reinier, and I told him what Carlos and I talked about, and he confirmed what we discovered. He was indeed a passenger on 18713. They landed roughly but safely in the Desert Otherworld in June 2012. They ate their few food items and drank their water stores in two days. And soon they began spreading out to find civilization. But the desert was vast and seemingly uninhabited. They were too afraid to venture far from the plane, the only symbol of recognizable society. The pilot lead expeditions to find plant life and sources of water. He exuded calmness and clarity, and the passengers followed his example, occasionally finding peace in this unpleasant and frightening desert. Within a few months, they had developed a rhythm. They were finding food to eat, water to drink, the pilot seemed to know exactly where to hunt, exactly what to say, exactly how to behave.

Every passenger fell in line. They all had jobs to do, roles to fill, in this little commune. The fuselage kept them sheltered from the searing white days and the icy black nights. Sometimes they sang together, walked together, taught each other how to sew, how to cook, how to make tools. The passengers’ fear became comradery, which became unity, which became family. Which eventually became religiosity.

One day they were making salves from cacti, and the next they were crafting weapons. Charles hadn’t realized it at first, but every person on that plane could communicate telepathically. They could speak without talking – no, without learning. They were becoming a single organism separated into dozens of bodies. The loudest voice in their heads was the pilot. They had grown too complacent, and the pilot began to fill them once again with fear, fear of outsiders, of the rest of the world. They began to make barbaric expeditions hoping to find people or things to destroy. “I tried to escape,” Charles said to me. “I tried to escape over and over, but the voice was too strong. It was only when I thought about a little fishing hole down near Stockbridge that I would go to in summers by myself, to get away, to be alone.” Charles said he began to pantomime fishing, casting his imaginary lure on an imaginary line into and imaginary pond on hot desert sand. And when he did this, the voices quieted in his mind. He could free himself from the pilot’s voice, from the pilot’s control. I asked Charles why he and Sheriff Sam were locking away people just for knowing about the plane. He said: “Cecil, I locked up Doug Biondi before anyone else. He’s from that Otherworld, and he knows how to get back, and if he knows how to get back, he’ll join the 18713 and lead them into Night Vale.” Charles said he was protecting our little town from the threat of the passengers of Delta flight 18713. “If the pilot enlists Doug and gets into Night Vale, he’ll recruit who he can and destroy the rest.” “But why odes he communicate only through Doug? I-I mean why not Carlos or, or Dana Cardinal or Sheriff Sam themself? Why not recruit everyone who knows the way into Night Vale?” “I don’t know, Cecil,” Charles snapped back. “But I don’t will into existence by yapping about it either, so drop it!”

Listeners, Doug Biondi is about six foot tall. With an unsettlingly… long smile and dark nightmarish eyes. If you see him, contact the Sheriff’s office immediately. If you do not see Doug Biondi, then close your windows, hold your family close, and repeat a mantra that will clear your head of all outside thoughts.

Stay tuned next for a meditative oummmm. A single oummmmmm. For one full hour, uninterrupted by breath and commercial free.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

23:07 time traveler 30:32 pottery class

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 165 #Charlie

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doc-pickles · 4 years ago

Text

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p.2)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

Saturday 12:09 PM

you know what might be worse than pyramid schemes?

bridal showers

this is horrendous

Same woman you were drinking in solidarity to?

obviously, I have like four friends

I thought teachers were like outgoing and bubbly?

oh hell no, socializing is not my cup of tea

one of the other bridesmaids just asked who i was texting so I told her jack the ripper

Oh you couldn’t even give me a good one

i’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that

My day off and the weekend finally coincide, which means I’m not leaving my couch all day.

I wish I were you this shower is gonna kill me

teachers on the weekend are a fun sight to see

You’re not partaking this time?

no i’m DD

it’s for the best, I did throw up on my shoes last weekend

How crazy is a bridal shower that you need a DD?

there’s a mimosa bar and they’re already playing never have I ever

the mother of the groom is starting something with the mother of the bride

I gotta deal with this

Saturday 3:11 PM

I deserve bottle of wine for all of the shit I dealt with today

I never wanna be a maid of honor ever again

Maybe we should rename you Maid of Dishonor?

wooooooow

I throw up on my shoes ONE TIME

How’d the battle of the mothers go?

oh it was horrendous

groom is from a rich family and bride grew up on a farm… you know how it goes

Doesn’t sound fun. Glad you made it out.

barely

how’s your day off going

Amazing. I get to watch baseball and sit on the couch with a bag of chips and a beer. I’m living the dream.

I envy you

they’re making us go out again

Do you get to drink during this escapade?

yes thank god

manhattan or moscow mule?

A whiskey drinker? You might be the perfect woman.

don’t try to butter me up, i’ve never even met you in person

We can change that.

Saturday 6:14 PM

Do you think birds have dreams?

I thought I was supposed to get drunk

You were talking too long. And I’m not drunk.

I can’t think of another reason why you’d ask me about bird dreams

You’re a teacher. I was curios.

i’m not a bird specialist

personally I do not think that birds can dream

I’m telling them you said that.

the birds?

Yes. They deserve to know the truth.

have you just been sitting on the couch drinking beer all day?

did you even eat

Yeah I had pizza for lunch

what about dinner?

It’s not dinner time yet.

dude it’s 6

Oh shit really?

Hahaha that explains it

psh and you said I was bad when I was drunk

you’re freaking Snow White

Is this ebcause I asked about the birds

yes it is

I gotta go, Maggie says i’m not netting the quota for fun

Maggie sounds like a buzzkill

she’s the assistant principal, i’m scared she’ll fire me if I don’t listen

jk… kinda

Saturday 12:32 AM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jo! Put the phone down! You should not be calling anyone right now!”

“Hello?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn! I’m so glad you picked up.”

“Are you drunk now?”

“Noooo….. maybe. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi princess.”

“Your voice is nice. It’s a good voice, it’s sexy and I like it.”

“You’re kinda crazy, you know that?”

“Josephine Wilson! Give me the phone!”

“Woah who full named you? They sound angry.”

“That’s Maggie, she’s trying to get me to go home. I can’t go home Maggie, I’m talking to a hot doctor! And he has a sexy voice!”

“You’ve never even seen me, you don’t know if I’m hot.”

“I’m judging off your sexy voice and what few characteristics I know about you. I’d be shocked if you weren’t hot.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“I have to go, Maggie is dragging me out of the bar. Byeeee hot doctor!”

“Goodnight princess, don’t throw up on your shoes this time.”

Sunday 9:58 AM

How’re your shoes looking?

Sunday 11:22 AM

You’re still dead? I mean you did call me half past midnight… but I thought you’d be up by now.

Sunday 1:46 PM

Are you embarrassed because of what you said on the phone? Frankly I found it endearing.

Sunday 3:18 PM

As a doctor, I’m advising you to drink more fluids and get food in your system. Maybe a banana. It’ll make you feel less shitty, trust me.

Sunday 6:17 PM

Hope you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.

Monday 7:23 AM

oh my god I am so sorry

I dropped my phone in Maggie’s car and I just got it back

wait you were worried about me weren’t you

Well you fell off the face of the earth… so yeah.

awwww well it’s nice to know that someone would notice if I was kidnapped and murdered

Didn’t you say I was the one that would kidnap and murder you?

yes but i’m having a change of heart

Is it because of my sexy voice?

I was kinda hoping I didn’t say that out loud

whoops

I told you I found it endearing.

flattery will get you everywhere

gotta go, class is lining up and they’re already screaming

I’ll pray for you.

Monday 8:08 PM

dude the thai place on 7th across from old navy?

amazing

i’m in heaven

Oh so we’ve reached the stage of giving each other food recommendations?

obviously

this is a serious relationship

Chinese place across from Joe’s Bar has the best egg rolls. Perfect drunchies.

i’ve never been to joe’s

I live right around the corner from there

So we’re neighbors then? I’m off of Fullerton.

I guess we are

that’s exciting, i bet i’ve seen you at the grocery store

Bold of you to assume I make it to the grocery store.

honestly same

I usually guilt steph or izzie into it

You’re the chaotic good of the group aren’t you?

obviously

I keep things balanced

what’re you doing?

On a break, almost done for the night. I have to round on post ops and then I’m done.

nice!!! did you get anything fun today?

Not really just surgeries I could do in my sleep.

typical monday’s

I have to go, we have a field trip tomorrow and i’m not emotionally prepared

Oof. Have fun, don’t die.

who the hell ends texts like that?

A doctor. Obviously. Night princess.

goodnight Snow White

Tuesday 12:18 PM

whoever decided to bring 42 fourth graders to the science discovery museum should be fired

Isn’t that you?

maybe

maybe not

It was totally you. How about a deal?

deal with an internet stranger?

fine but if I die i’m gonna be pissed

How about I drop off a bottle of wine on your porch on my way to work? I work the night shift again.

hmmmm I don’t think i’m supposed to give my address to strangers

but i’m pretty sure if you were going to kill me you would’ve done it by now

See you’re getting the hang of it.

okay i’ll give you my address

but if there’s a bomb we’re going to have words

If there’s a bomb you’ll be dead.

Tuesday 4:54 PM

red wine AND egg rolls?

if I didn’t know better i’d think you’re trying to woo me

I think I need to meet you before we can say that.

thank you!!!

my roomies are teasing me about taking wine from a stranger

You’re welcome. And I’m not a stranger. I know your name and where you live.

aaaaand way to make things creepy

BTW your blonde roommate was checking out my ass.

hahahahaha that’s izzie for you

she has a boyfriend don’t worry

I wasn’t too concerned about her, just thought you might want to beat her up or something.

intentionally trying to start a cat fight? classy

she says you’re “super dreamy” so that’s a plus

Glad to know I passed the checkpoint. Does this mean I get to meet you now?

maybe maybe not

we have learned one good thing though

And what’s that?

even if you are a serial killer, you have a good taste in wine and your attractive

i’ll die happy

Tuesday 7:32 AM

If I never work another overnight again it’ll be too soon.

yeah you’ve been working a lot of those

wtf is up with that

I lost a bet with Arizona.

oof that doesn’t sound fun

at least I have nice stable working hours

summers off

i’m living the dream

Why do you do that?

do what?

Send forty texts. There’s a button to put in a period and start a new sentence. In the same text.

you really do text like a 60 year old

I’m sophisticated, obviously.

I know we’ve never met but I need a favor

Oof. After I dropped off wine for you?

the favor includes free food and alcohol

I’m listening…

that wedding i’m in is next weekend

and I don’t have a date :-)

I wish I could, I’m going out of town.

booooo

it’s okay, after i’m done being a brides bitch my weekend will open up

i’ll also be done with school for year

So I can take you out on a proper date? Instead of texting you all day?

you do realize that you’re texting a girl who found your number at 11 pm while shit faced in a bar right

That’s always how I pictured meeting the woman of my dreams.

oh shut up

I suppose i’ll go on a date with you, man I know nothing about

I’m Alex, I’m 27 and I don’t think pineapple belongs on pizza

deal breaker sorry

pineapple + pizza = deliciousness

Well at least you know more about me.

that I do

jo, 25, who’s favorite color is purple and eats cinnamon toast for breakfast everyday, has to go educate the tiny humans

talk to you later old man

Oh come on you’re two years younger!

Tuesday 1:26 PM

have you ever had to hot glue rhinestones to candle votives

because I am

and I hate it

WTF is a votive?

those tiny little glass things you put a candle into

Oh. Why are you bedazzling them?

wedding prep

today is a half day so bridezilla has us crafting for her

Are all of you brides bitches teachers?

yes

it’s hell

you try to talk about your class and all you hear about is peonies and roses and baby’s breath

I’m glad I’m a dude then.

ha! you better be

oh my god, she’s gone psycho

if I don’t text she took my phone

Don’t die, I’m looking forward to our date.

Tuesday 7:17 PM

RIP Jo, Avid Cinnamon Toast Eater

Killed by Her Insane Bride Friend

I made it out!!!!

barely

Nice, I’ve heard a rabid bridezilla is hard to escape.

it was the worst

but she let me go when I told her I had to finish putting in grades for the year

(I finished last night)

I for one am proud of you. That’s badass.

lol i’ll keep that in mind

thursday is our last day before freedom

I think I might get shit faced as soon as I leave work

I support it wholeheartedly.

good because you’ll probably get more bar princess texts

Or if I’m lucky a phone call where you call me sexy again.

hey hey I didn’t call you sexy

I called your voice sexy

there’s a difference

Oh sorry, I don’t know how I overlooked that.

mhm sure

tomorrow is crazy hair day

Does this mean I get to see a picture of you? Because I’m definitely interested in seeing what you do with this spirit day thing.

i’ll save it for when we meet

I’m determined not to see you until our date

Suit yourself. Gotta go remove stitches.

oooohh how exhilarating!!

Wednesday 9:42 AM

How goes the crazy hair?

oh just dandy

half my hair is pink

You seem like the type to be able to pull of pink hair. Plus it’s pretty rad.

you’re too kind

I bribed the kids with cookies and a movie

i’m totally winning today

I just took out an appendix, I think I win.

just saying I don’t think that our jobs are comparable

but taking out an appendix sounds cool

Not as cool as cookies though.

I have a bunch left over

should I drop them on your doorstep?

Only if you want to. I wouldn’t say no to a good cookie. I’m here till 5.

i’ll stop by after work!!

we have another half day

Sweet. I’m glad you’re the one that found my number.

Wednesday 12:56 PM

Dude. George says you look like an adorable preschooler.

I FORGOT I HAD MY HAIR LIKE THIS

he was very understanding

Rave reviews on your “kindness and beautiful eyes”

oh my god

I have to die now

He might’ve mentioned your ass too. I’m painting a beautiful mental picture.

oh lord

brb gotta wash out this stupid hair dye

maybe bang my head against the shower wall

Oooh tell me more. I love a dirty shower fantasy.

oh booo

you’re not even trying anymore

Wednesday 5:55 PM

remember the titans is on tv

and it’s really good

in case you didn’t know

That movie is 20 years old, of course I know it’s good.

well clearly I didn’t

i didn’t have cable growing up

Oh neither did I, I just stole it from the neighbors.

that’s pretty bad ass for a kid

Had to keep my siblings entertained. You know how it is.

nope i’m an only child

That sounds like a dream. I have two younger siblings and they’re both a pain in the ass.

if you knew the half of it you’d be begging to trade places with me

I’m looking forward to hearing all of it.

Thursday 11:53 AM

FREEDOM!!!!!!

I AM FREE!!!!

HALLELUJAH!!!!!

I’m assuming school is out?

Y E S

$20 says I can sneak out of here without bridezilla roping me into a stupid arts and crafts project

I hope so, I’m enjoying talking to you today.

aren’t you at work??

Nope. Today is my day off.

and you’re not watching baseball and drinking beer?

It’s not even noon yet.

time is an illusion

it’s shots o clock somewhere or whatever they say

I’m now learning that the only cultural education you have is the Backstreet Boys. I think our second date will have to be a movie marathon.

already planning our second date?

ambitious

I like it

My conversation is fairly limited if I can’t drop a pop culture reference or two during the day.

I can see your points and i’m willing to sit myself down and watch the classics

okay gotta sneak past bridezilla… wish me luck

Good luck

Thursday 4:35 PM

Pork shoulder, corn, and potatoes all on the grill.

i’m jealous

I can’t cook to save my life

thank god we’re going out tonight

To celebrate finally breaking free for the summer?

exactly!! steph and izzie decided we needed to go to a club after dinner

i’ve never been to one before

Overpriced drinks and random guys grinding up on you all night. Not the best experience.

oh so random guys grind on you when you go out?

Shut up.

hahahaha

I’ve never even been to a club before. Not my scene. I just live with women so I know these things.

well i’ll update you on the happenings

let you know if I have to pay $20 for a drink

who’s grinding on my ass

you know normal everyday things

Woah woah woah.

what??

are you jealous??

I’m just saying if you’re gonna be shaking your ass, you might as well get random guys to buy you overpriced drinks.

you’re making some very good points

Of course I am. By the way, George wants me to tell you that you have a very shakeable ass so you should be taking in free drinks.

great I have to go die again

brb gonna drOWN MYSELF IN THE SHOWER

Thursday 10:38 PM

good news

i’ve secured three free drinks and a round of shots for all six of us

this ass is making money baby

I’ve created a monster. Who else is there?

steph, izzie, april, maggie, and levi

You brought the whole staff out didn’t you?

yes and I’m quite skilled at getting them drunk

You’re three drinks in and still texting correctly?

I think I danced it all off

need more fireball

And that’s another thing. Who willingly shoots Fireball?

me bitch

Ohh I love it when you call me names.

mmm i’m sure you do

okay i’m gonna go get more drinks

wish me luck

Good luck, I’m sure your ass will take in more than enough.

Thursday 11:57 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Helloo?”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“I can afford caller ID, I knew it was you.”

“Were you sleeping?”

“No, I was about to head upstairs but I’m not tired.”

“Oh good. I just got home.”

“You sound tired. Did you have fun?”

“It was nice, Steph went home with some guy she met and Izzie went to her boyfriends so I’m home alone.”

“So you decided to call me?”

“I missed your voice, I told you that you have a nice voice.”

“You said that I have a sexy voice.”

“Oh shut up. I wanted to call before I went to sleep.”

“You’ve grown fond of me haven't you?”

“If you’re gonna say it like a weirdo then yes… I have grown fond of you, Snow White.”

“I guess I can say the same about you Bar Princess. Are you yawning over there?”

“Just a little bit, but I like talking to you.”

“It’s midnight, I wouldn’t blame you for falling asleep.”

“I don’t wanna fall asleep, I wanna keep talking to you.”

“How about I tell you the story of the time I was bridesman and I had to go to a bachelorette party?”

“Okay I’m listening…”

Friday 10:15 AM

I feel like a teenager

who the hell falls asleep on the phone

i’m in a bad rom com aren't I

Your snoring is really cute.

oh christ

well at least I didn’t take body shots off a male stripper

I was really hoping you’d be asleep before I got to that part.

oh nooo I remember that very clearly

i’ll be filing that away for blackmail

Rude. I guess I’ll save your snoring in that file too.

touché, I like the way you play the game

I’m an experienced player. Gotta go scrub in on a fundoplication.

have fun!!!

Friday 2:41 PM

I got bored and googled a fundoplication

that’s some crazy stuff, you’re kind of a badass

Easy peasy, all in a day's work.

nooo that’s amazing stuff!!

i’m in my classroom scraping gum and glitter off of the desks

Well you’re the reason people become doctors so I'd say you’re pretty important too.

awww you’re still trying to impress me

it’s a good look on you

I’m trying to be a gentleman. Maybe I’ll bring up your puke shoes just to be an asshole.

you know what even the mention of that can’t bring down my good mood

do you think I could get in trouble for drinking wine in my classroom?

Well there’s no kids around so… no. But I like the rebellious attitude you have towards the situation.

if i’m gonna sit in a classroom with no AC and scrape boogers off desks all day then I deserve some damn wine

You’re right and you should say it.

I DESERVE MY WINE I EARNED IT

oh shit maggie is outside i’m so fired

Hey you got her free shots last night, she should be thankful.

you know what you’re right

oh shit it’s bridezilla

Run.

whew

forgot we have our final dress fitting tomorrow

i’m not dead yet

Oh good. I kinda don’t want the first time I see you to be your funeral.

hahaha very funny

gotta go, we have to do this stupid year end meeting

I hate it here

Have fun, and remember don’t stab yourself with a pen!

Saturday 8:13 AM

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING

I wanna die

bridezilla is making us jog

and she took away my donuts

Saturday 9:53 AM

Jesus Christ. You need new friends.

honestly she’s not that bad when she’s not stressing over this wedding

she’s crying because she has a pimple

Oof that’s a tough run. Unfortunately, I have to spend the day out on a boat.

boohoo I don’t not feel bad for you

unless like… you have some childhood trauma from a boat

Nope. I get to relax and drink beer all day long.

yeah well then screw you

I have to try my stupid dress on and go to a stupid lunch and I CAN’T EVEN HAVE DONUTS

Aren’t you at home?

yes, steph invited everyone here since we have the space

why?

Check your porch.

YOU BROUGHT ME DONUTS?!

you’re my favorite

thank you thank you thank you

You’re welcome, I’m happy to be of service.

ohhhh I might just kiss you when we finally meet

I wouldn’t say no to that.

okay I gotta go hide in the closet and eat my donuts

thank you for thinking of me!!

It’s all I ever do.

Saturday 2:16 PM

How goes the dress trying on?

it was good!! mine fits and we have a beautiful bride on our hands

Good. I’m glad your day is getting better. I think I’m getting a sunburn.

you better not

that shit is dangerous

go find sunscreen

Now you’re concerned about me huh?

always

did you put the sunscreen on

Yes because I knew you’d spontaneously implode if I didn’t.

good

I didn’t want to you to burst into flames sitting in the sun

As a doctor, I can tell you that most likely would not be what happened.

now we have to sit through a boring ass lunch

it’s what the mother of the groom insists on

Is she paying for it though? …. yes

Well then stop complaining.

okay okay fine

hey quick question

which fork do i stab myself with

Go order a steak and drink an expensive glass of wine.

Saturday 10:39 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Well well well, how the tables have turned.” “Bar Priiiiiincessss.” “Oh my god. This is so going in the blackmail file.”

“No don’t do that. If Jo finds out I was singing to another girl she’ll be mad.” “And why don’t you want Jo to be mad at you?” “Because I want to kiss her. And hug her. And see her face.”

“Well do I have a surprise for you.” “Oh I love surprises!”

“Jo and Bar Princess are the same person. I’m Jo.” “Holy crap! NO way!”

“Yes way, isn’t that crazy?”

“Can you tell Jo that she’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.” “I will relay the message. Jo is going to bed now though. Goodnight Alex.” “Good night Bar Princess, I miss you!”

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fan fiction #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #INFJTT

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timelock97 · 5 years ago

Text

Love Without A Name

Chapter Four: A Bottle of Wine and Friendly Banter

Word Count: 1686

Masterlist

Warning: Language, Sexual references

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

“Why did I invite you people over again?” I groan as I set the bowl of popcorn, chocolate, and chips onto the coffee table, glancing at the five people sitting around the room. “I’m supposed to be packing what’s left of my apartment.”

Celine reaches out for the bottle of wine that is haphazardly tucked under my arm, giggling. “Because you have to go over what is left of your to-do list for the wedding and needed people to talk to?”

Mae rolls her eyes and grabs a Capri-Sun from off the coffee table, locking eyes with me. “I think we were supposed to help, but more people showed up and brought food, movies, and alcohol. So those plans flew out the window?”

Alicia laughs, her back pressed against Graham’s side while they attempt to share a bean bag chair. “I think you needed the night off anyways, (Y/N).”

“Agreed, you seem to be a little stressed,” Graham nods, leaning forward as Celine fills his glass. “So, let’s all sit and watch these rom-coms and drink wine.”

I roll my eyes, noticing Vivian, who has returned from the bathroom, go to grab the wine bottle out of Celine’s hand. “Oh, no way in hell are you having another glass, Vivian. I don’t have an extra bed for you to crash on.” I tease, plopping down between Celine and Mae, my best friends.

“I only had a glass from the last one!” Vivian laughs from her spot, reaching for the wine anyways before taking her previous place in the arm chair. “Besides, Wyatt and I have drank more before and only get a little tipsy-”

“That’s because you guys have a high tolerance,” Celine giggles, her legs falling across my lap.

“‘Tisn’t a bad thing,” Vivian giggles.

Mae leans over and grabs the list off the table, “Okay, how about we go over that list so you can relax for the night, yeah?”

“Hit me!” I yell, letting out a squeal when Graham, Vivian, and Celine all throw pillows at me. “Guys I have a glass in my hand with red wine, that could have ended horribly! I still can get back my deposit for keeping the apartment in tip-top shape!”

“But it didn’t, did it. Plus, you told us to hit you so it’s your fault.” Celine giggles beside me, letting out a small 'hey’ when I push her legs off of my lap, only for her to replace them in their previous place.

“Fuck off, Cel.”

“Okay,” Mae states shaking the paper to straighten it out in her hands. “Catering?”

“Called this morning,” Celine states, making me laugh.

“Florist?”

“Taken care of,” I hum.

“Dress, including the latest fitting?”

“Bought and had my first fitting a two months ago. I have another fitting next week to do final fixes.” I state smiling at Mae.

“Wait, wait, can I see your dress, (Y/N)? Please, please, pleeeeeeeease?” Graham whines, folding his hands together and pouting his lip.

Giggling, I grab my phone off the table, also seeing that he had texted me a simple '2 more weeks, my love.’ I open the photo gallery and click on the latest photo of my wedding gown. The gown was not something I ever thought I’d wear. Tea cup length, with lace covering my chest and waist. The sleeves were off the shoulder, causing a straight neckline, and went down just below the elbow. The skirt was fluffy, and soft, the perfect fit for a late spring/early summer wedding.

“Baaaaaabe! You look stunning-”

“That looks beautiful on you, (Y/N)!” Alicia coos, taking the phone from Graham’s hand.

“What are you going to do for shoes?” Graham asks excitedly, bringing his glass to his lips.

“Not heels,” I giggle, “I want to be able to walk the next day.”

“Who went with you?”

Both Celine and Mae’s hands pop into the air. “Yeah, these two came with me. Also, both of their mom’s and Mae’s little sister Joyce. It,” I take the chance to swallow the lump that attempts to form in my throat before continuing, “it really meant a lot for them to come since my mom… wouldn’t.” The room is silent for a few seconds, they knew, and it had been hard not to call my family in excitement, or in some cases annoyance, whenever something happened.

Mae’s hand falls on my shoulder, squeezing it under her petite hand. “We were happy to be there, and you can thank Joyce for finding the dress-”

I let out a laugh, “Chose the complete opposite of what I was looking for-”

“But still looked beautiful!” Celine smiles, leaning into my side. “Now, back to the list!”

“Right!” Mae shakes the paper again, “legal stuff? (Y/N), what does that even mean?”

“I had to do a shit ton of paper work since I would be leaving the country. It was a mess.”

“You’re gonna come back, right? Visit all your favorite people?” Graham asks, tilting his head to the side while swirling the wine in his glass.

“Oh yeah, I can’t just leave and pretend I don’t have anyone here. It would drive me insane!” I bring my glass to my lips, sweet but tart sliding past my tongue, staining it red. “I’ll try and plan when I am coming so we can all get together again.”

“It’ll be a party,” Mae smiles, looking back at the list before pursuing her lip and looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “The next few are not in your handwriting-”

“Hazel,” I groan, tilting my head back against the couch in annoyance, “she asked to look at my list and said she added a few things before I left on Friday. What did she add?”

“Uh, and this is a quoted phrase, 'a day to find your sexiest self, lingerie that make you look like a beautiful, but boss ass bitch,’ and,” her eyes squint at the paper in confusion, “'a bottle of lu-” My eyes fly open and I snatch the paper from Mae’s hands, crumpling it and throwing it across the room.

“She’s a savage!” Vivian cackles as the group laughs as I give Mae an apologetic smile.

Celine lets out a soft, high-pitched hum, downing the last bit of her wine. Her hand is in the air as if to tell me to 'hold up a sec.’ She sets her glass down before standing, “That reminds me! I have something for you in my bag!”

“What did I get myself into?” I yell, looking at where her retreating body danced down to my room where everyone’s personal belongings had disappeared to when they first arrived. “And you remember that this bean is a virgin right?”

Celine comes bounding into the room with a single, long clothing box. “I had the luxury to be given the job of finding this. Hazel says she has a surprise for you too, but you won’t get it till another day. So, you can start with these pieces- oh, and I had Vivian help me find them too-”

“You’re welcome!”

My eyes look between everyone else in the room, who are looking at me expectedly. I sigh, a small laugh escaping at the end. I untie the gold ribbon and unravel the box. Once opened, my laughter grows a little louder. The card, that is definitely in Celine’s handwriting, says “IOU a soon-to-be favorite set of lingerie.” I pull the tissue paper away, only to replace it with a beet red face, “I am not wearing this-”

“C'mon, pull it out-” Celine giggles, her phone in hand, most likely recording.

“No way in hell, there isn’t even any fabric! It’s just all, strings!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Alicia looks at me. I raise an eyebrow at her before sighing and lifting the piece out, making the room fill with gasps and laughter.

“It’s not even-”

“What is that?!”

“How do you get that even on?!”

“That won’t even cover you-”

“Ya’ll need instructions to put that damn thing on-”

Once the laughter dies down, Celine shakes her head, “That’s not it, by the way.” A small 'thank God’ falls past my lips, “That was a gimmick. I asked the lady for something to prank you with, did it work?”

“I fucking hate you!” I laugh, throwing the ribbons at her. She only giggles and motions me to continue looking in the box. At the bottom is a silk robe, it probably only reached just below the butt, but it was light and soft to the touch. I turn it in my hands and notice the golden embroidered initials. The first and middle letters were mine but the second was marked with an H. “H?”

Celine tilts her head in confusion. “What?” She tugs the robe from my hand and gasps. “They weren’t supposed to put on the last initial! Hazel is gonna kill me!”

“Not if she doesn’t know! I won’t tell her!” I reason with a small smile.

“You had one job,” Graham laughs.

“It’s not my fault they didn’t listen to me!”

“It’s fine, babes.” I giggle, taking the robe back from her and smiling at it. “I love it.”

“Try it on, (Y/N)!” Graham states, Alicia nodding.

I giggle as I take it back from Celine, standing. I tug the oversized sweatchirt I was wearing over my head before replacing it with the robe. The room filling with soft gasps and 'ooos’. “God, I love this. Guys,” I look around the room, bringing my hands to my face to cover my smile. “I’m getting married!” The room fills with cheers, everyone giggling. I sigh, shrugging off the fabric and laying it over the arm of the couch. “How about we switch gears and we go get dinner, then we can go and, I don’t know, go to PetSmart and play with puppies.”

“I’ll drive, since everyone has had at least a little bit of wine,” Mae laughs.

The group smiles excitedly, moving slowly around to get ready to leave. Thank God for these dorks, he knows I would be lost without them.

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment!

Chapter Five coming Thursday!

#cg writes #love without a name #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #strangers to lovers #arranged marriage #husband!tomholland

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