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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Possession - Choso ft. Geto

Choso-nii is sweet in his own ways, we have to admit lol this is a non-curse uhmmmm I know Choso is literally like 150yrs old but just so we ALL KNOW: reader is 18+, and femme reader

Content warningssss: infantilization + dumbification, incest, slimy best friend Geto, dubcon, praise, dacryphilia, light choking, degradation, manipulation/gaslighting(i’m not sure which is the proper term for this situation so im just putting both)

Choso was lucky, being the oldest of all the siblings. He had the most life experience, the most time out of all of you to try things out and get shit right. Growing up, he tried to be there for you but he was often much too busy to dedicate the time and effort needed to properly foster a relationship.

Irregardless of that, you still looked up to him and sought him out whenever you could. Hanging out with him in little increments, somehow squeezing in alone time with just the two of you. It was no easy task with as many brothers as you had, but you managed to steal away a precious few seconds with him when you could.

Which is why when Choso moved out, you were utterly devastated. It felt like just yesterday he was helping you pick groceries for a big family hot pot and then the next he was packing boxes and moving into a trendy studio downtown to pursue an art and fashion career.

When he left with the final box you blubbered like a baby, not wanting to be comforted by him because it would only make you miss him more. It hurt him too to see you like that and to know that he could have prevented it if he just simply stayed, but he wasn’t about to hold himself back just to keep the bandaid on a little longer.

As the months ticked by, it agonized you to be left without him. Sure you had your other brothers and you loved them just as much, but it wasn’t the same without him. You texted and called Choso and made sure he kept up with the sibling group chat, but there wasn’t much you could do otherwise.

Until one fateful day, the power went out at the house over the weekend. The maintenance man had told your parents it wouldn’t be on until Monday morning and you were far too quick to snatch up the chance to be the one person that got to go to Choso’s.

“Choso-nii!” You were absolutely buzzing as you threw open the door with the spare key he had left at the house. Finally, finally, you got to see where he lived and spend more time with him. You hadn’t gotten the chance to go to his place yet despite how long it’d been since he moved out; he always said he was too busy working on a project or that he was out too late to entertain you.

Your shoulders dropped dramatically when you realized he wasn’t home. Dragging your small suitcase through the door, you let the disappointment hang on your face at being all alone. Taking your shoes off, you stepped onto the frigid hardwood and took a look around.

His place was modest, he wasn’t a starving artist but he couldn’t afford the large lofts you saw online. Immediately to your left was his small kitchen with only one full sized counter to speak of, to your left was a bathroom covered in slate gray tiles and no bathtub, and in front of you was his living room.

“He decorated pretty well.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the room. There’s a tiny desk facing the wall shoved into the corner with his computer on top, a decently sized couch next to it and a coffee table with coffee ring stains on it. There’s an area rug your mother got him and hanging on the walls is multiple pieces of art he’d acquired. He’d shown you some when you last video called and all of them were beautiful.

Walking past the mounted TV and gaming consoles he kept was a space divided from the living room with a slatted wood wall. Right behind the wall was his bed, messily covered in blood red blankets, pillows and crumpled sheets. It was probably the biggest piece of furniture in the apartment, and the rest of the room was covered in posters and housed his clothes on open hangers.

Making yourself comfortable, you waited eagerly on the couch for him to come home. You’d already whined through text at him, berating him for not being here to greet you. With the promise of a large takeout meal when he got home, you could only sit and twiddle your thumbs.

“Choso-nii!” Leaping from the couch as the door opened, you were ready to pounce on your brother and smother him in a hug.

“Hey.” He replied gruffly and you stopped short at the looming shadow still behind him. Your smile fell when a man walked in behind him, long inky black hair tied up into a loose bun and a wide stature that made you nervous.

“Hi.” The way his low voice stretched into a higher pitch as he wiggled his long fingers at you, the sleeve of his hoodie dipping down to reveal scrawling black tattoos against his skin, had a shiver going through you.

“H-hi.” Your voice was tiny compared to his and it made him chuckle. Your eyes weren’t even on Choso anymore, glued to the man who was now smiling at you with his eyes half closed.

“How was the trip here?” Choso is suddenly right in front of you, cutting off your line of sight and pulling you into a hug you quickly reciprocate to ease your mind. Your fingers dig into the soft material of his jacket and you can smell a faint trace of nicotine on him.

“It was fine, mom drove me to the station.”

“Good, good.” All too soon he pulled away, rubbing your head affectionately before turning to the guest he’d brought. “This is my friend Geto, we do business together in the fashion district.”

“Ah, this must be the little sister you told me about!” Geto’s brows rose and he let out a pleased hum. “Hi little sister, I’m Geto Suguru.” The way he called you little sister made your face burn, it was like he was mocking you.

“Tell him your name.” Choso grunted and nudged your shoulders.

“I’m (Y/N)...” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes dropped to a spot on the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Sliding closer Geto pat your shoulder lightly. “You can call me Geto-nii.” Your eyes widen and snap up to look at him, clearly surprised a stranger would be so casual already. “I want us to get closer, afterall we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I’m one of your brother's best friends.”

“Uhm, o-okay.” Nodding quickly, you meet his dark eyes for a moment before looking at the piercings on his ears. “It’s nice to meet you too, Geto-nii.”

“Hey, what do you want for delivery?” Choso huffs from the couch. He’s surprisingly hands off with your interaction, not even looking at the way Geto sizes you up or how his fingers are close to closing in on your wrist.

“What is there?” Rushing to the couch, you practically fall right into Choso’s lap and nuzzle into his shoulder to look at his phone. Geto stands right where you left him for a moment, taking in the sight of you cuddling up to your brother so closely, before he slinks away into the bathroom.

“Wow, that came so quickly!” Twenty minutes later you’re seated on the floor, pressed against the coffee table as you marvel at how fast the delivery came. “At home it takes at least forty-five minutes!”

“That’s what you get for living in the sticks.” Choso teases, a small uptick to his mouth as he brings the food to the table.

“Shut up!” Puffing out your cheeks, you look up at the game Geto is playing. It’s some online multiplayer shooting game you hadn’t bothered to catch the title of, but the flashing lights and the way Geto got so worked up had you intrigued.

“Fuck yeah, foods here.” Taking a quick glance down, Geto abandoned the game quickly. Tossing the controller onto the couch, he walked to the fridge and dug around. “Choso, beer?”

“Yeah.” He called back, digging out the contents of the bag and spreading it out across the table.

“Did you get me a-” Right as you were about to ask, Choso placed a cold can of soda in front of you.

“Yup.”

“Aw (Y/N), you don’t drink beer?” Geto whined, plopping down across from you with a pout. Handing a tall can to Choso, he cracked open his own and frowned slightly when you shook your head no. “Have you ever tried it?”

You could feel your brother's eyes looking right at you, curious to know the answer too. The truth was, you had experimented with both liquor and weed but you never told Choso. He always warned you not to get into any of that stuff.

“No.” Your cheeks burned as you lied and Choso’s eyes narrowed; he could tell you were lying and the curt sigh that left his lips was evidence enough.

“Really, never? Take a sip then.” Sitting up a little straighter, Choso opened his can and held it out to you.

“No thanks.” Trying to push the can away, you avoided both Choso’s narrowed gaze and Geto’s smirk.

“No go ahead, I insist.” He held the can out staunchly. “Your first time should be with me anyway.” That made your face even hotter and you hung your head, a whine threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“I don’t like it.”

“Hm, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?” Geto added, knowingly stirring the pot and hiding his wide smirk behind his beer can.

“I just do!” With a huff your head shot up and you looked at both of them.

“Try it.” Choso said firmly, his eyes now wide and unblinking at you. The whine you’d tried to hold back came out and your shoulders bounced up and down as you spoke.

“I don’t want to, I’ve already tried that kind and I don’t like it!” There, now it was out in the open for everyone to know. Your head dropped again but you could see the way Geto bit his lip hard to stop himself from giggling.

“I thought I told you not to get mixed up with that stuff.” Sighing softly, Choso took a long sip from his beer can and the silence that hung between you was heavy, at least on your end. Your shoulders sagged and you picked up your plate.

“Sorry.” Your voice was so pitiful it made Geto coo.

“What’s done is done.” Choso shrugged and began to dish himself up. “Next time you wanna do that stuff though, come to me.”

“Yeah, your big brothers will make sure you have a great time.” Lightly tapping the table, Geto grinned widely. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he turned on some music. “Now let's eat, I’m starving!”

The air between you and Choso was stilted. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with you, he’d made sure to tell you when he caught you pouting over your food. He just wished you’d come to him first, but you couldn’t help but see past it. Choso was hurt he wasn’t your first choice, and even though he didn’t vocalize it his actions showed it.

“Hey (Y/N), come and play with me.” After dinner Geto had flopped back down onto the couch, his stomach bloated with a food baby.

“Uhm, okay.” Taking a quick glance at Choso who was sitting down at his computer, you nodded. Taking a seat a good few inches away from Geto you picked up the other controller.

“Why’re you so far away, I won’t bite!” He laughed, quickly discarding the thick hoodie he’d been wearing. Your eyes were drawn to the heavy black and grey traditional Japanese tattoos going up and down both of his arms, stopped only by the t-shirt he had on.

“Your tattoos are really cool.” Unable to take your eyes away, you slid closer to him on the couch, body dipping on the cushions as you leaned close to examine them.

“You like them? I have more, lemme show you.” Off came Geto’s shirt and you gasped loudly. He had a whole bodysuit going on, large pops of color on his chest and shoulders going down his sides and disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Woah, these are so cool!” You couldn’t hide how impressed you were. Your hands ghosted over his skin, drinking in the intricate designs etched permanently into his body along with the rippled muscles underneath his skin.

“Does my little sister have any tattoos?” Geto asked, letting his hair out of its bun and letting the strands fall around his shoulders.

“No.” Choso answers for you, not taking his eyes away from his computer.

“Yeah, I don’t have any yet.”

“That’s a shame, I think you’d look really pretty with some ink.” Running a hand through his hair so he could flex his arm, Geto flicked his chin towards Choso. “I’ve been trying to get this guy to come to my shop to get some work done too.”

“Choso-nii, you should get a tattoo!” After seeing Geto’s you were hooked.

“Hm.” He grunted, casting you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “What should I get?”

“Get something like this!” You gestured towards Geto and Choso finally turned around away from his computer to look fully at you.

“You really think I’d look good with all that?”

“Yes!”

“Ah you heard her, Choso! I’ll book you a consultation with my artist, he’s a great guy.”

“Alright…” Choso’s eyes lingered on Geto for a little while longer before he turned back to his computer. “Sign me up then.” Letting out a victorious little sound, Geto tugged his shirt back on and picked up his controller again.

“Alright, let’s play now.”

It was safe to say that the kinds of games Geto and your brother played were much harder than the ones you played at home. There were far too many character controls to memorize and the speed at which you had to press the buttons was too fast and it hurt your fingers after a while.

“Geto-nii, I don’t like this!” You groaned, slumping against him and the couch cushions as you lost another round of the online game.

“Poor baby, is it too difficult for you?” Geto pouted at you and pat your thigh. Choso had slipped a pair of headphones on, oblivious to the way Geto was speaking to you.

“It is.”

“Here, we’ll go do a practice round and I’ll teach you how to play.” Flicking through the options, Geto found what he was looking for. “Your little brain just needs to take things slow.”

“S’not little.” Pushing his shoulder with a huff, your cheeks burned as he laughed. “Your games are just stupid.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Drawing out the y, Geto loaded up a practice game and hooked his arm around your shoulders, putting his hands over yours on the controller. “Now just try to remember how I do it.”

His arms tightened around you, pushing your chest nearly flush with his as Geto pushed and pulled your fingers insanely fast, pulling off stilted combo moves with your hands. You could barely keep up with what was happening on screen let alone the buttons he was pushing.

“You think you got it?” His mouth was now right against your ear, his voice a low and rumbling whisper. A tiny, strangled noise comes from the back of your throat and Geto can feel you tense up slightly. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you all night if I have to.”

Chuckling darkly, his lips ghost along the ridge of your ear before starting up another game. Your face is on fire and Geto knows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body much stronger than it was before. The subtle shift of your thighs and the way they squeeze together isn’t lost on him, and it only makes him draw you deeper into his lap until you’re sitting pretty on his stretched out legs, head nestled gently on his shoulder while you try in vain to keep up with him.

“Alright I sent the final sketch to Gojo and-” Choso tosses his headphones off and turns around, body stretching and extending up and out, bones cracking and popping loudly in his ears. He stops speaking, gravelly voice suddenly caught in his throat when he sees the two of you together.

It’s been so long since he’s been cuddled up to you like that that the sight of you in his best friend's lap like that makes his mind go blank. Cuddled up with another man, you’re not even playing the game anymore, having given up a long time ago just to simply watch and lightly nap while you wait for your brother to give you attention again.

“Hm? Oh, that’s great.” Geto replies, giving a quick glance to Choso and then to the clock on the wall. “Fuck it’s already 2am? I missed the last train.”

“You know it’s not a big deal for you to crash here.” Choso shrugs and begins to turn off some of the lights that are beginning to burn his eyes. He can’t stand to look at you any longer or the creeping jealousy in his chest will bubble to the surface.

“Choso-nii…” With a big sleepy inhale you arch your back off Geto, pushing your weight into your hips as you stretch and rub your eyes.

“I shoulda had you get ready for bed earlier, you must be beat.”

“Mhmm.” Nodding sleepily, you stand up with help from Geto, his hands placed low on your hips and fingers splayed out on your body. “I’ll be quick.” Shuffling to your suitcase, you take out your sleeping clothes and bathroom essentials before blindly walking to his bathroom.

You can hear a low murmur in the living room as Choso and Geto also get ready for bed. There’s a few chuckles, and you hear Choso snap at Geto for something, and they’re definitely saying your name at parts, but by the time you come out the conversation is done and over with.

“Come sleep with me, little sister!” Geto calls from the couch where he’s set up a makeshift bed and taken all his clothes off except his underwear. There’s a blanket not yet put over his body right next to him, and your eyes are staring right at the tattoos that dip under his waistband and finish on his ankles.

“C’mere.” Choso huffs, snatching your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. Your eyes follow Geto as you walk and you can feel the way he stares right at your bare thighs in your sleeping shorts.

Pushing you onto the bed, Choso climbs in after, flicking off the last light left on and engulfing everyone in a shroud of darkness and city light peeking through the curtains. Frustrated, Choso tosses and turns in the bed and throws the blanket around both of you.

“Goodnight.” You say loud enough for Geto to hear.

“Good night little sister.” He calls back.

“Yeah, night.” Choso grunts and finally slaps his head against the pillows before stilling completely. Slowly, you slide your body closer and closer to him, the touch of your fingers to his bare chest making you shiver.

“I love you, Choso-nii.” You whisper in his ear, wrapping your arms around him and curling a leg right against his sweatpants.

“Love you too.” It takes him a few seconds too long to reply but when he does it makes a delighted grin spread across your face. Hooking an arm around your back he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and squeezing you tightly before loosening up. “Now go to sleep.”

Sleep comes easily to you, after all you’re in the arms of your brother that you love so much. You used to sleep with him when he still lived at home, crawling in at night after you’d been forced to watch a scary movie and cuddling into him. He could never say no to you even if he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out, he always made time to cuddle you.

Choso was having a much harder time going to sleep. He remembers what it was like sleeping in the same bed at home and he doesn’t remember it being this much of a problem. Sure, he woke up with a half hard cock some mornings that he was able to force away before you woke up, but somehow this felt different.

You were at his house not at the family home. There were no other brothers to barge in and demand breakfast, no parents to poke and prod at him to get up and go to work - this was his space, somewhere he had complete control over and could do whatever he wanted and that included fantasizing about rubbing your ass while you slept and touching himself.

Eventually forcing himself to sleep, Choso was thankful when he woke up to the sound of his alarm and no hard cock. Blindly turning it off, he stretched as much as he could with your body laying on half of him. Slowly inching out of your hold he was greeted with the slimy, sticky feeling of cum soaking the insides of his thighs and smeared along his sweats creating a big wet patch on the front.

“Someone had a nice dream.” Geto said quietly into the early morning darkness. He could just barely make out Choso’s cum stained pants as he walked past the couch and into the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up.” Choso bit back, ears burning red. Geto fell back onto the couch with a soft laugh under his breath.

When you woke up it was well after Choso had left. The digital clock he used flashed bright red numbers at your bleary eyes, telling you it was now ten in the morning. The bed was cold on the side Choso slept on but you rolled over anyway and breathed in the scent of his pillow.

“Oh my god.” When you got up and out of the bed you weren’t expecting to see Geto still in the apartment on the couch in his underwear wrapped up loosely in a blanket.

“Good morning, sleepy girl.” He hummed over a cup of black coffee, his long hair still tussled from sleep.

“Where’s Choso-nii?” You fidgeted with your fingers, looking anxiously around the room for a hint that he was still here.

“He had to go in early for a project, it’s just you and me.”

“O-oh.” A sickening grin spread across Getos face the longer you fidgeted. “Uhm, I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Rushing past him, you tugged your sleeping shirt down, attempting to hide the goosebumps rising on your thighs.

“I’ll make breakfast!” He called out, helping himself to Choso’s kitchen. You took as long as you could in the bathroom, waiting until he was done cooking to come out. “Hope you like eggs, little girl, because that’s all I know how to make.”

Taking the plate from him, you let Geto place his hand on your lower back and guide you to the couch. The TV was turned on low to some random morning news talking about the weather, and Geto’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time you ate.

“Thank you for the food.” You said quickly, standing just as fast and going to the kitchen sink. Cleaning up the few dishes left out, you gasped and nearly jumped out of your skin feeling Geto press against your back.

His hands come to rest against the countertop, trapping you between it and him. His broad chest pushed against your back making you bend to accommodate the added weight, pushing your ass into his growing cock.

“G-geto-nii?” Another gasp came from you as his lips pressed against your ear, skimming around it and the sound of his breathing ringing in your head. Planting a soft kiss behind your ear, one of his hands came up to grab your jaw.

“You really are such a cute little sister, you know that?” Bringing your head back and up, Geto kisses your cheek a few times. His fingers splay downwards, grabbing onto a bit of your throat as he kissed the corner of your lips.

Squeezing your eyes shut, a little whimper comes from the back of your throat when he kisses your lips and forces your mouth open with his fingers. Getos tongue slides in effortlessly, like you’d invited him in and told himself to make your mouth his new home. Gliding his tongue over your teeth, his coffee flavored saliva started to drip down the corner of your mouth.

Beating a fist against the counter as you start to get too lightheaded, you’re gasping for air when he lets you fall back, crumpling to the countertop with ragged breathing. Smoothing a hand down your back, Geto goes down past the hem of your sleeping shorts and pushes his hand up under them.

“Geto-nii!” Curling your fingers into the granite, a loud squeal erupts from your chest and you force your body upright.

“Such a perfect fucking ass.” Geto groans, groping your flesh hard. “And no panties? Who knew you were so naughty while you slept.”

“M’not- not naughty!” You pout, turning over your shoulder and shaking your head at him.

“Such a naughty little sister I have.” Taking his hand out of your shorts, Geto lets you turn around and face him. Briefly biting his lip, Geto grabs you by the jaw again and kisses you, this time fully slotting his mouth against yours.

Immediately your hands fly back to catch yourself, the force of his kiss enough to almost make you fall over completely. The hand not holding your jaw snakes under your shirt and goes straight to your breast, giving it a rough squeeze that has your hands going to grip his upper arms.

“Sensitive, are we?” He pulls back slightly, licking his lips and yours and squeezing your breast again.

“It hurts.” Tilting your head back with a whine, your nails dig into his arms.

“Sshh sshh, you can take it, can’t you? Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“No.” A heavy pout is back on your lips, but you’re not sure it ever truly left. Geto’s brow quirks at your answer and he smirks.

“No? Why not? Is it because I’m not Choso?” He pauses and the silence that fills the air is all the answer he needs. “Didn’t I tell you last night I was your big brother now too? Hm?” As he speaks with slightly forced words his hand drops to the base of your throat and gets a tad tighter than you’re comfortable with.

“Y-yes but-”

“But nothing.” Geto cuts you off with a sharp press of his fingers against your pulse. Releasing your hold on his arms your hands fly up close to your throat, nerves on edge for what could happen next.

“Be a good little girl and let your big brother take care of you (Y/N).”

“But Choso-”

“Do you think Choso wants an inexperienced little baby who can’t handle having her tits groped a little?” Cocking his head to the side, Geto gives you a look. “Well, what do you think?” You’re at a loss for words and he can tell, a slight uptick to the side of his mouth when you lick your lips nervously.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Exactly, you don’t know. You don’t know any better, so just let Geto-nii take care of you. I’ll get you nice and ready for Choso, baby, don’t you worry.” Closing in on you once again, he kisses you softer this time, lets you ease into the feeling of his lips on yours.

He goes back to touching your breast just as hard as he was before, tugging on your nipple and making you cry out. You tried to tug his fingers off your nipple but it only made it hurt more. Bundling up Geto’s shirt in your hands, you stood against the counter and whimpered as he moved to the other breast.

“Aw, the poor baby’s crying.” He feels your tears on his face before he can see them and when he pulls back he laughs a little. A soft hiccup catches your throat and you unhinge your fingers from his shirt to wipe at the tears that are falling.

“Cause it hurts.” You mumble, a fresh wave of tears springing forth at the same time a warbled cry does as Geto palms both of your breasts roughly. Standing on your tip-toes you try to shimmy away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Who knew you were so sexy when you cry?” Geto isn’t really looking at you, he’s looking at the tears going down your cheeks. It’s making his cock harder by the minute and he leans forward and darts his tongue out, catching the salty stream and running his tongue up your cheek.

“Ew!” Jerking back with a cry, your hands pushing at his bare chest are useless to stop him. Kissing you right at the corner of your eye, Geto finally relents and stands up straight. Furiously wiping your face off, your lip curls in disgust at the feeling of his drying saliva on your cheek.

Planting a hand behind you, Geto shoves his other hand down your shorts. Cupping your sex in his palm, his fingers tentatively prod at your entrance and spread your lower lips with his fingers. His breathing is heavy and right in your ear, heavily entranced with touching your cunt.

Your legs spread of your own accord to let him find your clit easier. You’re still sniffling, a few tears are still welling in your eyes, but a heady feeling is taking over you. The smell of nicotine and a woody body wash roll off Geto in waves, filling the tight space between you and making you flush.

“What a perfect little cunt you have.” Geto groans, his fingers finally catching your clit and lightly pinching it.

“Geto-nii, please.” Your thighs clamp together around his hand when he does it again, the pleasure shooting up your spine almost painful.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Leaning his forehead against you, Geto shoves your legs open again and puts two fingers on your clit. He goes slow at first, savoring the feeling of touching your cunt. There’s a gentle buck to your hips every time he rolls his fingers just right and your fingers are back to gripping his shirt tightly.

Working up the wetness between your thighs, Geto goes down further and nudges your entrance, collecting the slick and bringing it back to your clit. He does this a few times until there’s a distinct wet sound in the air.

“Have you ever had fingers as big as mine in you?” He asks softly as he works his fingers into your cunt, the squeeze of your walls making his head spin.

“No.” That’s the truth and it makes you burn with shame. The only fingers that had been inside you as of late were your own, and even when it was someone else it wasn’t nearly like the stretch you were getting now.

“Right to the fucking knuckle.” Geto grunts, staring right down your shorts at his fingers buried inside you. “You’re so tight I’m surprised you took it all. What a good girl.” He presses a kiss to your temple and pulls his fingers out, stretching the fabric of your shorts as far as it’ll go.

Slamming them back in, Geto wastes no time in fucking you on his fingers. He’d been nice enough to go slow while he played with your clit, but he was tired of it now. He needed to feel your cunt clamp down on his fingers and see you lose yourself from just them alone.

Your mouth hung open dumbly, a gasp caught in your throat at the sudden change of pace. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you couldn’t get any words out as he pounded your cunt. The knuckles of his fingers rubbed against your clit with every stroke, making your legs twitch and threaten to collapse beneath you.

Your orgasm comes before you even know what’s happening, head falling forward and a loud moan finally spilling from your mouth. Grinding your hips down onto his fingers, a jolt goes through you when Getos thumb comes to rub your clit.

“What a good fucking little sister!” He all but cheers for you, grinding his hand on you and pushing in as far as he can to feel every inch of your spongy walls pulse around him. His chest swells with a bit of pride at getting you to cum and he withdraws from your shorts when you relax. Bringing his fingers up to your face, he spread your slick around his fingers. “Look at how messy you are.”

A muffled groan comes from him as he sticks his fingers into his mouth, savoring the flavor of your cunt and rutting against you slightly. It’s a taste he knows he’s now addicted to and his chest gets even bigger at being the first to taste you - something he’s going to hold over Choso’s head for ages.

Just as he’s cleaned his fingers and is about to shove his impossibly tight boxers off, Geto gets a phone call.

“Fuck, right now?” Gritting his teeth he leaves you to slump against the counter as he bounds over to the couch and grabs his phone. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck you!” He rants at his phone before straightening up and clearing his throat. “Hey, what’s up?”

The switch in his tone catches you off guard and your knees knock together when he looks over at you with scarily wide eyes. His nostrils flared as he listened to whoever spoke, he was clearly worked up and being interrupted wasn’t something he was taking lightly.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Hanging up his phone right after, Geto let it fall from his hands and clatter onto the floor. He didn’t speak any further, only letting out an angry and frustrated groan as he began to collect his clothes.

“What’s going on?” You whispered hesitantly, watching him quickly gather his hair into a bun.

“Fucking work. Fucking- ugh, stupid fucking creative director just had to call a god damn meeting. Doesn’t the bitch know I’m fucking busy?” Getting the last of his things, Geto nearly storms right past you but catches himself at the last moment. “Hey.”

“Hm?” You look at him just in time for him to plant a heavy hand on the back of your neck and kiss you one last time, hard enough to leave your head spinning.

“I got your number from Choso’s phone, make sure to text me back, little sister.” The words rush out of him as he pulls away and you barely understand them but nod all the same. Slipping his shoes on, Geto opens the door and turns to you one last time. “See you later, little sis.”

“B-bye Geto-nii.” You wave goodbye, cheeks flushing at the bright smile he sends you before slamming the door closed and running down the corridor.

It takes far too long for you to push yourself away from the counter after his footsteps have disappeared entirely. The realization of what just transpired hit you, a dull ache throbbing between your legs as you walked to the couch. Your chest tightened up at the memory of how Geto treated you and the feeling of his hands lingered on you.

Checking your phone, there’s a few messages waiting for you. One from your mother asking how your day was going, a few from your brothers and one from Geto.

(Geto): I miss your pretty pussy already little sis

Attached to the message is a picture that makes waves of embarrassed heat go over your body. It’s taken in a bathroom stall at the closest station, the harsh fluorescent lighting casting weird shadows on Getos body. But that’s not what your focus is on, not at all.

What you’re looking at is his hard cock, flushed a deep angry red at the tip and sticky with precum. Geto hiked his shirt up and shoved his pants down on his thighs, the selfie just catching the way his shirt is tucked into his teeth.

He sends you another message, a video this time with a dark thumbnail. You click on it with no hesitation, heart thumping loudly in your chest and ears ringing as the video comes to life.

“Fuck, look what you did to me baby girl.” Geto’s gruff voice is low and hushed, the sounds of other men coming in and out of the bathroom drowning out his soft groans. The camera is held from a down angle right by his head, directed straight at his hand working his cock over in his fist.

There’s a faint wet clicking sound and you can see the way Getos cock glistens in the light. With his mouth right by the receiver you can hear every little grunt and whimper that leaves his mouth and it makes your thighs clench together tightly, cunt aching to be filled by his fingers again.

The hard muscles of his stomach were shuddering with every downstroke, a slight rock to his hips beginning to take form the longer he went. Geto was very wound up, the playtime with his new little sister cut far too short.

“Wish it was you touching me, I’d cum so fast.” His words come out a hushed whisper and the camera shakes as he begins to really fuck his fist. “Just want your cute little mouth wrapped around me-” Geto’s voice was getting higher strung the more he spoke. “Your cunt felt so good around my fingers- want it- need it on my cock-”

Geto nearly dropped his phone as he came, angling his cock up so it shot onto his stomach, painting his tattooed skin in a sticky film of white. A long moan left him and you could practically see him squeezing his eyes shut tightly, fucking his fist through his orgasm until his cock started to get soft.

The video ends without anything else, screen turning black the second he lets go. You don’t realize how tightly your body has wound up from the video, thighs clenched tightly together and a breath caught in your chest.

(Geto): you like it? I bet you’re touching yourself right now, huh?

(Geto): I’m getting on the train now, hopefully Choso will let me come over again tonight after I tell him how good you taste

(Y/N): no don’t tell him!

You frantically send that message a few times but Geto doesn’t respond, just leaves you on read as soon as the message is sent. Despite the heat between your legs your heart starts to pound for a different reason, hands shaking with fear that Geto really will tell Choso what he did to you.

An hour has passed of you sitting on the couch stewing in worry and the sound of the door opening is what brings you out of your stupor and you almost fling your phone across the room in shame. Choso appears in the doorway with a somber expression on his face, giving you a long look as he toes his shoes off.

“Still in your pajamas I see.” He comments, voice low and even. You nod, still unable to speak with the image of Geto milking his cock still fresh in your mind. Walking further into his apartment Choso stifles a sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You avoid meeting his steeled gaze, instead focusing on your phone and trying to hide your guilty expression.

“Came home early, thought we could have some lunch together in a cafe before I head back.” Choso’s words are casual but his body language is anything but. With a tight jaw and arms crossed over his chest, you can tell he’s upset.

“What’s wrong?” Your blood begins to run cold as you ask and Choso scoffs, brow quirking in annoyance.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He’s staring directly at you with an unmistakable fire in his eyes. No air fills your lungs as you’re locked into staring back at him, but dread drips slowly down your back. Geto must have told him, that’s why he’s making that face.

“I-I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shaking your head, you move to stand. “I’ll go get changed.” Choso watches you almost run to the bedroom and once you’re there he makes his move.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” He leans his body against the wall, blocking you from leaving.

“I don’t!” Your voice is getting more defensive by the minute. “I have no idea, Choso-nii.”

“Did he tell you to lie? It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore little sister.” Walking chest to chest with you, Choso stares down his nose at you.

“I’m not lying!” You can feel yourself breaking down, the tension in the air enough to make a painful burning prick behind your eyes and tears threaten to mist your lashes.

“I thought you loved me? Yet you won’t tell me the truth.” Narrowing his eyes, Choso’s hands curl into fists. “Or do you love Geto-nii more now?”

“I don’t love him!”

“No, you must love him otherwise why would you let him touch you like that? Just tell me the fucking truth (Y/N), you care more about Geto now that he made you cum.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut up yes you do. I can’t believe you turned into a stupid little slut who lets anyone touch her.”

“Choso-nii!” Now tears are welling in your eyes the longer you look at him.

“Don’t call me that anymore, I don’t want a little sister like you anymore.” Those words stabbed you right in the heart and Choso could tell by the way a choked gasp came from you. “When I moved out you told me you’d wait for me but I guess that was a lie.”

“I’m sorry!” Tears are falling down your face with no remorse, snot starting to drip out of your nose as well. Gripping Choso’s hoodie in your hands, you refuse to let go as he gives you a hard push. “B-big brother, please!”

“Geto’s your big brother now, not me.”

“No, no he’s not! You are! You are and I love you and I’m sorry!” Bouncing your toes, you wrench your arms around his neck and force him against you. “I didn’t mean to- to do all that.” Choso manages to fling one of your arms off of him and you let out a screech. “No, please!”

“What a good act you’re putting up right now.”

“Big brother!” Burying your face into his hoodie, your nails are nearly clawing through the fabric to feel his skin underneath. “I-I’ll do anything, please don’t do this!”

“You’ll do anything? Is that what you told Geto?”

“No!” Pulling back with horribly blurry vision, you blink fat tears down your cheeks. As your gaze slowly focuses on Choso you’re met with his hollow blank expression. Your chest is heaving as you try to calm down, try to find some other words to say to convince him not to abandon you.

Face unbearably hot and mind clouded with emotion, you lurch forward and push your lips onto his. The kiss is awkward, the angle at which you came at him making your noses bump together uncomfortably.

“Please, please, please.” You beg against his lips, your tears staining his face from how close you are. “Don’t be mad, please.” Kissing him all over his face, you don’t feel his expression change.

“Tell me where he touched you.” Choso says, effectively pushing you away from him in one go.

“What?”

“Tell me where he touched you.” He repeats, pushing you to the bed. Your knees buckle as soon as they meet the mattress and you fall down across the messy sheets. Stripping off his hoodie and pants, you can see the outline of his cock when his shirt moves.

“He…” You begin, but stop as Choso sinks both knees into the mattress and straddles you.

“Go on.” He grabs your chin and forces your head to tilt up.

“First he kissed me.” One of your hands comes up, gesturing to all the places on your face where he kissed you.

“With his tongue, too?” Choso’s eyes dart around your face and he grimaces when you nod. “Bastard.” Gripping your chin harder, Choso leans down and kisses your wet cheek, the tip of his tongue lightly grazing your skin to drink in your tears.

“Choso-nii!” Squirming as the slimy appendage follows along with his lips, you yelp when he gets to your ear and licks there too.

“Geto was right about one thing - you’re fucking hot when you cry.” Blowing cool air over your ear, he goes back to your lips. They’re much drier than Geto’s but you like it, let his tongue in immediately when he pushes it in.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer. Your mouths slot together, drool beginning to drip down your face as Choso pushes more of himself on you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he ruts into your shorts, his cock coming to life.

“Where else?” His voice is raspy when he pulls away and he doesn’t go far.

“Here.” You shake your shoulders side to side, making your breasts move under your shirt. Choso hikes your shirt up over your breasts, your nipples already hard and waiting for him.

“Look at you, my pretty little sister.” With an unwavering gaze, Choso smooths his palms over your breasts. “Geto really touched you here with his dirty hands?”

“Y-yeah, he was too rough. It hurt a lot.” Choso nodded as you spoke, running soft fingers over your nipples and taking them gently between his fingers.

“Geto is a big meanie, hurting my baby like that.” He chided and leaned down to plant a kiss between your breasts. “I told him to be gentle too.” Choso begins to pepper kisses all over your chest. “He promised he’d wait until we got back home from work but the bastard just couldn’t help himself, huh?”

“What?”

“Geto and I wanted to give you a gift tonight but it seems he was unable to wait.” Cupping your breasts, Choso flicked one of your nipples with his tongue making you jump. “I told him he had to wait for me to be there, I know how rough he can get with girls. And it seems I wasn’t mistaken.”

Kissing you before you have the chance to really think about the words he said, Choso gropes your breasts softly. It’s a stark contrast to how rough Geto had been, when Choso rolls your nipples between his fingers you don’t try to get away.

Littering kisses down your neck, Choso sucks on your nipples gently, grazing them with his teeth and running his hands up and down your sides. With every pleasurable wave that goes through you, you buck your hips up into his, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against you making you more excited.

“He touched you here too, I know that.” Choso says with his mouth pressed against your chest, his hand pushing between your bodies to cup your sex through your shorts. “Was he rough here, too?”

“A little.”

“Geto-nii really is just a big jerk, isn’t he?” He asks you with a soft smile, running his other hand over your face and cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, a big meanie.” You pout up at him, nuzzling your cheek into his hand.

“I’ll make you feel all better, don’t worry baby.” Unraveling his body from yours, he nudges you up the bed. “Take your clothes off and put your head on the pillow, get comfortable for me.”

You immediately do as he says, stripping yourself bare in record time. Choso steps back to take his clothes off as well and his cock slaps against his stomach when he takes off his underwear.

Crawling back onto the bed, Choso falls face first between your legs, catching himself on his elbows. He’s directly facing your cunt, his nose is so close he wouldn’t need to lean far at all to put it on you.

“Choso-nii.” Your head falls back with a sigh against the pillows as he runs his hands over your inner thighs, spreading your lips and exposing your leaking cunt for him.

“What a pretty fucking pussy you have, Geto was right about that too.” Blowing air onto you, he chuckles softly when your hole clenches around nothing. Leaning forward, Choso places a gentle kiss on your clit and your thighs nearly clamp around him.

“Choso!” A hand flies down to grip his hair as his lips wrap around your clit, his thumb pulling back the hood. The action is enough to make your thighs wrap around his head, your hips bucking high off the bed the longer he runs his tongue over you.

Choso doesn’t mind the squeeze, he welcomes it in fact and wraps an arm around your leg, pulling you closer to his face. A series of heady pants leave your mouth, eyes rolling back when he gives a brief, sharp suck.

Letting go of your clit, Choso pushes his face deeper into your cunt and worms his tongue inside you. Lapping at your walls Choso groans as you tighten around his tongue, your essence flowing into his mouth that he swallows eagerly. There’s drool beginning to pool on his lower lip, dripping down the crack of your ass and staining his bed.

Getting drunk off the taste of your cunt, Choso ruts against the bed as he fucks you with his tongue. More groans come from deep within his chest and when your hips buck up into him he rides the motion, encouraging you to do it more.

Going back to your clit, Choso wiggles two fingers between your legs and pushes them deep inside you. His fingers aren’t as long as Geto’s but they’re thicker, stretching you in a way the other man simply could not. The rough calluses on your brothers fingers served him well, the extra friction on that special spot inside you making you keen.

“Go ahead and cum, (Y/N), use me for your pleasure.” Choso’s breathless as he speaks, forcing his head up from the vice grip you’re holding him in.

“Choso-nii, please-” Your entire back is arched high off the bed, your hips canting up to fuck yourself on his fingers. Choso bites his lip and watches your face contort for a moment before diving back down and honing in on your clit.

His fingers inside you go slower than Getos, milking the feeling of your walls around him for as long as possible. The pace is almost unbearable and not enough, but his mouth on your clit makes up for it.

As you cum the hand grabbing Choso’s hair tightens, pushing his face deeper into you as you ride out the waves. A loud, unabashed moan comes from you, whatever neighbors are home next door have definitely heard it. Choso fucks you through your orgasm, mouth going down to catch your release.

When your body finally relaxes is when Choso comes up from between your legs. His face is smeared with his spit and your slick and he wipes it off on the back of his hand, catching his breath as he moves over you and hooks your legs back around his waist.

“Are you ready, baby?” The tip of his cock is dragging up and down your slit, making the growing fuzziness in your head even stronger. You nod, eager to have him inside you. “Use your words.”

“I’m- I’m ready.” You speak with a heavy tongue, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders in an attempt to get him closer. Satisfied, Choso pushes in with little resistance, his cock gliding in easily with the amount of slick you have.

“Fuck-” He chokes as he bottoms out, a delicious shiver running through him. Chosos cock is thick like his fingers are, stretching you out and making you squirm. Panting and heaving, he draws out halfway and pushes back in with the wet squelching of your cunt around him.

“Big brother!” Your nails dig into his back, hips rising to meet his slow thrusting. His back bows deeply, trying to keep as much control as he can over himself. All Choso wants to do is sit back and pound into you, make you cream all over him and maybe even squirt.

But he takes his time, working his cock into you at a nice and even pace. He has a point to prove, that he’s better than Geto and that he’ll treat you better. He knows he will, knows he can, but he needs you to know it too.

Digging your feet into his lower back, you huff. Being fucked by Choso is better than you could ever imagine, the veins on his cock dragging across your walls wonderfully, but you need more. This slow pace can only keep you satisfied for so long.

“Getting impatient?” Choso chuckles, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. Curling his fists into the pillow beneath you, Choso snaps his hips into yours. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

Choso slowly increased the speed of his hips, the slapping of wet skin against skin getting louder and louder. The control he had was slipping away with every thrust, his lip caught tightly between his teeth as he watched your eyes roll back.

“Choso-nii, ah- ah-” The moans coming out of your mouth were so pretty Choso held his breath to be able to hear them better. He tried to keep his head upright to stare at you, but the drag of his heavy cock inside you was making it impossible.

Dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck, Choso kissed and sucked on your flesh as he fucked you. Your body rocked with every thrust, a moan spilling out every time he bottomed out and nails dragging down his back.

“Take my cock so fucking well-” Choso panted, grabbing under your ass to angle your hips higher. “My lil sis so good to me-” His head was clouding up from pleasure and his words dissolved into babbles.

Chosos teeth scraped against your neck as he spoke, adding to all the sensations washing over you. You moaned right along with what he was saying even though half of his words didn’t make it to your ear, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck.

A squeal ripped through you as Choso clumsily rubbed your clit, making you tighten around him even harder. He growled deep from his chest, it was becoming almost impossible to drag his cock out of you.

“Choso-nii! I’m- ah-” Tears pricked your lashes you squeezed your eyes so hard together. The pleasure was coming to a head, making your ears ring and mouth fall open in a perfect O. Strained moans broke through, echoed by sharp gasps of air you forced into your lungs.

At the sound of you coming undone, Choso came as well. His hips went even faster, chasing the high for as long as he could. Your cunt gushed around him, mixing with the seed he was pumping into you and creating an even bigger mess on his sheets.

Choso slammed his lips onto yours, desperate to take as much as you could give him. His fingers didn’t stop moving on your clit until you feebly pushed his hand away, and that’s when he knew he could slow down.

“I love you.” Choso says immediately after he stops moving, his body buzzing with happy hormones and a drunken smile is on his face.

“I love you too!” You reply quickly, still trying to catch your breath. Choso stays buried inside you until his cock goes soft and then he pulls out slowly, watching his cum string along his cock and keeping the two of you connected.

“You did so well for me.” He mused, falling to your side and closing his eyes. He’s already pulling you into a side hug before he can even think, throwing the blankets over the two of you to keep the chill from evaporating sweat away.

You lay quietly together, catching your breath and sharing soft kisses together. Your heart is absolutely full of love for Choso, and a smile threatens to never leave your face. It strains your cheeks and makes them ache but you don’t try to push it away.

“How about we get some lunch now?” Choso asks after twenty minutes.

“Okay.” Nodding softly, you make no move to get up from his hold, instead curling into him even more and staying there for another few minutes.

“Alright, let’s really get up now.” Rocking back and forth, Choso rolls on top of you for a moment before rolling completely off the bed. “I’m fucking starving.”

You get dressed after Choso cleans his cum from between your thighs, giving you soft kisses on your stomach and hips as he does so. He keeps an arm around you the entire time, never letting you stray too far from him as you walk to the front door.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He stops right as you open the front door.

“Yes?”

“Give me your phone, I’m blocking Geto’s number and deleting those fucking nudes.”

#tw: incest #tw: dubcon #tw: infantilization #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #choso x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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chibikinesis · 5 years

Text

Another ModernAU short draft ♥ ♥ ♥ 1700-ish words.

Another fairly uneventful day was finally coming to a close. The clock signaled the arrival of the final quarter of Edward's shift, and he gazed longingly out the window and into the courtyard. Days like this made for easy money, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't rather be just about anywhere else on such a beautiful day.

"Don't worry, Ed. You're in the home stretch now." Daniel chuckled, making his way into the room with two mugs of coffee. He placed one of them on the desk near Edward's elbow, and sunk back into his chair with a grunt. "What, two more hours?"

"That'll probably feel like another eight." Edward sighed tiredly, lifting the ceramic to his lips and taking a sip. "Thanks for fresh cup.”

"Hey, no problem." Daniel pulled an excess of creamer and sugar packets from his pocket, and Edward chuckled. It was far from the first time it'd happened, and he was sure it'd be far from the last either. "Y'know... whoever said cargo pants are useless was a goddamned fool."

"Solid point." Edward smirked. "I mean... what'd you manage to squeeze into all those pockets? Half the coffee bar?"

Dan laughed wickedly. "Smartass."

Edward sighed, a contented smile on his face as he looks around. His attention was seized by a figure drawing nearer to the window; a slender woman with a trendy blonde bob, his age or a little older, and wearing an outfit that he could pin as neither casual nor dressy.

She took little notice of him; her gaze had immediately honed in on Daniel, who had just taken notice of the peculiar look on his coworker's face. When he heard a gentle tapping on the glass, he turned to greet this new guest.

"Hey, you old codger." She grinned, laughter in her voice. "Still working here?"

"Heeeyyyy, nice to see you, too." Daniel laughed that ornery laugh of his, rising to his feet and striding over to the window to greet her. "How the hell ya been, kid? Been a while!"

"Doing well, actually. Finally found a nice little place to settle into nearby."

"You back in town then?"

"Yep. Have been for a few months now, actually. Finding my footing, settling in, what-have-you. Finding a decent job, and don't even get me started on the moving process." She sighed, as if to recall just what a hassle it had all been. "What about you?"

"Still here. Can't complain." He smiled warmly. "Don't do any good even if I do, so..."

"Doesn't hurt to try, at any rate, does it?"

Edward watched the exchange in silent confusion, sipping at his coffee. Daniel certainly seemed familiar with the young woman, and that wasn't a terribly common thing to see. He was becoming more and more curious as to how she knew him.

"You're more optimistic than I am." Daniel grumbles. "But, hey, I doubt you're just here to shoot the shit with this old codger, right?"

"It's been nice, Dan, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't come here to see someone else."

"I figured as much. Lemme get 'im on the horn."

Daniel turned and walked a few paces to grab his radio, and the woman leaned in just a bit to survey the security room as she waited. Her wandering eyes stumble across Edward's pensive form and she does a double-take; it took her a moment to place it, but she was certain that this was the man she'd seen in Jack's company during a fair few of her shifts. She smiled warmly at the recollection, and offered a small wave, which he awkwardly returned.

"'Ey, Jack, you copy?"

"Daniel? What is it?"

"Ya' got a visitor down here."

"A visitor?"

"Yeah. Waitin' down here by the security office."

"Now who on Earth-"

Daniel quickly switched channels on his radio, knowing that Jack was about to barrage him with a slew of questions he didn't particularly feel like answering. Plus, he had no doubt the resulting anger would make the doctor's trip downstairs even more hasty. The old guard smirked confidently. "He'll be right down."

"That's one way to do it." The woman was impressed by just how bold Daniel had gotten since she last saw him. If she was being honest, she found that she quite enjoyed it.

As if on cue, they could hear the grinding of the staff elevator descending; with a loud ding, the doors slid open, and almost immediately, they could hear Jack's angry, nasally voice spilling out.

"Daniel, what have I told you about cutting me off like that?!" he spewed. "I can't always afford to come down here on such short noti-"

He came to an abrupt stop when the woman stepped into view, a calm smile on her face. "Hey, Jack."

"Em-..." He stopped dead in his tracks. It took him a full moment to digest it all; he looked as though he'd just seen a ghost, and seeing him that way left Edward feeling a little uneasy himself. "Emogene."

"Since you don't seem like you can be bothered to respond to any of my texts or calls," she spoke, a meaningful undertone in her voice. "- I thought it might just be easier to try stopping in to talk, one-on-one."

Jack sighed, guilt etched on his features as he nodded feebly in agreement. "Let's... follow me."

Daniel and Edward watched as the two walked out the nearby set of glass doors and into the courtyard outside. Daniel's gaze strayed, and he studied Edward's worried face for a moment before shifting his attention back outside, and back again. He smiled knowingly.

"Ed."

"Hm?"

"You can un-clench your buttcheeks now." Daniel chuckled. "Emogene is Jack's sister."

Edward tried to brush it off, but they both knew better. His cheeks darkened, and he waved his hand dismissively, both of them shifting their attention back to what was going on outside.

“Look, I know you’re on the clock right now, so I don’t want to keep you too long, I just...” Emogene drew a long breath and huffed a defeated sigh; or at least as defeated as she’d let herself sound. But Jack knew. “I miss you, Jack. I know I hurt you and mom when I took off back then, but I there were just some things I needed to do by myself, for myself. And I did, and I’ve grown... so much. I’m doing so much better now, Jack, and I’m trying to be a better sister, if you’d just give me that chance.”

“I told you, we could meet up some time-”

“Oh please, Jack, you’ve been making excuses and putting me on the back burner for three months now. You know, when you’re not outright ignoring me.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I see you having lunch all the time and you don’t even bother to say hello. “C’mon, if you can make time to have lunch with your guard in there like... three times a week, you can squeeze in some time for me-”

“Wha- how...” Her mouthfuls were loaded with accusations, none of which he found he could really refute, and her brother’s cheeks darkened in shame. The last one stung a bit more than he thought it might, though. He’d have stolen a glance back at Edward if he wasn’t concerned he’d be too obvious. “How did you...?”

“Because I’m the head event coordinator at the mall and I’m there just about every day. If you actually talked to me you might know that by now.” Her voice was scolding, but not excessively abrasive. Perhaps a sign of that personal growth she’d hinted to. “Look, I know that if you’re anything like you used to be... which, you probably are...”

Jack crinkled his nose at just how correct she was in her assumptions.

“ - that you’re probably just going straight home after work, and shutting yourself up in your study, and being a hermit for the rest of the night. Or entertaining mother’s whims.” Jack could detect a small bit of venom in her tone when she mentioned Wilhelmina, but she quickly recovered. “- I’ve got a pretty nice apartment now, and I’d love to have you over for dinner. I ... really wanna’ catch up. Hear what’s been going on with you. Maybe fill you in on what’s been up with me, if you give half a damn.”

The doctor’s stance softened, and his lips curled into a small smile. All this time and she could still read him like a book. But her idea was sounding... tolerable.

“I know a break from her did me good. Probably wouldn’t hurt you, either. I think we could finally act like... functional siblings for once if she’s not helicoptering over us and stirring the pot.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and cocked his head ever so slightly, and Emogene shrugged.

“... maybe. That might be asking too much. It’s worth a shot.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought, and she gave a playful shrug. “But if you come over and decide you still don’t really want to associate with me, I mean, I... guess that’s fine. At least you can say you gave it a shot.”

There was something a little heartbreaking in that last sentence, and it registered as a small ache in Jack’s chest. Had he really made her feel so alienated with his behavior?

“Just... give me that chance, Jack.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard more sincerity in her voice in his whole life; it wasn’t delivered without her signature Emogene Cynicism, of course, but it was definitely there and more tangible than ever. She was letting her walls down enough to let him in. She was taking the initiative to repair the bonds that had been broken. And he was dodging her like a plague.

Who’s really the bad sibling in this situation, when I really think about it? He pondered for a moment. He didn’t like the conclusion he drew, but it was one he needed to accept. You need to do better.

“Actually, Emogene, that sounds... great.” He smiled weakly at her. There was a lot more he wanted to say to her. He had a lot to apologize for, for starters, but he supposed that could wait until he visited her apartment later. He supposed the lapse would give him more time to mentally prepare and rehearse it all. Besides, he was still on the clock. “What time?”

“Seven... ish?” She gestured vaguely. “But, uh... don’t tell mom about me. I’m... not ready for her to know I’m back home yet.”

Jack nodded solemnly and understandingly at her, and she beamed him a genuine smile.

“I’ll text you my address, okay?”

“I’ll actually open it this time.” her brother chuckled.

“Cute.” She snarled. “Anyway, I’ll be holding you to that. You better be there tonight.”

“I promise.”

#jackward #modern au #rachel writes #jack cabot #edward deegan #emogene cabot #daniel #this one's actually more focused on Jack and Emogene but yeah

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tsc-living · 5 years

Text

The one where Kit doesn’t think anything is lovelier than Ty.

(This is a short story I wrote about Kit and his new friend in Devon. I know it’s strange reading about a character that doesn’t exist in the Shadowhunter Chronicles, but I love the idea of Kit navigating this new world with Tessa and Jem and having a friend. A friend who loves to listen to Kit tell her stories about the Blackthorns)

“You scared Herondale?” The girl in front of Kit said, shoulders squared and her blade as dark a silver as her hair. They were circling each other with their eyes locked and bodies thrumming with anticipation. Sweat was stinging his eyes and his blonde hair was pasted to his neck and forehead, but he didn’t dare wipe his face and risk getting a sword at his throat.

“With the scary shit I have faced in the very short sixteen years of my life, I would have to say that you don’t scare me Whitehill.” He said. She gave him a malevolent grin and leapt forward, sword thrust out. Kit parried her away with an effort and kicked his leg out, but she jumped easily, her sword twisting around his and aiming for his shoulder. He jumped back, ducked and spun out, this time knocking her to the ground. He leapt forward and disarmed her swiftly, but before he could pin her down she grabbed his hand around the blade and jerked his arm hard over her knee. He knew if she hadn’t been aware of her strength it would have broken his wrist, as it was the pain that shot up his arm was excruciating and he dropped the blade. She pinned his arm behind him, picked up his blade and held it against his throat.

“Bitch!” He spat, tapping her leg three times with his free arm. She laughed and released him, handing his sword back to him. He took it with his left hand, shaking out his right.

“You’re too easy.” She complained, picking up her own sword.

“Excuse me, but that is the first time today you actually bested me.” He said and she shrugged with one arm. It was true, the two of them had been sparring in the backyard of Kit’s house in Devon under the watchful eye of his adopted father since sunrise and it was starting to get dark. Jem had tried fruitlessly to stop them, for them to take breaks, but neither would stop. It was the anniversary of Ariana’s family being torn apart by werewolves and as Kit and her were the only two training Shadowhunters nearby, and each other’s only friend, it was his duty to do what she needed from him. As it was, she wanted to train until she collapsed, which Kit was worried she wouldn’t. Even though her pale silver hair was dark and drenched with sweat, her white tank top transparent and clinging to her body, she was already circling again. Kit’s own body was aching, especially his sword arm, and he was losing the will to keep fighting.

“Because I literally haven’t eaten all day! You let me drink every three fights and then you leap on me again. As flattered as I am Ari, and believe me you are the only person throwing yourself on me at the moment, I need a break.” He said, sitting down where he had stood on the grass. Ariana paused and then dropped down beside him, burying her face against her knees and covering her head with her arms; nearly decapitating Kit in the process. He gingerly took the sword from her and laid it on the grass behind her before putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. He knew she was trying not to cry, but the exhaustion was taking over.

“Come on Ari, you’re allowed to cry.” He said softly and she turned, burying her face against his sweat sodden clothing, clinging to his collar. He hugged her tightly and she made a funny gasping noise, her body shuddering. Kit had only ever seen grief like this when he had witnessed the Blackthorns after Livia had died. It was the soul destroying, body racking pain that somehow didn’t produce tears. Ariana’s father, mother and two older siblings had been torn apart by werewolves in London whilst on a routine patrol the year prior and she never spoke about it. You could see that there was something missing from her, it was visible in her eyes and in the way she spoke. She had become the master of conversation, avoiding anything that could involve her family. After their death, the only other Shadowhunter family in Devon had taken her in and it had been Tessa’s idea that Ariana and Kit meet. Kit had only been living with Tessa and Jem for a very short while at that time, dealing with his own pain, and the two of them suffered together in their own ways. Ariana suffered silently, and dealt with it by training. Kit dealt with it by hating himself and locking himself in his room with loud music. It was Kit who could pull Ariana from training, who could get her to talk when she went mute. It was Ariana who could remind Kit about his good qualities and turn the music off. Kit knew he was lucky that the Armstrongs also supported mundane technology such as laptops and an internet connection so that his friend was as educated on pop culture as he was. It was also why she had silver hair and often wore cute outfits she had ordered online. The badass warrior was also a trendy fashion icon with a flourishing Instagram account. Kit heard the footsteps come down the porch steps and cross the fast cooling grass to them, they were light and quick so he knew it was Tessa. She knelt down on the other side of Ariana and touched her leg gently.

“Oh dear, that’s a lot of pain.” She said softly and with some help from Kit the two of them pulled her to her feet.

“Jem just got off the phone with Mr and Mrs Armstrong and they have agreed to let you stay here tonight sweetheart. Why don’t you go and have a shower and get into Kit’s bed, we’ll bring you something to eat.” She said and all Ariana could do was nod weakly and stumble exhaustedly into the house and out of sight. Kit looked at his adopted mother and he smiled sadly at her.

“She is suffering.” He said, stating the obvious. She nodded gravely and put her hand on his arm.

“She is yes.” She agreed.

“When she is suffering she stops talking… it happens so suddenly. She just, switches off. Shuts down… one day she is going to disappear so far into herself that even I can’t bring her back mom.” He said, desperation and grief for that time welling inside him.

“That won’t happen honey, you can reach her. You can guide her back to the real world. You can’t blame her for retreating when it gets too hard.” Tessa said gently and kissed his sweaty forehead. Kit rubbed his eyes and sighed, he didn’t blame Ariana for disappearing inside herself when things were too much for her to handle, he knew how it felt and he had his own ways of doing much the same.

“What if she hurts herself?” He asked, glancing at the upstairs windows of the house towards the bathroom.

“I think she might be too exhausted for that today. Besides, I don’t think she could do that to you.” Tessa said, drawing him towards the house. Her words had surprised him a little bit. Ariana and Kit had known each other for a year, and yes they had become close, but he didn’t think he had the power to keep someone safe from themselves.

“What do you mean?” He asked, sitting down on a barstool in the kitchen. Jem put a toasted ham and cheese sandwich in front of him and Kit nibbled on it unceremoniously; not because he wasn’t grateful for the food, but because he had trained and sweated all day and the thought of eating made him feel nauseated.

“I mean that I don’t think she would hurt you by hurting herself. You’re the only person she believes in this world that cares for her, that loves her.” Tessa said. Her daughter burbled happily from the bouncing baby chair on the countertop, agreeing with Tessa it seemed.

“You care about her, and so do the Armstrongs.” Kit protested, but Tessa brushed his wet hair off his forehead and shook her head.

“She doesn’t believe that. We’re older, we haven’t trained with her every day for a year. We haven’t laid on the grass talking about internet phases or complained about our studies with her. She depends on you Kit, and I am not telling you anything that you didn’t already know.” Tessa told him and Kit nodded, eyes downcast. He depended on Ariana too, to turn his music off and open his blinds. To make him smile, to make him laugh even, and they had navigated this past year together in the wake of losing people that they loved. The only difference was Ariana had lost people to death, and although Kit had lost some to that as well, some were still living. Even though Kit had tried to think of them as dead to him, the Blackthorns existed in his mind no matter how hard he tried.

“I know.” He said and took another bite of the sandwich, “And Dad?” He added. Jem looked up from the stove with the smile he always wore when Kit called him dad.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for the sandwich.” He said and Jem chuckled.

“You’re welcome. I figured you would be too tired and otherwise preoccupied to eat the stew with us.” He said, gesturing at the pot he was stirring, “Just eat that and see if you can get Ariana to eat one too.” He added and Kit nodded, chewing.

After he had eaten, he picked up the plate with the second sandwich and said goodnight to his parents even though it was still a little bit light outside.

“Kit wait!” Tessa said and opened the fridge. She pulled out two bottles of Gatorade and handed them to him. He laughed and took them under his arm.

“I went and purchased those after lunch when you still hadn’t stopped. Drink these, one for Ariana, and draw some iratzes and nourishment runes okay?” She said and kissed his forehead again, “Just in case you are hurt.” She added and Kit nodded.

“Thank you, goodnight, I love you!” He said and walked up the stairs with their choruses following him. Ariana was sitting on Kit’s bed in a pair of old pyjamas she had pulled from the drawer of her belongings in his room. The two had often gotten caught out at each other’s houses plenty of times before relenting and leaving some belongings behind. Kit placed the bottle and the sandwich on the bedside table closest to her and then put the other bottle on the other one.

“I’m going to go and shower, when I get back I want half of that sandwich eaten okay?” He said firmly, placing his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t acknowledge him, her brown eyes haunted. He swallowed his sigh, grabbed his pyjamas and a towel, and crossed the hall to the bathroom.

When he emerged in his room, clean, dressed and hair weakly towel dried, he found Ariana sitting against the pillows, sandwich exactly half gone and some of the Gatorade had been drunk. He felt relief flood his body and he smiled at her. She didn’t smile back, but her eyes tracked his movements as he hung up his towel, turned his laptop off, plugged his phone in, turned on the lamps and then brushed his hair. When he finally sat down after turning the room light off, she was looking at her hands folded neatly atop her lap. He gently pulled her until she moved herself, facing the window away from him. He brushed her long, wet tangled hair gently, humming to himself. He’d done this for her before, looked after her when she hadn’t done simple things for herself, when she had shut down. The next day she had thanked him and cried, and although he wasn’t looking forward to the tears he was relieved when she felt something, felt anything at all. He badly plaited it like Tessa had taught him and clumsily tied it up with the hair tie from her wrist before moving her back against the pillows. She slid down until she was lying on her back and before he covered her with the blankets, he drew an iratze and a nourishment rune on her bicep. He lay down with her after turning off the lamps, and the room was nearly completely dark, only spots of light coming from charging electrical items.

“Are you going to talk to me?” He asked finally and she shook her head. “Come here then.” He said and she put her head on his shoulder. They lay like that for a while, Kit feeling the exhaustion in his entire body, but not yet ready to sleep. Lying like this reminded him of why Mr Armstrong had asked Kit when he was going to ask Ariana out on a date. He had been too surprised to answer, but it had been Ariana who said, “He loves someone else Sir, do not expect him to ask me out. I certainly don’t. Besides, one day we could be parabatai and then that would just make things complicated.” It had made Kit smile to think of them as parabatai, but the rest of the sentence had distressed him. He had never told Ariana that he had loved someone before moving, he hadn’t told anyone.

“Tell me.” She whispered into the darkness and Kit frowned, still staring up at his ceiling. He was glad she was talking, but he didn’t know what she wanted. “Tell you what?” He asked.

“About him.” She replied and Kit sucked in his breath. He knew what Ariana meant. How she knew about Kit’s unresolved feelings, or why she wanted him to talk about them, he didn’t know.

“About… about Ty?” He whispered and she nodded against his arm.

“I want to hear about nice things, lovely things. And you don’t think anything is lovelier than him.” She said and Kit’s breath escaped him in a soft laugh.

“That is true…” He relented. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking of Tiberius Nero Blackthorn. A vision of him flashed across his closed eyes and he decided to start with that story.

“I looked at the boy with the knife to my throat, the boy whose black eyelashes feathered down against his cheekbones as he glanced away from me, and I felt something like a shock of recognition pass through me. I thought, how beautiful…”

#kit #ty #kitty #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #christopher herondale #tid #tda #tmi #tsc #kitty tsc #kit x ty #oc #one shot #headcanon #fanfic #short story

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mvssmallow · 6 years

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Cloudy With A Chance

Chapter 30 Part I: …of commotio cordis

Masterlist

December 25th. Christmas

It wasn’t the worst Christmas he’s ever had. His parents still throw their annual dinner and even though Jiwon wasn’t there (a mutual decision), it was good to see the rest of his extended family again. His sister loved the spikey backpack that Jiwon brought back from Japan. They give his parents a huge new potted magnolia tree to replace the small one that fell over and Jiwon brought back a Sumi-E painting for their wall. He gets an expensive leather work bag and as much as he wants to reject expensive material things, he does kinda like it.

He fields questions about his apparent single life but aside from a few warning looks from his parents that still pissed him off and made him want to start an argument, he doesn’t say anything controversial. There’s a time and place for everything and it’d be selfish to ruin Christmas for everyone else.

They find him later, just before he’s about to go home, and press something in his hand. It’s a voucher for one of those astronomy trips where you hike up the hills to the planetarium and get to look at space through the gigantic telescopes. He finds another voucher in the envelope. Two vouchers. He doesn’t really know what to say and neither do they. But it’s something. It’s definitely something.

They drive by June and Yun’s apartment in between all their family engagements for a few drinks and to exchange presents. They get June a new series of Rorschach ink blot paintings for his shop and one of the new Hermés perfumes for Yun. Jiwon gets another new shirt (black this time) and another lecture from Yun about looking more presentable, although there was so much fondness in his voice that it shouldn’t even qualify as a lecture. He blushes red when he opens his box to reveal new bedsheets. Actually, they are just newer versions of the same sheets he and Jiwon have now, he just loves them so much he was planning to use them until they disintegrated. They wash and use the new sheets that night, snuggled in bed, watching Love, Actually for the 20th time. He falls asleep to ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’.

He discovers very quickly that there’s no rest for the wicked when you have two sets of families (three, if he counts June and Yun). They go to church with Jiwon’s family the next day and he meets the rest of the relatives over lunch. They don’t introduce him with any kind of title but he thinks everyone knows anyway. If there was a problem, nobody says anything and soon enough it’s all forgotten anyway when Juin and Jinah announce that they’re pregnant. It’s met with cheers so loud that he’s actually taken aback for a second. But Jiwon’s hand is there to catch him, as always, fingers pressing firmly and reassuringly against his hip when no-one is looking. They give Jiwon’s mom the new mixer she wanted and when Jiwon’s dad sees the purple orchids (from Jiyoon’s shop), he gets a hug that half chokes him. Jiwon get new Nikes and a blue coat from one of those trendy street-brands that he’s barely heard of. They give him a perfectly manicured potted bonsai for his desk at work. He loves it.

Then they eat. They eat for what seems like hours and at 6pm, when the extended family have all gone home, Jiwon’s mom announces it’s time for the traditional “Kim Family Supper.”

“But we literally just ate.” He asks Jiwon, confused as ever. “We’ve been eating all day. With like, all the Kims in your family.”

“Just go with it.” Jiwon whispers back. “It’s family tradition and you’re pretty much family now so suck it up and eat when she tells you to.”

He does. Or tries to.

It’s 11pm by the time they get home- drunk, tired, a little in love with everything because it’s Christmas. He just wants to sleep but even though his body is tired, his mind is still awake.

“Hey, babe?” Jiwon asks.

“Yeah?”

“You know how you said we were only allowed to spend 20 bucks on each other’s presents?”

“Yeah.”

“Well.....um, I didn’t do that.” Jiwon says with an entirely unapologetic shrug.

“Knew it.”

“Well, 20 bucks is like...a small amount of money for a present okay!?” Jiwon exclaims indignantly. “Anyway, can I give it to you now?”

“Yeah okay.” He says with a smile. “Let’s see this million dollar present.”

They sit up in bed and Jiwon hands him a red box with something wrapped in several layers of tissue paper. It’s a heavy leather bound notebook with thick parchment paper, each page slightly different to the one before it. It looks like it was made with a lot of care. No way in hell this was 20 bucks.

“It’s....so beautiful. Where did you even get this?” He asks, fingers running over the smooth black leather cover.

“Osaka.” Jiwon replies. “I found this old man who hand makes them by recycling old novels from the state library that are too worn out to be read. You never know, maybe some of those pages are made from your Pi book or that Mickey Mouse guy.”

“Murakami?”

“Yeah, that guy. Murakami Mouse.”

Inside the front cover there’s a hand-written Japanese message: 岸を見失う勇気がなければ、決して海を渡る事はできない.

Underneath it, there’s Jiwon’s familiar scrawl: i don’t know what that means but i love you. merry christmas baby xoJ

He feels like bursting out laughing because well, Jiwon is, and has always been, nothing short of ridiculous. Simple, to-the-point, but ridiculous.

“What’s the Japanese message?”

“Oh, the old man wrote that. He wouldn’t tell me what it is so I had to ask the guy at the hotel. It means: You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”

“Deep.” He murmurs.

“Yeah, I know. I was kinda hoping he wrote something more Christmas-y and less....depressing.” Jiwon says next to him.

“It’s not depressing. He’s not wrong.” He laughs, pushing the box aside so he has room to lean forward and give Jiwon a hug and thank you kiss. “You always get me the best stuff, it’s so annoying.”

“I wanted to get you more but you threatened to break up with me if I blew our budget. Your present to me better be under 20 bucks pal. Or I’m telling our bank.”

He leans over the side to pull a box out from under the bed. “Here. Happy Christmas.”

It’s a copy of Life of Pi.

Jiwon looks over with a serious expression, running his fingers over the cover of the book, but it doesn’t last for long because there’s a Winnie The Pooh watch underneath it that makes him start snorting laughter. It’s so undignified and ugly but he still falls in love anyway, for the 80th time today. Personal record.

“Hanbin. Baby.” Jiwon says in his Responsible-Adult tone, holding up the kid’s watch. “This fancy timepiece totally costs more than 20 bucks.”

He smiles and helps Jiwon open the plastic box. “My sister helped me pick this one out for you. She thinks you’re a bit weird but she’s 9 so who cares.”

Jiwon raises an eyebrow. “You told her about me?”

His fingers pause in the packaging. “Well, yeah? Did you not want me to?”

“No, I just thought....you weren’t ready to do that or something.”

He rubs the back of his neck and feels hot all over. “I didn’t say much. Just that you’re my friend and you went to Japan recently so that’s why she got the backpack for Christmas. She really loved it by the way. I still can’t believe you got her something. You didn’t need to. And you didn’t need to get my parents anything either.”

“Yeah I did. You know I did. I can’t believe they got me something. That’s weird. Thought they still hated me.”

He shakes his head but it warms his heart, that all the important people in life where thinking of each other at all. “Well, anyway. Now Hanbyul thinks she’ll get two sets of presents from us every time there’s some kind of event. It’s a dangerous tradition to start.”

“Eh, she deserves it for all the shit she’s gone through this year.”

He frowns then. The guilt bleeding into consciousness. He stays quiet and focuses on picking at the sticky tape on the Winnie box.

Jiwon’s fingers reach over to stop him. “Hey, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean that it was your fault. Just that, I don’t know, shit. Sorry. I kinda ruined this didn’t I?”

He shakes his head again and tries not to cry. “You didn’t ruin it. You’re....you’re right. It was my fault though. I should’ve visited her more and I should’ve-”

Jiwon takes the box out of his hands and tidies the presents off their bed. “Come here.”

He stays where he is. Guilty people don’t deserve sympathy.

“Hanbin.”

He goes to get up. “Just give me a second.”

And that’s how he ends up, half-alone, sitting on his couch in a darkened living room, feeling like shit. He expected Jiwon to come rushing in with apologies and hugs and whispers of nice things in his ear that were only partly true.

But he doesn’t. Jiwon leaves him to sit there for something close to an hour. He must’ve been staring at the clock because as soon as it ticked over to 12:01 am, he can hear and feel the presence of someone else in the room.

“Can I come in?”

He snorts. “You live here too. You can do what you want.”

“But do you want me here?”

He shrugs. Yes I do.

Jiwon sits down heavily but doesn’t touch him. Half of him is grateful for the space. Half of him is yearning for warm hands.

“I know you love this blame game thing but if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

He looks over; it’s still dark and they can hardly see each other’s faces at all.

“It’s not-”

“Yeah it is. I found you didn’t I? That day in the rain, then I found you at the club, then I asked you to come to June’s shop. I kinda dragged you into this.”

Maybe he melts a little bit. Maybe.

“You didn’t drag me into this.” He says. “I was already walking there.”

“So it’s both our faults? Your sister had a shitty year because we were both shitty brothers with no self control and I really wanted to kiss you.”

He smiles to himself and shakes his head.

“And you said she’s okay now right? Your parents are letting you take her out and stuff. She’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay too.”

He nods.

This guy. His guy. His best guy. How the hell does he always know what to say? And why does it always work?

“Good. Great. Because I’m fucking tired as fuck.” Jiwon says eloquently as he yawns. “Are you done blaming yourself tonight? Because I kinda want to get back into bed.”

He rolls his eyes. God forbid he gets between Jiwon and his Sleep.

But he goes willingly. Let’s himself be led back to their bed, with the new sheets that he loves, and presents all over the floor and most importantly, this ridiculous guy who says all the wrongs things at the wrong times but somehow fixes it all by saying all of the right things and the right times too.

“Thanks for the cheap presents, babe.”

“Hey!”

Jiwon giggles and pulls him back against his body. “I love them though. I’m gonna read the book. And I’m never gonna be late again.”

He turns around and kisses Jiwon’s jaw. “Those are both lies but thank you for lying to me.”

Jiwon kisses his nose. “You’re welcome, baby.”

****

December 31st. New Years Eve. 7pm.

They’re getting ready to head over to June and Yun’s for the NYE party when his phone rings.

“Oh hi mom.”

There’s too much silence on the other end and the pause is so long that it makes his stomach drop and his heart fill with the dread of “something bad is happening.”

“Mom?”

“It’s....it’s your father.....he’s in the hospital.”

“What?! When?! Why? Is he okay?” He has to sit down on the edge of the bed then, legs trembling and hands shaky. At the sound of his distress, Jiwon rushes into the room but freezes in the doorway when they lock eyes.

“He’s....it was a heart attack. His blood pressure. I told him and told him but he wouldn’t listen. And...he’s in the ICU now. He’s in a...in a coma.”

He feels sick and cold all over.

“Where...where....are you? I’m coming.”

But by the time he hangs up he feels so weak and he just sits there for a few seconds, staring into space.

Jiwon’s fingers touch his cheek lightly and he looks up.

“Hey? What’s going on?”

His vision is blurry now and it takes him a moment before he realises that he’s crying. “It’s dad...he’s in Asan. Heart attack. ICU.”

“Oh, baby.”Jiwon pulls him forward into an embrace and strokes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you drive me there?”

“Yeah of course.”

Jiwon helps him into his jacket and leads him down to the car. He barely registers being strapped in and he’s got so much going on inside his head that he doesn’t even realise the car has stopped until they’re parked in front of the hospital. Jiwon’s already gotten out of the car and is crouching down next to the passenger’s seat, touching his shoulder so softly, as if anything else will hurt him. It doesn’t matter. He feels numb anyway.

“What if-”

“Your mom would’ve told you.” Jiwon says gently, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up again. “Ready to go in?”

“No.”

Jiwon chews his lip. He’s seen it plenty of times before but those were in different situations. He gets the feeling that this is new for both of them. This total fucking disaster that neither of them can control.

“What if....do you want to just walk around a bit before we go in?” Jiwon suggests.

And again, he lets himself be led around the front garden of the hospital. There aren’t any flowers, just neat box hedges and a few trees dotted around the peripheries. He leans into Jiwon’s side and he doesn’t even care who sees it. He doesn’t care. His dad had a fucking heart attack. Why should he care what people even think of him anymore?

It makes him angry. Furious that he’s wasted all this time caring about things that don’t even matter.

“Babe...babe...” Jiwon’s voice calls him back to reality.

He can feel his jaw ache from the way he’s grinding his teeth. His hand is gripping Jiwon’s so tightly that it must hurt.

“Sorry.” He says, loosening his grip and trying to just concentrate on breathing.

“What do you want to do? Walk a bit more or do you want to go in now?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know. He just wants someone to tell him what to do. He wants Jiwon to tell him what to do. Tell him that everything will be fine. Even though everything is not fine at all.

“Okay...okay.....we can just walk inside a bit. Just to the floor he’s on. That’s all. We can do that right?”

He shrugs again but Jiwon pulls him forward and some part of him thinks it’s funny really, that when shit hits the fan, Jiwon really is the one dragging him through it. How the hell would he have done this on his own?

He smell and heat and lights and noises of the hospital makes him want to throw up. It’s clean and pristine and their footsteps echo in the foyer but he can feel the layers of grime and death and suffering.

He doesn’t remember much. Just that Jiwon hugs him in the elevator and kisses his cheek. There’s something whispered against his ear but he can’t remember what it was.

He wishes he could because as soon as the door opens and he can see the long corridor leading to a sign that says ‘Intensive Care Unit’, he starts to panic. Not his usual everyday panic. This was some other kind of panic.

He stumbles backwards, as if to get back into the elevator, but Jiwon’s body is there and moving him forward.

“No....not yet, not yet...” He says, voice strained and foreign to his ears.

There’s an overhead announcement about something and in the distance he can hear a beeper going off. Doctors in white coats walk past, talking a mile a minute about things he doesn’t understand. The dinner ladies all file past with their empty trays and blue aprons. But the smell is still there. That unclean-clean disinfectant. It smells like sick people. Thick and claustrophobic, like all the walls were about to close in and he can’t breath anymore.

“Hey, hey....you’re okay.” Jiwon leads him down an empty corridor and pulls him tightly into his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t know how long Jiwon repeats it or how long they stand there. He knows enough time has past when his heart stops racing and he’s not breathing like he’s drowning.

But he’s not drowning. Or maybe he is. Was. Who cares? He holds on tight because Jiwon is still here and always was here. Maybe always will be here. He hopes so. If he’s going to stick around, he doesn’t want to be a basket case forever. Jiwon deserves more than that. He doesn’t want to be Jiwon’s basket case.

“We can go in now.” He says quietly, it’s half muffled by Jiwon’s hoodie but it’s heard all the same.

“Okay.”

He manages. One foot in front of the other. Jiwon’s hand on his back. It’s okay. It’s okay. He can do this. He can do this for Jiwon and his mother and his sister.

When they get to the front desk, it all goes to shit again.

They won’t let Jiwon in because he’s not family.

His parents raised him to be polite. Civil. Polite. Respectful.

But his nerves are so frayed and exposed that he’s really none of those things.

“What?! My father is dying in there and you’re not gonna let my boyfriend in!? Are you actually fucking kidding me right now?”

“Sir, if you could lower your voice-”

He does. Not that it makes him any more polite. “So let me get this straight. My father is in there. I’m out here. And you got some fucking archaic rules about letting non-blood relations in there? I don’t care about your fucking rules. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?!”

“Hanbin, it’s okay. I’ll wait out here.”

He didn’t mean to snap but he does. “That’s not the point Jiwon! The point is that this is fucked up. Do you people just wait for families to come in all stressed out of their minds and then fuck with them? Is that it? Way to make my day even worse! You f-”

Jiwon pulls him away so suddenly that he doesn’t even finish his sentence.

He stands in the corridor, seething and breathing so heavily he will probably pass out at some point. “Can you believe this shit? Who the fuck do they think they are?!”

“You can’t go in there like this. Your mom and sister are there. You need to-”

“What the fuck do you know? Don’t tell me what I need!” He yells back, regretting it the instant it leaves his mouth.

Jiwon is taken aback. There’s something like hurt and confusion across his face, as though he never thought all the anger would be directed at him.

“Don’t yell at me.”

It’s too much. This is too much. He just wants to go home. He collapses against the wall, rubbing whatever tears are left in his eyes. Why won’t Jiwon just leave him? So he doesn’t have to yell at him and disappoint him like this? He wants to be good for him but he’s not, all he does is fuck everything up.

“I’m gonna say some stuff now. You’re gonna listen, okay?” Jiwon says in a tone so serious that he doesn’t even remember the last time he heard it like that.

He nods.

“It’s not worth arguing with that lady. She doesn’t make the rules. It’s their hospital policy. Your dad and mom and sister are in there waiting for you. Just go be with your family, okay? I’ll wait out here if you need anything.”

He cries. Long silent tears into Jiwon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m a fucking mess.”

“And I told you it’s okay.”

“Why are you....”

“Why am I what?”

Shaking his head, he dries his eyes on his sleeve, sniffing a few times to clear his nose. “You’ll wait here? It might be awhile.”

“Yeah, I’ll wait. It’s okay.”

He apologises to the lady at the front desk. She takes it better than he expected but he supposes she’s seen all types of outbursts. She buzzes him in and just before he walks through the ICU doors, he looks over his shoulder to see Jiwon giving him a small smile.

If he had any tears left, he’d cry all over again.

****

Soundtrack for this chapter: All I Want For Christmas Is You by Michael Bublé | Love Scenario (piano cover)

#cloudy with a chance #it's part I #because 30 turned out a whole lot longer than i planned #god i am terrible at planning anything #where's my personal assistant?#i'm taking job offers btw #send me your resumes #ikon #double b #jiwon #bobby #hanbin

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boymeetsweevil · 7 years

Text

youtuber!reader + BTS prologue - jungkook version

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

The comments you received on Jin’s first video were a mixed bag, though they had slowed to a crawl. Many of them were positive ones from your own subscribers and his, but some were from fans of Jin who took it upon themselves to tell you he was theirs. You bit the inside of your cheek and stopped yourself from putting a petty kissy face emoji underneath the comments.

Jin took you out to dinner soon after and apologized profusely for the negativity, but you brushed it off and just asked if he would ever return to your channel. He perked up immediately and said of course he would. In the mean time, you continued to make both solo videos and videos with the guys when you had the time. You found yourself planning ideas for new content with Hoseok when he wandered over during his lunch break to visit you at the Clinique booth in the mall.

Channel Age: 21 Months, Subscribers: 17,638, Video: 85

Cutting Men’s hair and talking about life feat. Kook :)

The video begins with you standing in the middle of your typical setup with a younger man seated on a stool.

“Hello everyone,” you say as you place a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know I promised I would demo the package I got sent from Oster Fast Feed. I just want to say thank you to their team for reaching out to me. I’m really excited to review the Whisper Quiet clippers and their new Edgeline shears. Today I’ll be working with a model, but its not Hoseok. I know I said you could expect to see him in this video, but he’s too attached to that floppy, prince charming, middle part haircut he has. Instead, meet Kook!”

Jungkook looks at the camera briefly before looking down at the tarp you’ve laid out on the floor. He gives a quiet hello, which is accompanied by pink subtitles.

“He’s pretty shy, but he was kind enough to agree to help me out with this video. Plus look at all this hair he has, guys.” You take a minute run both your hands through Jungkook’s long bowl cut. “Its crazy thick, and he has, like, no split ends. Its amazing. How do you do it, Kook?”

The camera zooms in on Jungkook’s as he blinks owlishly before turning to face you instead. “I don’t do much. I know its kind of gross, but I only shampoo it about 3 or 4 times a week. Since its dyed. I put that other stuff on it too. And then...that’s it,” he chuckles. “Sorry its not super interesting.”

“No, actually there’s nothing wrong with that routine. Shampooing every day can be drying for most hair types. And air drying is probably the healthiest option after you wash it. I’m guessing you mean conditioner when you say ‘other stuff’?” Jungkook nods and a pop up appears in the corner of the screen asking viewers to vote on what they thought Jungkook meant by ‘other stuff’.

“So, Kookie’s hair is squeaky clean because we just washed and conditioned it. How was that, Kook?” The shot zooms in on Jungkook’s reaction once more.

He grins shyly. “It felt good. Smells like my mom when she comes back from the stylist.”

“I’ll take that as it didn’t stink. So what style are we going for, hm?”

“I don’t know, uh something trendy, I guess. Usually just want it out of my eyes.”

“Alright, I think I have something in mind for you,” you say and you pull up your phone and show him a few photos you have queued up for the haircut. A mirror of your phone screen appears on the side of the video while Jungkook swipes through them. He lands on a photo of a model with short cropped hair and the popular “more on top” look.

The scene begins and you have already shaved the back of his neck and are working up to his sideburns. You make a surprised face and walk into the foreground to bring the camera closer. The new closer angle shows the long hair by his temples. You lift the long bangs and sideburns to reveal his thrice pierced ear.

“Kookie, you have so many piercings. And is that a gauge?”

“Uh, yeah. I think they look cool.” A pop up enters the screen: ‘isn’t he precious?’ The video speeds up from there and upbeat music takes over the audio until you’ve finished using both the clippers and the shears and are now holding up a small pot of styling product to the camera.

“You probably can’t tell, but the clippers made the cut go by really fast. And the shears are super exact, they cut through the hair so cleanly its insane,” you say and a clip of you using the clippers on the back of his neck appears on the side. “As a finishing step I’m just going to use some styling wax. This is actually the one I reviewed last month. Its almost done, but there’s definitely enough for Kookie now that his hair is so short.”

You rake your wax-covered hands through his hair, paying special attention to the front where his bangs softly frame his face before swooping in a dreamy manner. You hand him a mirror and make a nervous face at the camera as he turns his head to see the cut from different angles.

“Y/N-noona...thank you so much,” he smiles before looking down guiltily, “but I um...I really have to pee.” He looks avoids looking at the camera while waddling up out of the chair and out of the frame.

You turn to the camera with wide eyes. “Well, I guess that’s the end of the video. Let me know what you guys thought about Kookie’s haircut and let me know what you want to see me do next.” You wave and the video cuts off.

Comments:

19dolcexcaviar96 (+1312) - Im brining a screenshot of Kook to the salon when my boyfriend gets his hair cut next week

-.-O.O>.>XO8Y (+847) - lol cook is me after lecture w a grande americano

SanaIsMyWifey (+617) - @Y/N teach us your boy finding ways 😖

#bts scenarios #bangtan #bts imagines #bts reactions #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook

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brayinghorses · 7 years

Text

Shit said in my AP Calculus class

T: “There it is.”

“Jump disc.”

“Your life is an asymptote.”

“What does that mean?” “Your mom.” “Thank you.”

“Is there a hole?!”

“Stop fisting each other!”

“The David Copperfield Theorem.“

“Oh my Goddd. I’m saying oh my god because I just realized that parallel lines have the same slope.”

“🎵Operator pleeease🎵”

“Nicholas where do I go from here?”

“Confetti.”

“This is like Math Debate 101”

“Consult yourself before asking me!”

“That’s a 2.” “Oh my God, I’m an idiot.” “We all knew that.”

“Lo d'hi less hi d'lo o lo squared🎵”

“Fusion is just a cheap tactic to make weak students smarter.”

“I’m gonna cry.”

“Wait, did I do something stupid?”

“I thought I was on a roll. Oh wait, I’m on a roll again.”

“It’s 7!”

“Es como una cebolla.”

“C E B O L L A”

“Ughh, this one is giving me diarrhea.” “Me too … which one?” “G(x) of that.” “Saaame.”

“Just like onions, composite functions make me cry.”

“Nooo, but the second one is different!”

“Waiii, Ms Raaayymoss!!!”

T: “This *rapid hand shaking* means anxiety

“I would’ve been right, but I did it wrong.”

T: “I hate everyone in this room.”

“That’s gonna be my senior quote: ‘This, parenthesis school parenthesis, kills the man.’”

T: “Close my door! … Thank you!”

“Did you know that you can stop it (the announcements)? You just throw a hammer at it.”

*scattered depressed yays*

T: “I’m gonna start teaching now, thanks.”

“Sin minus what in the hell ”

“Is it that y minus crap?”

T: “Cool, someone left their eraser, it’s mine now.”

“Ms, if I give you a quote, you’ll say it’s cheesy.” T: “Oh my god, are you still sensitive about that??” “Yes I’m still sensitive about that!”

“I did that once, she didn’t notice.” “Wait, do what?” “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you dying, more like, are you deading?”

T: *writing the answer on the board, which is -2cot(sinθ)csc^2(sinθ)cosθ* “That’s the alphabet.”

“That looks easy. Probably isn’t, but the illusion of easy is still there.”

“I don’t think it’s that hot. You’re all ugly. ... Are you gonna quote me?”

T: “Let’s try a more complicated problem.” “FNAF Sister Location.”

“WAII, IS THAT THE ANSWER? IS THE ANSWER THE QUESTION??” “We did it! THIS IS THE ULTIMATE ONION!”

“I dunno, I farted I guess”

T: “But you have no 3x here.” “...” “BOY, U THOT!” “Yeah, I thought.”

T: “If I could find your derivative, then I could be the one over you” (1/u)

“Well, what do you suck?” “Oh, the usual normal stuff. Nipples, obviously. Cortina’s penis. Oh wait, it doesn’t exist!”

“Wow, that looks, that looks, that looks like something I’d regret doing.”

“I’m Valery, of course I was gonna be born in October!”

“Nick got the opening gates of Heaven.” *aaHHH* T: “Yeah, that’s what it’s supposed to look like.”

“I don’t regret.”

“It’s not my fault, it’s *in unison* the problem’s fault.”

T: “du du du, oh who cares?” “I learn so much in math.”

T: *quiet cry of why*

“I would’ve gotten the points -- if I wasn’t such an idiot!”

“I’m so hurt.” “Matthew, this is HELL”

“How long does it take to render it?” “Uh.” “9 million years.” “Yeah, I’d estimate that”

*twins in unison* “Double the cream, double the fun. The new Oreos double stuffed”

“It’s Valery’s D”

“Look man, I don’t chose my socks”

“The way I wrote it, it says yey.” “YEY!”

“I got it, but I didn’t.” “What was it?” “The y. It’s not yey, it’s ey.”

*me and a friend singing Bet on It*

“Everything in math matters.”

“I don’t care anymore.” “Damn, Nigel doesn’t care anymore.”

“Man, I miss my gummy bears.” T: “At what rate did I eat those gummy bears?”

“You gotta draw the lake (leak).” T: ??? *draws squiggly* “No, the leak!” T: “Oh, leak? I thought you said lake!”

T: *draws a house* “Yo, that’s a face!” “That’s Squidward’s house!” “It’s a totem!”

That time I fooled a classmate

“I thought you said that my sexuality gives you the fractions.” “Obviously.”

“Stop reminding me that I forget basic math relations.” “What did you forget?” “4th grade math.”

“Can’t you just do that?” “No, you plebeian!”

“You have to multiply eveRYTHING”

“It concaves up.” T: “It concaves up.” “yOOOO” Class: “OHHHHHH” “We’re geniuses!”

T: “She (J) gets so excited when she understands something!” *class starts laughing* T: “No, I’m serious, it’s a good thing!” Student to J: “Is that why you’re never excited?” *class oohhhs*

“The only blue pen I have.” “It’s not even blue, it’s black!” “Well shit”

“You’re so squoosh!” “I’m just a skeleton with a layer of donuts”

*Psycho music plays* *class laughs* “The impending doom of the math that approaches!”

“What do you call a snake that is exactly 3.14 meters long? A π-thon!”

T: “Who has the (unit) circle?” “I like lowkey know it.” T: “Really lowkey.”

“Great. Now back to my regularly scheduled gay shit.”

“Nick the dick.”

“Nick the brick licks slick dick sticks.” “Nick the thick brick.” “Nick the sick thick chick brick licks slick dick sticks.”

T: “I’ve actually taken out the batteries of my remote control to put in my calculator.”

“Fuck yeah!” T: “Are you frustrated?” “No, I said ‘fuck yeah’!”

“I didn’t know why everyone was screaming POI until it finally hit me.” “Man, her mind was on POT.”

“She’s Jesus!”

“Look at this net, that I just found!” “I was thinking the exact same thing!” “NO STOP”

*me pointing at i* “BALD BALD BALD BALD”

“Do we use a calculator for this?” “No calculators, we die like men.”

“Error. Good job.”

T: “No me de esa cara.”

T: “Let’s see, what did I call it here ... nothing.”

“What in equation? What in optimization?”

T: “I was doing this in a rush. Never do things in a rush, guys.”

“You could get caught!” “I don’t give a shit.” “You’d lose $60!” “Oh shit, maybe 2 shits.”

T: “I’ll multiply everything by 3r^2.” “Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute -- is that legal?” T: “Yes.”

“My numbers are 50!”

“Not gonna lie, I said the word “coefficient”and I was surprised.”

“The naked F.”

“That could be there.”

“Ln is foolishproof, right?”

“What in approximation?”

“Is it fair?” T: “What is?” “Is it fair to flip them?” T: “Yeah!” “Is it legal?”

T: “1 2 3 4 5 6 7 oh whatever.”

“Why are you so extra?” “I’m not extra, you’re just not enough.”

“Will Patty get 2 tickets? *flips the eraser* Matthew.”

T: “You can move out the 3 if it bothers you so much, look at him, probrecito.”

“I thought it was some weird trendy calculus thing.”

“Darth Vader?”

“The answer is divide. The album. Buy it now.”

“YOU’RE a capital F!”

“Nigel, we’re not doing the quiz -- we’re doing the TEST!”

T: “I don’t, I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” “We’re all sorry.”

*about Nicholas* “He’s already failing, he’s a leftie.”

“With all this work, I’m gonna pull a Kelli.” “What do you mean?” “Cry for no reason.”

T: “It’s integrated in your integration work, haha.”

#my school #math #2016

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ixhadbadxdays · 7 years

Text

He Likes Me!; a Hamilton Cooking Fic

This is inspired by an rp I'm doing with @mcnticellos on Tumblr that is basically that summary above. We've only just started, but we had this silly idea of Philip being a taste-tester/food critic for Thomas' cooking and it kind of ran away from us when we talked about it in chat and I had to write a thing.

Because I am falling more in love with Marliza, I leave it up to you to decide in your mind if they've been together since day one and Alex and Eliza were bros and wanted kids, so they had Philip but Eliza was already married, OR if they were married and had Philip but then separated with Eliza marrying Maria later on for this or that reason. I'm not tagging Marliza in the relationships because I don't want to bait you guys into something that doesn't have what you're looking for.

Also, I HC that Maria and Philip make cupcakes a lot. She's the one with the trendy food blog/pinterest and Philip helps her make the things she posts. AND, that Philip wanted a toy kitchen rather than a playhouse or something. Kid likes to cook, alright?

This fic is just assuming that it's Alex's turn to have Philip for a bit.

This can also be found on my AO3.

Alex is trying to teach Thomas how to cook quick meals because he's tired of seeing Thomas eating take-out at work. Thomas claims he can cook but doesn't have the time, Alex calls BC because he can balance work and raising a kid just fine. Philip "helps."

Thomas was trying, he really was, but he had a small kid telling him off for his cooking because the midget idolized Gordon Ramsay, and Gordon Ramsay was known for mercilessly criticizing people's cooking.

This all started when Hamilton got onto him for eating out so much because he was too busy working to bother cooking anything. And it wasn't because he couldn't cook, Thomas just thought that he didn't have enough time. Hamilton's argument was "I'm working a full-time job where I sometimes have to take work home with me and am a single dad. If I can even find time to cook, so can you." And so that nosy asshole had all but kidnapped him. They'd picked up Philip on the way before they headed back to Hamilton's place. After telling the six-year-old the plan, he'd declared that he would be a judge of Thomas' cooking. That whole statement started a lengthy explanation from Hamilton about how much Philip loved Gordon Ramsay. To the point where the boy dressed up as him for last Halloween and criticized people's "candy making" at every doorstep. Hamilton had to apologize after every comment and give a brief explanation quietly. He'd tried to tell Philip that he couldn't be that mean, but the boy was adamant about staying true to how Gordon Ramsay was. It'd be adorable if it weren't pissing people off so much.

At least he wasn't swearing. Philip had asked Hamilton what Ramsay was saying during the beeps, and Hamilton had to make up "bad words." Nuts, dick, penis, and other phallic terms became cashews; fuck became fudge muffins; ass and shit became fudge nuggets; and so on.

Thomas was entertained by the image of Philip going around and saying those terms until they were aimed at him. Hamilton, on the other hand, was amused by the exchange, as Philip held up two slices of bread to either side of Thomas' head and asked him what he was. In fact, he snuck a recording of the boy standing on a kitchen chair and Thomas leaning over so Philip could reach him. The video was certainly going to be sent to Eliza, John, and even James--who would never let him live it down, the traitor.

Thomas heard Hamilton whisper "holy shit this is gold," at some point, which is how he knew about the recordings. He did not, however, know that Hamilton posted the video on Twitter, and then emailed it to Ramsay himself and said that his co-worker had the misfortune of Philip being the taste tester, along with being a fan of his. Misfortune was an understatement. Working as the top editor for the publishing company that wound up putting out all of Ramsay's books had its perks, apparently.

What eased his irritation was when Philip turned to his dad and asked in a not-as-quiet-as-he-thought whisper, "Papa, am I doing it right? I gotta be like Mr. Ramsay."

"Maybe be a little quieter about it. We're not in a noisy kitchen, but an apartment with neighbors that could hear you. We don't want to scare them, do we?" the man had whispered back.

Philip took a moment to think about this before he shook his head. "No. They're not the turd muffin (shitty) cooks. Mr. Thomas is."

Yes, that was definitely shared with the world and the world famous chef too, much to Thomas' disappointment.

However, an hour later, Philip actually told him he'd done a great job and that he loved his french onion soup; that eased the sense of overwhelming shame and endeared him to the kid a little. So older Hamilton was an idiotic asshole, but at least his kid could be decent when he wasn't pretending to be someone else. And the Blue Power Ranger apron his aunt Peggy had made him helped; holy shit was he adorable in that thing. Who could ever stay mad at a kid that cute? When he wasn't pretending to be Ramsay, he was the sweetest little thing that Thomas had ever seen; the boy was well-mannered, helped clean the dishes by drying the pots the best he could, and always had a cute smile for Thomas. If Thomas could melt, he'd melt right then and there at the sight.

Things got better when, at the end of the evening before Thomas went home, Hamilton got an email back from Ramsay, with a video attachment. Excited, he turned the volume way down to listen before he showed it to Philip.

"Philip! Philip, come sit on the couch with us a moment. I've got something for you to see!" Hamilton pulled up the two videos he'd taken of Philip and Thomas to show him first and explained that he emailed them to Ramsay. "And, he had something to say about it too."

Grinning, he pulled Philip into his lap and turned up the volume for all three of them to hear, and started the video Ramsay had sent back. The pure joy on that kid's face was the greatest thing Thomas would ever see in his life. Philip all but squealed, dancing a little in his dad's lap in excitement.

"Papa! Papa, he likes me! Can we show maman? We need to show maman! And aunt Peggy and uncle Hercules and and and...and everyone! They gotta see!" And so Hamilton forwarded the email to his circle of friends and family. Eliza called first to facetime him. "Maman! Mr. Ramsay likes me! He thinks I'm gonna be a great chef like him! Maman! He really really likes me!"

Eliza giggled and beamed at him from the small screen. "I saw! Your papa showed me the video. Aw Pip, that's so cool! I'm so proud of you. And I'm glad Mr. Ramsay likes you. You're a great person to like, you know." Philip preened at the praise, grinning widely at his mom.

His other mom, Maria, peeked into the camera and all but squealed. "Pippy! Look at you being a good chef! You're going to be just as good as Mr. Ramsay, if not even better, when you grow up. Just you wait." This also got a happy giggle out of the boy.

"Yes, I'm glad everyone is enjoying how great Philip is at yelling at me," Thomas mumbled.

Philip looked up at him with wide eyes, stunned, and then dropped the phone to throw himself at Thomas to hug him around the neck. "I'm sorry, Mr. Thomas!" He pulled back and pressed his hands to Thomas' cheeks, squishing them a little. "I'm sorry. You're a good cook too."

Holy shit this kid could get away with murder.

Thomas couldn't stop the small smile, "It's fine. Just remember to know when to be kind too, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Yep. Murder. The kid could be a serial killer and people would be all, 'aw he's too sweet and cute to do such a thing,' and he'd walk free. They probably wouldn't even arrest him. With a smile like that, Thomas was okay with that for now.

For now, he said. Keep being cute, kid, he thought to himself.

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avecorviidae · 5 years

Text

Fic: Aubade - Chapter Four

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 3696

Ao3 Link

His stomach is turning with how early it is, but he can’t seem to get back to sleep.

It’s been years since his dad leaving for work has woken him up, but he finds himself staring at his closet door nonetheless, listening to the muffled sounds from the hallway, his parents’ low voices murmuring something to each other, the soft jingling of keys and the tap tap tap of shoes on the floor as his dad moves from the front hall into the kitchen, and then back. It’s probably not that long in all, but it feels like an eternity before he finally hears the door slam, and the sound of a car starting outside. He hears his mother for a few moments longer, locking the door and then rustling around in the kitchen for a while, but she quickly retreats back into the bedroom—probably to go back to sleep—and the house falls silent once more.

He watches as the sunlight filters through his blinds, gradually illuminating his bedroom until the dull, muted shadows have transformed themselves into more familiar shapes. The alarm clock on his bedside table reads 7:19, which is frankly too early to be awake during summer break, but while Ritsu’s eyes are blurred and heavy with sleep, he’s not sure that he’s actually tired anymore. Or, rather, he’s too busy thinking to be tired.

He lazily shifts his gaze downwards, looking at Shou on the ground. His intricately crafted nest looks like it’s been through a natural disaster, with his single pillow lying halfway across the room at the foot of the door, the quilt that Ritsu had put down folded half in on itself, and Shou not actually on the pallet in the first place, instead having rolled off onto the carpet at some point during the night and taking most of the blankets in a twisted mess along with him. He’s face down on the floor, wrapped up in a cocoon with only his hair and a single leg escaping his burrow. As if on cue, he starts to shift around, making to roll over but getting caught in his blanket straightjacket, and settling on his stomach again with a muffled sigh. Ritsu takes a moment to be intensely jealous of Shou, who is probably on god-only-knows what timezone, and won’t wake up until noon at the earliest. “I mean, you don’t have to answer right now. Think about it, though?” Well, Ritsu’s thinking about it alright. It’s probably the reason he can’t get back to sleep. He rolls over to stare at the wall instead, Shou’s words from last night echoing in his mind. Really, it takes a certain type of person to drop a “let’s move in together” into a conversation, yawn, and then fall asleep without providing any further details or explanation.

The part of Ritsu’s mind that has been desperately trying to rationalize with his anxiety since middle school argues that it’s nothing to freak out over, and that he really shouldn’t start over-analyzing three sentences before Shou is even awake to explain them. The rest of Ritsu’s mind, which is analysis-oriented, exists in a state of complete structural and emotional chaos, and listens to no man, is just about ready to blow. Because, well, this could go one of two ways. On one hand, Shou could be serious. He might actually, legitimately, for whatever reason be suggesting that he and Ritsu get an apartment together, which... While appealing on the surface, it presents a whole range of issues and little details that he can’t be bothered to think about beyond a big chaotic ball of ‘this wouldn’t work’ in his mind. Still though, he finds himself quashing the impulse to go shake Shou awake and say ‘yes’ without a second thought, because details and obstacles always seem to be less concrete around Shou, but… Well, on the other hand. It could be something that he said while he was tired, and when he wakes up, he’ll either ignore it altogether, or brush it off with a laugh, and somehow that’s worse, because Ritsu is realizing with growing irritation that he wants Shou to be serious, which is stupid, this is a ridiculous idea, and it’s the kind of thing that requires serious consideration and planning and mutual discussions, not an offhanded suggestion right before falling asleep.

Wouldn’t he do that kind of thing totally impulsively, though? He sits up, shaking his head slightly to dispel the devil’s advocate in the back of his mind. This train of thought is going nowhere quickly, but it’s certainly not getting him anywhere nearer to sleep, so he might as well get up.

Shou is a heavy enough sleeper that Ritsu doesn’t worry about tiptoeing past him to reach the door, although he does take care not to step on his stray leg, and he opens and closes the bedroom door slowly to minimize the creaking. The wooden floor sticks to his bare feet as he pads down the hallway into the kitchen, following the vague smell of coffee floating around the house. Most of the pot that his dad must’ve brewed this morning is gone, probably poured into a thermos so that he could drink it on the drive, but there’s just enough left for Ritsu to fill one mug. For a few minutes he just leans against the counter, nursing his drink in silence. He knows, rationally, that there have been some moments of silence over the last year, but he’s still having trouble processing it in large amounts, this state of nothing in the house making noise except for his own breathing. No TV on in the other room, no loud Skype calls from elsewhere in the dorm, no shouting or music from down the hall, no horns or revving engines or street vendors outside of the window. It doesn’t feel real. After a while, the near-unreality gets to be too much, and he pulls out his phone to satisfy the nagging voice in his mind. Once he’d graduated, his brother had never woken up before ten in the morning, but his partner…

TO: TERUKI You awake FROM: TERUKI Of course! :0 but why are you?? Suspicions confirmed, Ritsu flips to Teru’s contact page and hits call. He most likely won’t be interrupting anything; Teru usually isn’t awake early for any specific reason, he’s just a morning person, because of course he is. He’s probably already back from a morning bike ride, sitting in the kitchen drinking a smoothie made of some bizarre trendy health fruit. “Little brother?” Teru picks up on the second ring. “Hey. You knew that Shou was coming back here, right?” There are a few moments of silence, but Ritsu waits. “...He may have mentioned it to me at some poin-” “Don’t bullshit me, Hanazawa, you had yesterday completely planned.”

Ritsu hears a soft, static-filled sigh on the other end of the line before Teru starts to speak again. “I hope you’re not hurt by the fact that he didn’t tell you? He was worried you would be, he wanted to back out of the whole thing… it was really me who told him to keep the secret for the sake of the surprise.”

The thing is, the thing is, Ritsu hadn’t even thought to be angry at Shou for not telling him he was coming home, he’d just been glad that he was there. He wonders when he stopped considering Shou’s presence a given in his life. Still, this was getting off-track. “No, it’s- I’m not. But, uh, did he tell you anything about his plans for once he got here?” It’s a bit of a long shot, sure. He’s not really sure how long Teru’s been sitting on the fact that Shou was coming back; it could’ve been two months, two weeks, or two days, giving them just enough time to actually plan the meetup. “Oh, you mean the fact that he’s staying for good? Yes, he told me.” Yeah, let’s go with that, Ritsu thinks. It’s close enough. “Yeah. Do you know where he’s planning on living?” He asks the question deliberately, lightly enough that if Teru genuinely doesn’t know a thing, he won’t take note of it, but if he’s bullshitting as much as Ritsu thinks he might be, it’ll cut through all of Teru’s deflections and get to the heart of the matter. Sure enough, when Teru responds, the jovially innocuous tone has been dropped, instead replaced with a dry, “He asked you, didn’t he?” Ritsu struggles to find the right way to phrase what he’s thinking, but eventually settles on a blunt, “Was he joking?” “Did you turn him down?” And now Teru sounds genuinely surprised, almost sputtering, although reasonably that could be the unreliable phone connection. No, wait, Ritsu hears a faint, “Shit, my blueberries!” on the other end, followed by distant clattering. He takes a moment to feel vaguely guilty for whatever breakfast food he just accidentally ruined. “He fell asleep before I could say anything. Did. He. Mean. It.” At this point it’s clear that Teru knows far more than he’s letting on, and Ritsu can be as bratty and grumpy as he likes about it, but Teru will probably remain cryptically neutral and try and force Ritsu to solve his own problems, because he’s actually a good friend, even if Ritsu kind of hates him for it most of the time. As predicted, once given the high ground again, Teru’s voice goes airy and vague. “What do you think, Ritsu? What would your plans be, in his place?” Ritsu’s first instinct is to say live in my giant fucking house, but… would he? Over the years, Ritsu hasn’t spent much time in Shou’s house, but he still remembers its sprawling, sparse rooms, its high gothic ceilings, its impersonal style, like it had been furnished to be a model home. More importantly, he knows that for periods, however brief, Shou lived in that house with his father. Teru, because he’s decent enough at leading a horse to water but can’t quite resist giving it one last hint that it’s supposed to be drinking, gives one last thought before hanging up. “He’s spent the better part of two days on a plane or in an airport. Don’t you think, after all that, the only thing you’d want would be to sleep in an actual bed? Instead, I’m guessing he spent the night on your floor.”

“Mom?” He steps into the kitchen, still scrubbing the damp towel over his hair to get rid of any stray dripping.

He’d spent a while kicking around in the living room, flipping through the TV and ending up on another episode of the same soap opera. It must’ve been on a marathon, because he’d still been watching it when his mother had finally gotten up and stolen the remote privileges from him, so that she could watch the tv while she was cooking. She’d then booted him out of the living room entirely, until he was “showered and dressed like a responsible adult,” which had taken him… probably a bit longer than entirely appropriate. By the time he’d finally felt gross enough to get out of bed and shower, it was because the sun was high in the sky and his room was uncomfortably warm. Today’s a baking day, apparently, judging by the absolute chaos of the kitchen. It’ll never fail to amaze him how his mother can make an entire meal and only leave a sinkful of dishes, but when it comes to baking, suddenly there’s three pans, fifteen bowls, and every spoon in the house strewn about the kitchen at random, coupled with streaks of batter and random starbursts of flour scattered on every available surface. Even without the clutter, the sweet smell filling the kitchen and rapidly spreading to the rest of the house gives it away. Curiously, he wanders over to the sink, peeking into one of the pans filled halfway with soapy water. Dark streaks of caramel climb the inside of the pot. Ah, Ritsu thinks, understanding suddenly dawning. He hears his mother’s voice from the hallway, just a moment before she steps into the room behind him. “Ritsu? You called– oh, there you are. Yes, yes, I know,” she tuts at his knowing smile, “they’re almost ready. Now, go get Suzuki up. He gets first taste.”

“Aw, what? I asked you to make them in the first place–” his protest is short-lived, ended by a flour-covered spatula to the arm. He ducks past her and out of the kitchen before she can start properly shooing him, and closes his bedroom door behind him with a small click. Shou has migrated again while Ritsu was in the shower, this time rolling over to the other side of the pallet, but still refusing to actually sleep on it. One of his arms has escaped the blanket cocoon now, and it’s stretched on the carpet above his head, drifting close enough to the edge of the room that Ritsu thinks he probably flung it up there and whacked his hand against the wall at some point. Ritsu crouches down by Shou’s head and taps him on the shoulder lightly, once, twice. “Shou? You awake?” Shou makes a low noise, not quite a groan, but definitely not awake enough to be a hum of acknowledgement. Ritsu just puts it down to Shou’s chronic inability to shut up.

Ritsu shifts so that he’s sitting more comfortably, legs curled underneath him and propping himself up on one hand. He tries again, this time shaking Shou’s shoulder until his eyes slowly blink open, looking up at Ritsu, bleary and unfocused. This time, the noise he makes is definitely awake, a disgruntled whine that makes Ritsu huff a quiet laugh.

He pulls away and leans back, giving Shou a dry smile. “Well good morning, Sunshine.”

Shou squints, before mumbling, “Morning? No. Never mind,” and making to roll over again. Ritsu grabs the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and tugs him back before he can, countering, “Almost one in the afternoon, actually.” That gets a sigh of resigned defeat, and Shou rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. There’s a pretty incredible imprint of the carpet on his face, climbing in red lines from his cheek to his temple. “Don’t wanna get up. Floor’s nice. Ritsu, your floor is good.” “Thank you.” He can’t quite keep the laugh out of his voice, or the grin off of his face, but he does actually make an attempt to get them back on task. “Even so, you do have to get up. We’ve got stuff to talk about.” Ritsu mentally kicks himself, because that was a dick move, dropping a ‘we need to talk’ in there first thing after he wakes up, and he just hopes that Shou’s still too out of it to have noticed. “Plus, there’s food in the kitchen. C’mon, up.” With some more struggling, Ritsu manages to get Shou on his feet and shuffling to the kitchen, although he’d had to compromise with the blankets, allowing him to keep one of the bigger, fuzzy ones wrapped around his shoulders like a cape and trailing behind him like a bridal train. He lets Shou lean most of his weight against Ritsu’s side, because otherwise he’s a little worried Shou will wander straight into the wall.

He pauses under the archway to the kitchen, pulling Ritsu to a halt with a tug on his arm. Ritsu watches him squint, take a deep breath, and he murmurs, “Smells like…” and then his eyes go wide, and he’s grinning at Ritsu, so abruptly awake it’s almost starting. “I love this family,” he says, before he’s bounding into the kitchen, blanket still flowing behind him.

Ritsu knows for a fact that those cookies are still hot, especially taking into account the caramel factor, so he just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in resignation when Shou grabs one off of the cooling rack and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. He’s not sure if pyrokinesis gives one immunity to all burns or if Shou just genuinely doesn’t care, but either way he seems unfazed, closing his eyes with a groan that’s borderline obscene.

Ritsu’s mother, hovering by the sink, is watching him with roughly the same dry bemusement that Ritsu is, although she does actually move to shoo him away from the counter before he can do something silly like try and float the entire tray away, or further damage the inside of his mouth. She stacks about half of the cookies onto a plate and sends them off with it, and Ritsu feels about fifteen years old again, sitting on the floor of his bedroom with his best friend and eating cookies for breakfast at one in the afternoon. Shou’s sitting cross-legged on the pallet, munching on one of the little cookies and probably getting crumbs all over the floor in the process. “So,” he says around a mouthful, leaning one elbow on his knee, “you said we were gonna talk?” Ritsu’s already given up phrasing this delicately before the conversation has even properly begun, so he doesn’t hesitate to say, “Yeah, about what you said last night.” Aside from lighting up in recognition, Shou’s expression gives very little away, but his leg instantly starts to bounce, just a little, beating up and down like a hummingbird wing. “Oh, right. I was just, thinking about it, I guess?” He shrugs a little. He’s clearly trying to keep his voice casual, but his nerves are about as subtle as a brick to the face. Ritsu stays silent, cueing him to continue, to explain his thoughts. Give Shou enough time and he will start talking, eventually.

“I’m not really gonna stay in that house. I might, uh, sell it? Or rent it out? Whatever. But I’m gonna look for an apartment somewhere. I don’t know where yet, but I’ve been thinking maybe around here or further north. I just thought that, y’know, with your dorm and all, you might wanna get out and into a proper place.”

That’s a lot of information for Ritsu to process. About halfway through, his explanation had started to sound almost rehearsed, meaning he’s thought about this. Shou’s stopped even trying to look at Ritsu, instead staring intently at his hands twisting in his lap, and Ritsu is just staring, and trying not to think about the fact that Shou has basically just admitted that he’s been looking at apartments near Grain City.

“Shou, I…” he starts, trails off into silence, sighs as he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Shou’s shoulders are hunched, like he’s bracing himself for what Ritsu’s going to say. He takes a breath and tries to start again. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” and the reluctance in his voice is genuine, “but the reason I’m in dorms in the first place is that I can’t afford an apartment. I can’t pay rent, or the bills, hell, I can barely contribute to the groceries as is.” Shou’s head shoots up and his eyes meet Ritsu’s, staring at him in open surprise. “Oh, I didn’t even think about… I don’t care about that.”

And, oh, Ritsu is an idiot, he’s actually just plain stupid. Of course money isn’t an issue for Shou. Between his father’s numerous global ventures, inheritance money, and a massive trust fund that had opened up for Shou when he’d turned eighteen, paying full rent on an apartment, even somewhere like Grain City, is probably nothing for him.

He’s immediately resistant to the idea of Shou paying for everything for both of them, taking advantage of him and always feeling like he’ll owe him something in return. The little devil’s advocate starts jabbering in the back of his mind, though, argues that he’ll probably do that anyways. Regardless of whether Ritsu’s living with him, Shou will get an apartment, and if he’s close enough to the university, Ritsu will probably be spending a decent amount of time over there, hanging out and mooching off of his wifi and the peace and quiet that he can’t get in his dorm.

Besides, and the voice is smug, like a lawyer giving the closing statement after the most one-sided case of his life. It sounds irritatingly like Teru.

You know he doesn’t want to live alone. Ritsu leans back until he can reach for his backpack, and tugs out a notepad and a pen. He flips it open to a blank page. “Right,” he says, pointing the pen right at Shou’s nose, “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together, and we’re doing it right. We are not jumping into this blind and ending up in a shithole with no ceiling.”

Shou stares cross eyed at the tip of the pen for a moment, face blank, before he lights up, and Ritsu swears to god that the room gets just a little bit brighter. He scooches across the floor to press up against Ritsu’s side. “Gameplan time?” “Yep.”

Within an hour, their list reads as follows:

find an apartment

move out of dorm (paperwork???? talk to $ aid guy)

get dog DO NOT GET DOG

move into aptmt

furniture??

spoons silverware

towels

we need cups right

plates????

IKEA

Ritsu scans over the list on the floor in front of them, tapping the pen absently against Shou’s knee. “This is… a lot,” he says, with some trepidation. “We’re gonna have to go up and look at apartments before the the week is up, if we want to be moved in by the end of summer.” He’ll be sad to cut his visit short, considering just how little he gets to see his family, and he can already sense the impending stress that this move is going to cause. Still, he can’t help being excited, caught up in Shou’s boundless enthusiasm, especially seeing it all laid out as a concrete plan in front of him. “Do you think your mom will let us take the rest of the cookies?”

“Yes, Shou.”

#/#//#///#////#/////#robin fic #mp100 fic #fic: aubade

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bleep0bleep · 7 years

Text

for @fauvistfly, who wanted something with pining and stiles being a singer rated T, 2.3k also on AO3 here

It’s four am and the diner is quiet. Derek finishes wiping down a table; life as usual, he’s alone, he’s at work, everything goes on as it does. He refills coffee for the two tired-looking truckers sitting at the counter and goes back to refilling the salt shakers.

The last time Cora was home, she’d asked if he and Laura ever considered selling the place. “Doesn’t do much business,” she said, trying to be gentle. Say it was okay to let go. But she’d only been a baby when the accident happened that took their parents; she didn’t have memories growing up here the way Derek and Laura did, playing hide-and-seek under the counters, watching their dad bake pies and their mom fill coffee, listening to travelers talk about their lives on the road.

Hale’s is fifty miles from the nearest town in either direction, a blink-and-miss-it diner still stuck in the ‘50s, right off the Pacific Coast Highway. The little town of Beacon Hills is an hour away, so almost all the patrons are travellers, people looking for respite from the road, on their way up to the redwoods or heading down to San Francisco and Los Angeles. There’s a little wall of autographs from famous people who’ve dined here; cowboys and starlets and authors and people Derek’s parents took a shine to. The diner is a historic landmark, not to mention it’s always been home to Derek.

So Laura manages the day shift and Derek does the night. It works out well; he doesn’t have to interact with people much. He and Laura were homeschooled until high school, and Derek had found Beacon Hills High School overwhelming with its crowds.

The radio starts a new song; it’s one of Derek’s favorites. He doesn’t remember the name of the artist, but it makes Derek feel alive. The song lyrics aren’t particularly sensual, but the man’s voice is— Derek shudders, feeling his blood run hot under his skin, and he imagines the warm touch of someone pulling him close, embracing him, kissing him—

“Can I take this coffee to go?”

“Oh. Sure,” Derek says, pouring the trucker’s coffee into a plastic cup.

They leave him a decent tip and are off, the bell jingling as they go.

Derek sighs, watching the moonlight dance across the ocean in the distance. He listens to the rustling of the trees, and occasionally a car will drive past the diner, lights blaring.

He turns off the radio and hums the song to himself as he sweeps up.

There’s longing here, of a love long lost, and Derek is lost to the song, to the memories it drags up.

Nothing but the sound of waves crashing on the shore, the white hot sun burning just beyond Derek’s closed eyes. He can feel the warm body next to him stir awake, and then fingers carding through his hair.

“Derek… hey. You awake?”

“Nope,” Derek says, and he can already picture it: Stiles leaning over him, his hair still wet, eyes bright with laughter.

“You sure?” Stiles climbs on top of him, hands trailing down Derek’s chest.

Derek opens his eyes and Stiles is right there, close enough for Derek to count his eyelashes. “Yeah, definitely still asleep. Best dream I ever had,” Derek says, tugging Stiles’ chin close so he can kiss him.

Stiles laughs, and Derek rolls them over so he’s on top, which results in Stiles indignantly trying to get back the upper hand. It’s a fight neither of them care about winning, and it’s all new, so new, the daring thrill of Stiles’ bare skin, already freckling in the sun.

They’ve only ever kissed, and every touch is electric to Derek. Does Stiles want more? Would he want more? Derek knows Stiles… experienced. Derek is not.

They talked about it, Derek being a virgin, and Stiles had said it didn’t matter, he loved Derek anyway, and they could do whatever Derek wanted and that was it. Blushing, Derek had made an over-the-clothes rule only when they started dating, and now with Stiles underneath him, soft skin and breathing quick Derek wants, he wants Stiles so badly. He loves him, and it’s the right time.

So under the hot summer sun Derek says yes, and Stiles’ eyes widen and he gets to his feet, pulling Derek along, all the way up the path as they run back towards the Hale house, tucked away in the woods atop the cliff.

The bell rings again, and Derek is looking at his own sorry reflection in the shining countertop. It’s been a long time since he was sixteen. This damn song, it’s too much.

“Sit wherever, I’ll be there in a minute,” Derek says, not looking away. He hasn’t shaved in days. Laura’s moved to Beacon Hills, she doesn’t mind the commute, prefers being with people, living with her fiance. Derek still lives in the house in the woods behind the diner, but he might as well be a hermit.

He turns the radio back on, and the station immediately starts playing the song again. Derek groans. It might be a favorite, but he doesn’t want to think about Stiles. Not right now. He switches the station immediately.

“Not a fan?”

Derek really doesn’t want to talk about this with a stranger, especially how Stiles moved away right after summer was over and Derek never saw him again.

“What can I get you?” Derek asks, ignoring the question. He flips open his notebook and looks up and freezes.

The eyes are the same: warm brown amber, bright and curious. Stiles’ shoulders are broader, his hair styled in a trendy haircut, and he’s here in Derek’s diner, leaning forward with a slow, sure smile.

“Coffee, please.”

Derek takes a deep breath; he looks different, he knows. It’s probable Stiles doesn’t remember him, and he takes a minute to compose himself while he grabs the pot. Stiles had gone off to Los Angeles for college, but that was ten years ago.

He looks good, whatever he’s been doing.

Derek’s just been here.

He pours the coffee and pretends to busy himself with other tasks. Stiles sips it and every so often will look up at Derek, and he opens his mouth to say something, and then his phone rings.

Stiles answers it with quick, annoyed quips. “No, I’m fine, you don’t need to send— I told you I’m fine, I’ll talk to you on Monday, you don’t have to worry— I just took a drive, okay? Yes— yes— fine. Talk to you later.”

Derek isn’t eavesdropping; this Stiles is practically a stranger, the boy he loved walked out of his life ten years ago. But he’s hanging on every word all the same, drinking in every detail of the man Stiles has become.

The diner is silent except for the clink clink of Stiles stirring his coffee with his spoon.

“Derek?”

It’s so soft and hesitant that Derek thinks he imagined it, and he turns around, blinking at Stiles.

Stiles is blushing. “Sorry, I thought you might be— um— do you know the Hales, they lived here, owned this diner?”

“I’m Derek,” he says, his heart pounding.

“Oh,” Stiles says, and he swallows. “I don’t know if you remember me— I used to live in Beacon Hills. We—”

“Stiles,” Derek nods, trying for casual, hoping his face doesn’t betray him. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He relaxes a bit and smiles at him. “How are you?”

Derek’s about to say he’s fine, give Stiles the same one-sentence spiel he gives to anyone who wanders in from Beacon Hills, old high school classmates. But he sits down, instead and lets Stiles draws him into easy conversation, just like it was before.

Stiles has been doing well. More than well, apparently finding success as a singer and songwriter.

“I’d love to hear your work,” Derek says, and Stiles shrugs it off and asks about him.

Derek talks about his garden, about baking, about the diner, Laura’s wedding plans, Cora’s adventures as a photographer for National Geographic.

He wants to bottle up Stiles’ laughter and keep it. He wants to keep Stiles, wants this easy banter back in his life.

The radio is still on in the background, and the song comes back to the one before.

Stiles laughs. “You can change it, if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” Derek says. “I actually really like this song. It just— when you came in, I’d already been listening to it and thinking about it and I— I was thinking about you, actually. And that summer.”

Stiles bites his lip.

“And I’ve missed you,” Derek says, because he might as well. He shrugs and smiles halfheartedly, almost laughing at himself. “I mean, I know it was one summer and we only— I—” Surely Stiles doesn’t think about this time the way Derek does, holding onto those bright days when he feels lonely, Stiles is gorgeous and successful and surely has moved on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch,” Stiles says abruptly. “At first I couldn’t and then the more I waited the harder it was to just… call and say hi.”

He glances over at the radio, now playing the last chorus of the song. I never want to say goodbye, the singer croons, and then Derek realizes Stiles is singing softly along. It’s his voice, rich and heady and filled with longing.

“It’s about you,” Stiles says. “A lot of them are, but I... I was just tired of not knowing, and hating myself for never trying to find you, and then putting it off like what if you were married or you hated me or... I just drove up here to see if you, if you still…”

He looks so hopeful, for a second Derek is transported immediately back to senior year, and Stiles is asking him out on a date.

“I want to say yes,” Derek says. “My life is here, though. With the diner and everything. Yours… isn’t.” He thinks about the glimpses of the glitzy life Stiles doesn’t speak of; the busy schedule, the tours.

“It can be, though,” Stiles says. “I can write from anywhere, and I want to try.”

Stiles’ hands are trembling, and Derek can see how much he hasn’t changed, how much he’s still that same, nervous boy he fell in love with all those years ago.

Derek reaches across the table and takes Stiles’ hands in his and smiles. “I think that would be great,” he says.

Stiles yawns and smiles sleepily back at him. “Great. How about dinner tomorrow... night…” he yawns again.

“You didn’t drive all the way from Los Angeles, did you?” Derek startles.

“I kind of did? I had lots of coffee. It was only like, nine hours.”

Laura will be here to open the diner at five am; Derek doubts being closed for less than an hour will bother their customers. “Come on,” he says. “I still live in the back.”

“Why, Derek,” Stiles says, winking at him. “Are you asking me to spend the night?”

“In the guest bedroom,” Derek says, shaking his head fondly, although his stomach flips at the thought of Stiles in his bed, Stiles curled up beside him.

Stiles lets Derek help him up and follows him along the path to the house, chuckling as he looks up at the moon. Derek can’t help but laugh along, taking comfort in warmth of Stiles’ hand in his.

“Do you remember when we snuck back here for the first time we—”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “You were so excited you tripped over the stairs.”

Stiles laughs sheepishly. “Come on, I was a teenager and I was dating you and when you said you wanted to have sex I just— you can’t blame me, okay! I was overwhelmed!”

Derek laughs as he ushers Stiles inside, pointing out the step and carefully making sure Stiles avoids it.

“I never told you...” Stiles says, his face red. “But I know everyone at school talked about how experienced and stuff I was, and I didn’t really do anything not to encourage the rumors, but I… you were my first too, Derek.”

“Oh,” Derek says.

“I just wanted it to be perfect for you.” Stiles stops at the foot of the stairs, blinking nervously.

“It was.” Derek steps closer and bridges the distance between them, kissing Stiles softly.

The empty house is silent, but for once it doesn’t quite feel so lonely anymore.

Stiles makes a small, pleased noise, and then he’s kissing back, eager and open.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” Stiles says, between kisses. “Even when I was with other— you were just—”

“I’ve never had anyone else,” Derek admits.

“Derek,” Stiles gasps. He presses his forehead to Derek’s, and they hold each other for a long moment before Derek shyly gestures him forward.

He kicks off his shoes and Stiles does the same, looking around the room curiously. “Very cozy for a guest bedroom.”

“This is my bedroom.” Derek sits on the mattress, looks up at Stiles.

Stiles nearly trips on the rug in his haste to get to the bed, making Derek laugh. He hands Stiles the good pillow, the fluffier one, and watches Stiles sigh as he lays down.

“Your window faces east,” Stiles murmurs. “It’s gonna be hella bright in the morning.”

“Mmm,” Derek says, throwing an arm over Stiles, and then a leg for good measure, curling in close.

“We should get blackout curtains. Sleep in.”

Derek smiles, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. He’s thought about it, but it always seemed like too much trouble. He’s always just dealt with it.

Stiles turns to face him, and tucks his head under Derek’s chin, like he belongs there.

Derek drifts off to sleep, already thinking about which closet he can clear out for Stiles’ things, about the blueberries field just ripe for picking, so those would make for good pancakes tomorrow, and he should tell Laura not to worry about finding him a date for her wedding.

Stiles is pressing a kiss to his neck. “I normally hate mornings, but I can’t wait to wake up with you.”

Derek can’t help but agree.

#sterek #my fiction #singer!stiles #musician!stiles #diners #fluff #pining

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dinnerwithspencer · 7 years

Photo

Spicy Chicken Tagine

When I first moved to New York, I had never had Indian food before. I had never had authentic Japanese, Mediterranean, and sadly, I had never even HEARD of Thai food (I know, crazy).

I grew up in a small, mostly white, Connecticut town where you either ate the food your parents cooked, or a pizza/sandwich from one of the local restaurants.

No one talked about food outside of “Jersey Mike’s” or the local deli. We ate McDonalds after school and thought it was awesome (I mean, I still love double cheeseburgers, but that’s beside the point).

Thankfully, my mom cooked, and while it wasn’t ethnically-diverse food, it sure was good.

Thanks to my mom, I was eating quinoa and kale salad before it went trendy. We ate Swedish cardamom bread, carbonara with canadian bacon, and made real christmas cookies using an old-fashioned press.

And even though the food was great (and ignited my early interest in cooking), it was pretty “vanilla” in terms of flavor or complexity (don’t be offended mummy, you know I love your cooking <3).

To be fair, my mom did bring home things like seaweed salad and often made Tabbouleh, which is technically a Levantine dish, but I hate parsley, so I never ate it much! ;)

Because of my upbringing, it’s really no wonder my first time trying things like curry, tom kha gai, khao soi, shakshuka, halloumi, knackebrot, niboshi, pau bhaji, and real Japanese ramen (among other things!) BLEW MY FUCKING MIND!

When I opened my palate to these recipes, I became obsessed with the flavors from cultures unlike my own.

I wanted to learn everything, from the ingredients that make curry so creamy to the techniques that make khao soi so spicy. After trying these flavors, I insisted on always ordering takeout from only 3 places: Babu Ji (Indian), Pig & Khao (Southeast Asian), and Kiin Thai Eatery (Thai).

I won’t go out for breakfast unless it’s Israeli in style, featuring things like Shakshuka, labne, chopped salad, tahini, or fresh pita. Without these things, it’s just not a true breakfast to me.

I’m telling you this story to illustrate the importance of being open to other cultures...and the way that happens is through immigration.

Without immigrants, our country would have NO flavor. It would have no complexity. It would be boring, and quite truly, “vanilla,” (literally and figuratively) like my experience with food before I moved to this wonderful city I now call home.

Maybe we can’t all agree on the same political policies, but come on, WE ALL EAT.

We all enjoy great-tasting food and trying flavors our mouths have never tasted before, and without immigrants, it’s impossible to experience such significant cultural moments without leaving our borders.

Being exposed to new styles of cooking and cultures didn’t just reignite my interest in cooking, it caused an EXPLOSION in my heart that drives me to learn and create every single day.

And for this reason, it absolutely breaks my heart to see my friends, coworkers, and strangers suffering from the immigration restrictions that are being put in place by the GOP.

In my eyes, we all suffer when restrictions are placed on our borders, and this is especially true when it comes to the food we eat in restaurants and the recipes we’re able to learn from others unlike ourselves.

In honor of the immigrants who have brought insane levels of flavor into our country (and into my belly), I’m sharing with you a recipe I learned from Balaboosta (which in Yiddish means “perfect housewife”)--a Mediterranean cookbook by Israeli-born chef, Einat Admony (chef, author, and owner of 3 New York restaurants).

The recipe is a classic Mediterranean dish, a spicy chicken tagine which is both warming in the belly, and hopefully, in the heart.

I hope this recipe and story can inspire you to appreciate how immigration benefits us all, and to perhaps feel further empathy in your own heart when observing the suffering of those unlike yourself.

Spicy Chicken Tagine

Ingredients

3 lbs chicken thighs (with skins and bones--this is KEY!)

1 orange

2 teaspoons kosher salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 cups chicken stock

2-3 tablespoons of Harissa

2 tablespoons sweet Hungarian paprika

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground turmeric (optional--we did this!)

1 preserved lemon (or 1 fresh lemon cut into small wedges)

10 whole garlic cloves

2 fennel bulbs, cut into ½-inch-thick wedges

2 leeks, white and light green parts only (or 1 yellow onion, cut into 2-inch pieces)

¾ cup black olives, pitted (we did black olives + a medley of marinated olives that we like)

1 cup of fresh mint leaves, coarsely chopped or torn into pieces (divided)

Directions

Preheat oven to 350F.

Remove the skin from the orange (with just a tiny bit of the underlying pith remaining) using a sharp knife and following the curve of the fruit. Reserve the peel for later and squeeze the juice from the orange. You should get about 1 cup, but if not use another orange to make up the difference (or use store-bought orange juice or even water in a pinch)

Season the chicken thighs with salt and pepper and set aside. Put the chicken stock, orange juice, harissa, paprika, cumin, and turmeric into a large Dutch oven or other heavy pot (we used a bit pyrex, which was OK, but would have preferred something deeper and better for this type of cooking). Stir well so everything is properly coated. Throw in the lemon, orange peel, garlic cloves, fennel, leeks, olives, half of the mint, and the chicken pieces. Toss together until everything is coated really well.

Turn the chicken skin side up (and make sure the skin is showing through all of the liquid and veggies surrounding it) and bake in the covered dutch oven for 1 hour. After the hour, crank up the oven to 425F, remove the lid, and allow the skin of the chicken to crisp up (and the juices to reduce), about 30 minutes.

Just before you serve, scatter the remaining fresh mint over the chicken.

#mediterranean #recipe #israeli #tagine

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adoringbeautyblog · 5 years

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1 Do a session of people watching at Pret a Manger or Maison Kaiser, while sipping on a Grande Cappuccino!

We watched a man unpack his ‘entire life’ while we were having our usual morning Cappuccino’s & Chocolate Chip Cookies (which are to die for btw). He set up his business there, with patience & dedication, for which we had great admiration. NYC has many Pret a Manger’s to pop into if you would like to quickly grab something to eat & use the restrooms. The friendly staff definitely makes the world’s difference to your morning mood! I loved watching people walk past the glass window dressed so beautifully, looking stylish & well-groomed. The morning vibe on the streets of Manhattan is relaxed and refreshing. Many people sit inside, drinking a coffee, and working on their laptop. It is just an amazing culture to experience! Oh, before I forget, for absolutely delicious treats you have to taste something sweet at Maison Kaiser (there are a few of them around Manhattan too)! Their pastries, tarts, and cakes are absolutely addictive!

2 Go inside the New York Public Library…it’s just like in the movies!

Shhh! People are actually studying and working in there for real! Just pretend to be an insignificant statue, or a potplant if you like, for a few minutes and absorb the intricate detail of the heavenly ceiling, the grand lights hanging from above, the arched windows, the smell of the wooden desks and the shiny bookshelves stacked with books that are probably older than you are. Then, snap back to reality and appreciate how incredible it is that the city maintains the entire building so beautifully that it can be used by people every day. When you realise you are no longer a statue, which will become very apparent once lots of other eager tourists bump into you, just remember to take a snapshot to look back on this captivating experience one day.

3 Put on your little black dress, red lipstick and go watch Pretty Woman: The Musical on Broadway

If you are like me, an absolute sucker for romantic comedies, do yourself a favour and watch Pretty Woman: The Broadway Musical. The acting was incredible and the overall experience was surreal. The seats are positioned closely together…so get yourself ready for a chat with your ‘neighbour’! Sitting next to me, was a young woman who had worked as an au-pair for a family in the States, while simultaneously exploring the rest of the USA. She made a spur of the moment decision to watch the Broadway show before returning to Australia the following day. Lucky us for her spontaneous decision, otherwise we would have never had a chance to learn of so many travel tips. I was just a little late for one of them… don’t be the silly ‘goody two shoes’, envious of another person’s water bottle like I was, abidingly throwing my H2O in the trash can as we walked into the Nederlander Theatre. You can buy refreshments there, however, it is quite expensive. On another note, to my surprise, they even incorporated a bit of Opera into the musical, which certainly was a significant moment in our evening. Why? Well, my husband really, and I mean really, dislikes the Opera! I imagine I must have probably looked like a frog, with my chin practically dropping on the floor, as I looked at my husband’s facial expression with utter amazement. He LOVED it! There was a smile! Oh, happy days! I think all the ‘boring’ ballet & musical productions that his parents dragged him to over the years had finally paid off. Thanks, mom & dad!

4 Go out for dinner at Marta’s & become hypnotized by their relaxing & romantic atmosphere

After a long day of sight-seeing in one of the greatest cities in the world, it is worth winding down in a hip & trendy restaurant loved by NYC locals, where you can have an intimate conversation catching up on all the awesome tourist attractions that you have explored so far. The lighting at Marta’s is stunning and sets the tone for the evening. Be sure to try their pizza! I would really suggest using an app called, Open Table, to find & book restaurants in NYC. You can easily adjust the settings to your needs & it definitely has the convenience factor going for it.

5 Stand on top of the world, literally, at the Empire State Building

And before you ask…YES! It certainly is worth it! My hubby & I bought ‘Skip the Line’ (VIP Express Pass) tickets and it was a wonderful experience. I think the entire outing took us around one and a half hours, that’s opposed to waiting in line and potentially becoming a half day activity, or so we were told. I just thought, goodness, we can’t come back to South Africa and endure yet another ‘dizzying’ experience every time we go out to watch a movie. Yes, I’m talking about that preview that begins at the bottom of the Empire State Building and eventually ends among the stars somewhere in space. So, we just had to see the real thing! And let me tell you, the preview isn’t far from the truth. That is one tall building!

6 What’s the next best thing to having a burger with the president? Have one at the Trump Grill, Trump Towers!

My hubby was so excited to see the Trump Towers and not on the TV show called, The Apprentice, but the actual building in NYC, now surrounded by the Secret Service since Trump became president. For the ladies, it is right next to Tiffany & Co, which recently opened the Blue Box Cafe if you would like to indulge in something sweet and perhaps something shiny. But, what do hubbies usually need when they come along for shopping? Food! Yup, as soon as I spot something pretty to potentially buy, my hubby, of course, must eat NOW! So, we ate at the Trump Grill and to my surprise, the food & service was really great! It was an amazing experience that I would certainly suggest! Kudos to my hubby!

7 Take an early morning jog through Central Park or just chill on a park bench

If you are one of those people who can actually fit running shoes into your suitcase, unlike myself, who admittedly must sit on top of my suitcase to close the zip, then you are definitely passionate enough to enjoy a morning jog in the park. If you think like I do, that exercise shouldn’t be a part of your vacation, then go CHILL on that bench! Central Park is beautiful! NYC doesn’t feel like the other big cities that I have been to before. Wherever you look, you will find yourself faced by a building or concrete of some sort. The buildings are gigantic and just never-ending. Normally, in other cities, the buildings are shorter and you are able to get a sense of direction, but in NYC it can feel like the buildings are closing in on you & that the only way out is the blue sky above you. Feeling a bit claustrophobic? Don’t worry, that’s what Central Park is for. Once you are inside the park there is a sense of calmness, it is evergreen & the centuries-old trees scattered around the park are SO tall that you completely forget about the concrete jungle outside. It is a great escape, honestly, it is an indescribable feeling of joy.

8 Go bargain hunting for designer brands at Saks Off 5th

Saks 5th Avenue is an amazing store with beautiful products, innovative window displays & all the designer labels that you can think of. However, the beautiful items come along with beautiful price tags too. If you want to be adventurous & get a kick out of finding a great bargain, then make an effort to go to Saks Off 5th. It is close to the original store, however, the presentation of stock differs greatly and you will have to ‘dig in’ to find your size. BUT once you find the perfect Michael Kors trainers or Valentino handbag at a great price, it will all have been worth the effort! There is a men’s section too, but if your man isn’t into it, don’t sweat it. There is more than enough seating for him to get comfortable on in the ladies shoe section!

Photo by shattha pilabut from Pexels

Photo by Alexandra Maria from Pexels

9 Stack up on cosmetics at the Cosmetic Market store, where you will find great deals on essential beauty products!

They sell almost everything, from designer perfume sets to endless make-up brands, some of which, I saw for the very first time. I felt like a cosmetic virgin in that store! Can you hear the song playing in your head from the movie, Bridget Jones’ Diaries, in the scene where they sang, “Hoo. Like a virgin. Touched for the very first time.”? Originally Madonna’s song of course. No? Well… Perhaps, all the cosmetics just felt like ‘Girl Heaven’ to me & as a result, my imagination surpassed the shred of logical thinking that I had left. I even discovered Emoticon band-aids in this store. How cool is that?

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Photo by Jazmin Quaynor on Unsplash

10 Stay inside the Manhattan area and try out The Gregory Hotel!

Staying in Manhattan is a great privilege! If you are located centrally, then you will be able to walk almost everywhere that you need to go. So, no need to worry about transport when you can depend on your own two legs! The vibe on the streets & the beautifully potted flowers around the city makes walking an outing by itself. I would suggest The Gregory Hotel because it is great value for cost & it is centrally located (close to Bryant Park, Central Station, Herald’s Square, Times Square & Broadway). Better yet, the hotel has a magnificent view of the Empire State Building. The staff are incredibly welcoming, friendly & make an effort to provide guests with awesome tips to ensure that their time in NYC is nothing but SPECTACULAR! Who are we kidding? A really comfortable, plush & soft bed after an entire day of walking & traveling can sure feel like a ‘little bit of heaven’!

11 Go shopping at Macy’s in Herald Square, the never-ending store that I got lost in, twice!

Central air conditioning is the first thought that came to mind when we stumbled upon Herald Square. Yup, I know what you’re thinking, but the weather that day was so humid & hot that breathing was a chore! August weather in NYC is not something that I would suggest. This store literally has everything. If you can’t find something, it certainly isn’t because they don’t have it! The store is massive and the stock endless! It was quite an experience. I lost my husband twice while browsing & it took us a good 30min each time to find each other again even though we had cell phones to communicate. Tax in the USA is a whole other story, but the gist of it is that it is usually not included in the sales price. Just outside Macy’s front door, there is a large area of shade underneath beautiful, tall trees where you can have a seat at brightly coloured-painted tables & chairs for free. You can grab a coffee or take-away somewhere and have a lovely lunch in the square.

12 Never been to Venice? No problem, just go window shopping at Lalique, Madison Avenue

I still remember from when I was a little girl, my granny had a glass bottle of Lalique perfume on her dresser table. It was decorated with gold, different coloured gems & I tiny crown on the top if my memory serves me right. I remember thinking, “Wow, this bottle is fit for a queen”! When I spotted their shop by accident in NYC, I just had to take a photo to send to my gran. The glass products in the store are astoundingly beautiful & if you have an eye for detail, you will definitely appreciate the craftsmanship. So, there’s definitely no need to hurry up & take a ride on a Venetian Gondola just yet…

13 If you think gardening isn’t an art, then think again! Go check out the mind-blowing gardens at the Rockefeller Center!

This is where fairy-tale garden’s come from! Just as you could once have dived so deep into your imagination as a child, where anything and I mean any shape or size could be possible, so it all rushes back to you as you stand on that promenade in utter AMAZEMENT! This is definitely a ‘photo spot’ or heck, even a ‘selfie spot’! All the shops & restaurants in the area are an experience by itself, mostly because of their magical & innovative window displays. Don’t miss the Kate Spade shop, it is feminine, pink and just FUN!

I hope you enjoyed reading this post. Please comment below and share your thoughts or experiences with us. Thanks!

Note: Everything written in orange are ‘clickable links’ to the original websites/sources used for this post.

Note that statements made and opinions reflected in this blog do not represent those of any of the entities mentioned or discusses herein. The blogger is furthermore not a representative or agent of any entities referred to in this blog. The knowledge provided is founded upon the personal experience and opinion of the blogger, which may have changed over time & could, therefore, be incorrect. Please refer directly to the entities mentioned in this blog for accurate & up to date information.

13 Unforgettable Things to Do in New York City 1 Do a session of people watching at Pret a Manger or Maison Kaiser, while sipping on a Grande Cappuccino!

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iolyne · 6 years

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

thank u lmao!!!!!!! love u!!!!!!!!

Femme or butch? I wouldn’t consider myself either!! sometimes I wish I was butch but I don’t really know enough about what it takes to be butch and I’m also not confident enough ;-;

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe itI’m not sure! everyone I’ve liked fits a totally different description!! and I’ve only liked maybe 5 people :0:0 I really love confidence and when people care about their appearance? it’s good

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?leather jackets!!!

Describe your styleuhhh idk I guess that like weeb goth that’s kind of trendy rn :,0 currently I only regularly wear like 2 pairs of black jeans and anime shirts since I just stay home most of the time lol

Describe your aestheticI really wouldn’t know how to describe it! I love neon lights and religious imagery like jesus stuff. I’m describing the aesthetic in my art i hope that’s ok!♡ im also really into oldweb&lovecore

Favorite article of clothing?i have a denim shirt with lil embroidered red hearts and the button is a heart!! and the seams on the back make a heart shape its really cute!!!! and comfy!!

Favorite pair of shoes?my hot pink platforms i never wear haha!!

Current haircut?i have buzzed hair!

Any haircut goals for the future?im trying to grow my hair to be 2 inches on top! and id like to get the sides to ¾ and inch! and im planning on dying it pink again ;o

Describe the best date you’ve been onjkfjfafjakks queerplatonic ok BUT edward and i do franky’s dance in the bathroom w no pants and im gonna count that but when we went to disney was the best

Describe the worst date you’ve been onI haven’t been on a date in a long time!!! honestly all the dates I went on were pretty good but one of my exes would always cancel on stuff we spent time planning so she could go to parties and I would cry @ home about thinking she hated me like once a week lol

Single? Taken?single and like honestly i miss being a girlfriend because it’s fun but i dont want to date rn anyways!!

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!:( i want my wife already

If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?i want my wife

Describe your dream weddingi want it to be Classy and idk i want a nice and not tacky wedding TBH and if i like……… had enough friens i would want a big wedding!! i dont want most of my family going tho lol

Do you want kids?no

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?big mansion by the beach ;-;

Favorite lesbian movie?ive oly seen Carol and i dont like it so i dont have an answer haha

Favorite lesbian novel/story?never read one!!

Favorite lesbian song?girls like girls by hayley kiyoko

Favorite lesbian musician?hayley kiyoko i guess i cant remember any others

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?mean lesbian, doesnt shave, short nails, hates men, big glasses, hates men, mean lesbian. communist

Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?yea

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that?oh i love.attention honestly. uhhh i love when a woman is passionate about things and also has a good fashion sense ♥_♥

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian?i love being a lesbian!!! like!! seeing other lesbians being proud of themselves or happy with their wives and girlfriends makes my heart so warm. i love the sense of community and the strong bond i love us

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?i have a pet dog so! i gotta say a dog person ♥

Turn ons?i love necks and also ear piercings are sexy :0 and nice hands god when people wear lots of rings im ♥_♥ and when they carry themselves confidently and when they’re strong im so weak

Turn offs?insensitivity!! and like liberals and centrists and right wingers HAHA also certain music tastes just. keep me away from other people ;0

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?UH ive only really only liked maybe 4 people and i think it was all in high school??? bad memory. i think if i wanted to be with someone now i would ask her out!!! the last time i liked someone i was too scared to do anything and i think we both were waiting for the other to do something about it and nothing happened :/

What is your dream career?i would loooooooooove to be a photographer like to do the spreads and portraits for celebrities!!!

Talk about your interests or hobbies!i watch and think about anime a lot honestly :/ i dont do a whole lot right now! i used to spend a lot of time drawing and writing and if i had the space i would love to do that! im also really interested in skincare and hygiene i love to talk 2 ppl about it and help people get routines :o

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?confidence. if its a physical trait i would say nice hands

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?it takes time for me

Ever fallen for your best-friend?yes! my last girlfriend was my best friend before we dated! we are still close!

Ever fallen for a straight girl?i think the first girl i fell for was straight :0

The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)never saw it!!!

Favorite comfort food?im eating a lot of instant noodles lately :/ my 2nd favorite food group is like southern comfort food i like chicken pot pies a lot lol

Coffee or tea?tea but i drink coffee more often

Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?neither! i cant do it!

Do you have any pets?i have a dog named teddy!

Early-riser or night-owl?night owl!

What is your sign?scorpio babey

Can you drive?hell yeah i can ive been driving for like 5 years

Who was your first lesbian crush?a girl in my art class freshman year i think her name was jenny or something like that? i cant even remember now but god from the moment i saw her i was smitten, i was weak, i spoke to her one time and i was so happy lol we only complimented each other’s art! she’s a year older than me and i thought she was the prettiest girl i had ever seen omg. jenny if you’re out there thanks for making me realize im a lesbian

At what age did you know you were a lesbian?when i was 16! i previously thought i was bi! and the first person i came out to was my girlfriend at the time!

At what age did you come out (if you have)?i first told my mom i liked girls when i was 14! i’ve for the most part just been open about being a lesbian though :0 but 2 or 3 years ago i made an Official Post on facebook saying i was a lesbian for the first time and god one of my aunts was so kind to me i cried lol

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?nope!

Talk about how your day wentmy day was alright, i’ve been bedridden due to my period all day! i cried because i lost the bag of m&ms i bought yesterday but i also ate breakfast for dinner so it was alright. relaxing.

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the futureim in college majoring in political science. i’m considering double majoring in communications as well. i don’t quite know what i would like to do though. my only career goal is to help children that’s all i want to do. i want to help children and i want to be happy.

Least favorite gay celebrity?milo yiannopoulos

#Anonymous #ask #long post #thank u :*

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megadarkbouquettidalwavethings · 6 years

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Dorm Living for Professionals Comes to San Francisco

SAN FRANCISCO — In search of reasonable rent, the middle-class backbone of San Francisco — maitre d’s, teachers, bookstore managers, lounge musicians, copywriters and merchandise planners — are engaging in an unusual experiment in communal living: They are moving into dorms.

Starcity is renovating two large buildings in San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood to turn into dorm rooms for the middle class.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Shared bathrooms at the end of the hall and having no individual kitchen or living room is becoming less weird for some of the city’s workers thanks to Starcity, a new development company that is expressly creating dorms for many of the non-tech population.

Starcity has already opened three properties with 36 units. It has nine more in development and a wait list of 8,000 people. The company is buying a dozen more buildings (including one-star hotels, parking garages, office buildings and old retail stores), has raised $18.9 million in venture capital and hired a team of 26 people. Starcity said it was on track to have hundreds of units open around the San Francisco Bay Area this year, and thousands by 2019.

These are not micro-units, nor are they like WeWork’s WeLive housing developments, where residents have their own small kitchens, living rooms and bathrooms but share common event space and industrial appliances for parties. These are not single-family homes that are being used as group houses.

Instead, Starcity residents get a bedroom of 130 square feet to 220 square feet. Many of the buildings will feature some units with a private bath for a higher rent. But Jon Dishotsky, Starcity’s co-founder and chief executive, said a ratio of one bathroom for every two to three bedrooms makes the most sense for large-scale affordability. The average one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco rents for $3,300 a month, but Starcity rooms go for $1,400 to $2,400 a month fully furnished, with utilities and Wi-Fi included.

“If you think about the most private things that you do, a lot of them are related to the bathroom,” said Mr. Dishotsky, 34. “So that’s probably the hardest part.”

CEO and co-founder Jon Dishotsky, on the roof of a dorm room building.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Starcity’s target demographic makes $40,000 to $90,000 a year. Most of the residents, who range in age from their early 20s to early 50s, have no political philosophy around communes nor any previous experience in them. Moving in was a practical decision they each made. But after they arrive, what they are most surprised by is how much the building changes them.

‘I Was Looking for More Meaning’

One recent night, the Mission Street house gathered to celebrate a set of birthdays, and there in a party hat was Carla Shiver, 38.

Carla Shiver with her dog, Stanford, in her unit at the Mission Street house.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Last year, Verizon eliminated Ms. Shiver’s job in Albany, Ga., but offered to transfer her to San Francisco to work at a store. Ms. Shiver, who makes about $85,000 a year, knew she could never afford a house here but moved anyway.

“People talk all the time about what they dream of, and I decided to stop talking about it and just do it,” Ms. Shiver said. “I was looking for more meaning.”

She divorced her husband, packed her Yorkie Pomeranian, Stanford, in the car and drove west.

The idea of sharing a bathroom was initially alarming, but the pictures of the house looked nice and Ms. Shiver wanted to meet new friends. For $2,200 a month, she now rents a Starcity room with a queen-size bed, a bedside table and a chair.

She said she could not imagine any other life.

“I’ve run a household; I’ve done the bills; I’ve mowed the yard, and I don’t want to be responsible again,” Ms. Shiver said. “I want to paint and learn how to make ramen noodles. And when we run out of tinfoil, there’s just more tinfoil.”

The Starcity community manager (a.k.a. the building manager) is extremely involved in household affairs, dropping off care packages when someone is sick and organizing birthday parties. If tenants sign up for premium services, Starcity will do their laundry for $40 a month, clean rooms for $130 a week and even arrange for dog day care. For many residents, the arrangement does not feel temporary.

The communal kitchen at the Starcity Nottingham House.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Shared bathrooms at the Starcity Nottingham House.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

“I never thought I could live like this,” Ms. Shiver said. “But the more I live here, the freer I feel.”

She said she had not locked her bedroom door once since moving in, and most days when she gets home from work, a roommate has taken her dog into the shared living room. She said she hardly thought about the dorm-style bathroom setup, that there had never been a line for a shower, and that the building was like a family.

“This afternoon we’re going to the Exploratorium,” she said, referring to the science museum located at Pier 15.

Mr. Dishotsky’s Awakening

Mr. Dishotsky looked very much the part one morning as he walked into a building site.

Wearing muddy leather boots, black jeans and a hard hat, he examined Mason Street, formerly a residential hotel that served homeless and low-income people in the Tenderloin neighborhood. It will soon be 71 Starcity units.

The Tenderloin, a traditionally working-class and diverse neighborhood with a large arts scene and a sizable homeless population, has been slowly gentrifying, leading to rising tensions. (Most of Starcity’s residents are white.) On the sidewalk outside Mr. Dishotsky’s construction zone that morning, there were used needles and several tents.

He paced through the first floor’s 2,500-square-foot living room. The basement will be a communal kitchen, with a lineup of industrial sized refrigerators.

The only thing people really need to do alone is sleep, he said.

“What are the things you can do with other people? Eat food, drink wine, watch TV,” he said. “You don’t need to do that in your own unit alone, so why pay for it?”

Mr. Dishotsky in the Tenderloin neighborhood, where Starcity is renovating two large buildings. CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Painters work on one of Starcity’s dorm renovations in the Tenderloin neighborhood.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Mr. Dishotsky grew up in Palo Alto, Calif., where housing prices have soared and the median home value is now more than $3 million. His parents were both teachers and left-wing political activists living in an intentional community in the late 1960s before they bought a house for $50,000.

After Mr. Dishotsky graduated from college, he spent a decade at a commercial real estate firm making deals until one day in 2015, he had a crisis. His friends were leaving town. The arts scene was fading. He saw a political cause and an economic opportunity.

“My mom got shot once protesting for what she believed in,” he said. “And here I am building offices.”

So he quit. He wanted to build something that, at market rate, would be affordable.

When Mr. Dishotsky first tried to get a bank loan for his new type of pared-down housing, he was turned away by 40 lenders.

“They were like, ‘Who would live this way?’” he said. “We’re like, ‘It’s everybody, it’s normal people you know.’”

A couple blocks away was the Ellis Street building, a former bathhouse turned into medical offices that became a vacant property. Another developer had tried to turn it into 11 luxury condos. Mr. Dishotsky’s pitch was 52 dorm rooms.

The move was both idealistic and practical. Because of arcane permitting rules and neighborhood associations that push against new developments, building new housing in San Francisco is painfully slow. But workers keep flooding the city, so roommates jam tighter into existing housing, already sharing bathrooms and renting living rooms as bedrooms. Mr. Dishotsky said he decided to build for what was already the city’s reality.

At the Ellis Street site, his team is digging down about a level and a half to make a basement lounge. Each floor has a communal kitchen for eight to 15 people. He’s working with his co-founder, Mohammad Sakrani, 30, on new beds that can be hoisted up and suspended from the ceiling during the day. They are also trying to design modular bathrooms and even entire bedrooms that can be “plugged in” to buildings.

Inside the communal kitchen at Starcity’s Mission House, where residents gathered for “wine night.”CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Ms. Ndrepepaj’s New Friends

In Starcity’s South of Market building, known as Gilbert House, which has a reputation for being the party house, tenants call themselves the Gilbertines.

Migerta Ndrepepaj, 25, the headwaiter at the Nob Hill Club at the Intercontinental Mark Hopkins Hotel, said her favorite tradition was Sunday family days when the housemates cook together and go on adventures like renting go-karts.

“That makes us sound like college kids,” Ms. Ndrepepaj said. “But we’re not.”

Migerta Ndrepepaj, right, hangs out with her Starcity housemates in the kitchen of their building.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

For the annual San Francisco race and parade Bay to Breakers, the housemates rented sets of four-seater tandem bikes and cruised the city. For Halloween, they dressed as characters from “Alice in Wonderland” (Ms. Ndrepepaj was the White Rabbit). Recently, they all went to Lake Tahoe to a house that Starcity supplied.

“You don’t have to think up plans anymore because they kind of do it for you,” she said. “And now, I live with my best friends.”

The units are fundamentally not fancy, but Starcity adds accents that gives the spaces a trendy millennial look. Furniture is a midcentury-modern aesthetic. Plants hang in concrete pots on the walls alongside art that residents make on painting nights.

“I feel like I’m in a relationship with everyone I live with,” Ms. Ndrepepaj said. “If their day is bad, your day is bad.”

A Birthday Party

One evening back at Starcity’s Mission House, Rachel Haltom, 22, an account executive at Yelp, baked a birthday cake with Steph Allen, 24, a fashion boutique merchandise planner, for a housemate.

Ms. Haltom had never made meringue, but Chris Maddox, 27, a writer, had come home and took over the egg-white whipping. One tenant announced a secret crush on another, and there was debate about the merits. They joked about alcoholic seltzer water, a new trend they all agreed was absurd, as Ms. Allen drank one.

Residents and guests in the communal kitchen at the Mission House gathered for a birthday party.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Before Starcity, Mr. Maddox paid $4,100 a month for a one-bedroom apartment and worked near constantly as chief executive of Seneca Systems, a start-up that provided software for local governments.

What he wanted was to be a writer. Now, he pays $1,900 a month and lives in a cluttered bedroom with a bed, a record player and an overflowing bookshelf.

A glimpse into a Starcity room with a loft bed.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Katherine McKim with her dog, Zoey, in her room at the Mission House.CreditJason Henry for The New York Times

Katherine McKim, 37, came home with her dog, Zoey, who trotted around the kitchen. Ms. McKim had worked for Penguin Random House in New York but always admired the San Francisco-based publisher Chronicle Books, so when she and her husband divorced, she packed up and moved out. (There are quite a few divorcées in Starcity.)

“Everybody told me housing in San Francisco was really expensive, but I was like, ‘I live in New York, how much more expensive can it be?’” she said. “I was a bit cocky.”

Now, for $2,050 a month, she has space for a dog bed for Zoey, a full-sized bed for herself, a TV, a mini fridge and a sink.

Every other Wednesday is “wine night.” An upcoming Tuesday is “kombucha and yoga night.” On Feb. 14, it was “pal-entines day,” planned and hosted by Starcity.

Nellie Bowles covers tech and internet culture from San Francisco. Before joining The Times, she was a correspondent for “VICE News Tonight.” @nelliebowles

NELLIE BOWLES

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