#I can only drink enough ketchup before I just want a steak | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginesbymk · 4 years

Text

“Find Me Under The Giant Rabbit.”

Reservoir Dogs/Pulp Fiction One Shot

SUMMARY: I read a Reddit fan theory that Mr. Pink survived, escaped the cops, got arrested and was then put on parole - leaving behind his old life and lying low as a waiter at Jack Rabbit Slims. What happens when you show up to the restaurant one night?

PAIRING: Mr. Pink/Buddy Holly waiter x Reader

TAGS: swearing, smoking + mentions of basically everything that happened in reservoir dogs which is the heist, violence, etc

NON REQUESTED

WORD COUNT: 2,870 (it’s long i’m sorry)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is probably the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, and it’s nothing tarantino would ever put in his films, also there’s no way PF and RS can legitimately tie in together 100% even though there are some factors to support otherwise, but i wanted to write this and see something lol :( leave a like/reblog + feedback!!!

[gif credit]

YOU put your car in park, shutting off the engine, and observed it from afar. It was one hell of a big restaurant, almost a bit too cartoon-like. There was a giant anthropomorphic rabbit on top, and the lights claiming the name were glowing a bright red and yellow. Mind you, this was in Los Angeles, so who wouldn’t blame you if you took one look at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, and mistake it for a restaurant at Six Flags?

Dozens of bikers came in with their motorcycles, yet their engines couldn’t even overpower the chatter coming from newcomers left and right. You ignored a heavy tattooed biker dressed in all leather and denim catcalling you from afar, and you reached the front desk.

A man dressed in uniform, most definitely in character, tipped his hat at you and led you to a table with only two chairs. You weren’t expecting anyone to join you in the other seat across. So what if you went for dinner by yourself? You didn’t bother asking anyone to join you for that matter. Not anyone you could think of at the top of your head would be any less boring.

You began tracing your fingers around the rim of the ketchup bottle when not even five seconds after sitting down, a lady approached your table with ruby red lips.

Of course, you thought. Servers were dressed up as icons from the 50s era.

“Marilyn,” you say in awe.

“Close enough,” Instead of being seated in the Marilyn Monroe section being served by a Marilyn Monroe-looking Marilyn Monroe, you were greeted with a tall Mamie Van Doren, who is just as breathtaking as Marilyn refilling everyone’s coffee mugs from the other side of the restaurant. “How about I get you started with drinks?”

Ricky Nelson’s performance on stage came to an end when Mamie arrived with your food. You looked around the place while eating. People weren’t eating by themselves. Families, friends, dates, all of them occupied their seats. Now that you’ve noticed, you sort of wished you brought someone with you, otherwise the seat across from you is used as a footrest.

So there, you propped your feet on top, and relaxed… then you sat upright. Your eyes fixated on the waiter in his section, which were the cars back in the 50s used as booths. You watch him walk towards one of them. The couple was a young woman in a blunt bob cut with bangs, and a man wearing a black suit with long black hair tied back.

You squint your eyes. It couldn’t be...

“Hi, I’m Buddy. What can I get ya?”

You blinked, dropping the half bitten French fry from your mouth. Holy fucking shit.

It was all coming back to you. The news broke out about the heist going wrong at the wholesale, all dead except for one, a cop who laid dead on the ramp inside the rendezvous was identified as Mr. Orange. Since he wasn’t supposed to know where you were from, Mr. Pink never turned up to your door as an emergency hideout, or to drag you with him on his getaway because he never had one. You never heard of him ever since.

Here he was, Mr. Pink, alive and well, wearing glasses. What the hell happened? How long has he been working here? Is he supposed to be Buddy Holly?

“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell?” you hear him ask the man in the suit who ordered a steak.

“Bloody as hell, and oh, yeah, look at this- vanilla coke.”

You noticed the irony. He left you in a black suit - and he comes back in white. Like he’d ever want to be caught dead in white, or pink.

“What about you, Peggy Sue?” he asks the woman, jotting in his notepad. You recognized the pun.

“I’ll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody. And… the five dollar shake.”

Were you about to laugh? Call out his name? That was enough for you to get antsy in your seat, but you didn’t want to draw attention. You saw him again while finishing up half of your meal, giving the couple their drinks and disappearing back into the kitchen. He was doing his job, but it wasn’t like he was giving his one hundred percent. For someone who preached to the Gods about professionalism, Mr. Pink sure lacked work ethic. Every employee was on point with their character impersonations as if you had travelled back in time. Meanwhile, he acted like himself and seemed bored while wearing an emotionless face, as if he hated his job and epitome of his existence. It was never a dull moment for him whenever he was with you, though.

You got up to use the restroom.

“We’re lucky we got anything at all. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter,” you heard the man at the booth tell the woman as you walk past them, spotting their food from the corner of your eye. It’s no surprise hearing that. Mr. Pink never looked like the type to work at a job like this.

You sat back down and soon, Mr. Pink reappeared, standing over to the side and watched the announcement of the twisting contest, smoking a cigarette. You see him eyeing two pretty blonde women walking past him, and he looked back his way, now in your direction.

He finally did what you wanted him to do, and he stares at you for nearly a solid minute.

You waved awkwardly.

Mr. Pink tosses the cigarette in a random person’s ashtray and disappears behind the door once again. You darted out of your chair, and marched your way to where he headed, just as the couple he served got up on stage to participate in the twisting contest.

A Zorro waiter jumps in front of you. “Stop right there, mi amor!” his eyes darted at you through the cheap black mask he was wearing. “I believe the bathroom’s on the other side of the bar.”

“Where’s Buddy?” you ask Zorro.

“I’m afraid Mr. Holly is taking a quick break from unenthusiastically serving love birds in their cars.”

“Can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Once I see him.” Zorro then took out his sword and pointed it at you, a grin plastered on his face. “Now, shall I escort you back to your dining spot?”

Although you were aware this guy was only in character, you didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out, or having a realistic looking sword ripped through your body. You sighed and turned around, heading back. You noticed at your table a folded napkin beside your empty plate. Mamie Van Doren was last seen there, her back facing you with her heels clicking away on the tiles.

“Excuse me!” you called after the waitress. She ignores you, smiling down at new customers at an umbrella table.

Cocking an eyebrow, you used your finger to flatten the crease and read the note in bold handwriting.

FIND ME UNDER THE GIANT RABBIT. - BUDDY

You threw the door open and ran outside, precisely under the giant rabbit of the Jack Rabbit Slim’s sign, just like he said on the napkin. You felt like an idiot checking every direction to find no one. Not a lot of the bikers were seen riding or hanging out around the parking lot, some people were coming and going, but you couldn’t find Buddy Holly.

Defeated, you turn to walk back inside.

Mr. Pink rushed out the door and caught his breath. It looked like he was chasing you down before you could take off. A song used for the twisting contest kept playing from inside.

You didn’t run up to him and jumped in his arms or anything dramatic in that matter. You both stared at each other.

A few days before the heist you two stood across each other waiting for Mr. Brown and Mr. White inside the hideout. It was a quiet moment, not an awkward one. He just took that opportunity to study you, as you did him. It took him that moment to realize he was warming up to you.

“Well hello there, Buddy,” you smile smugly.

YOU and Pink loitered at the side of the eatery, where the back door to the kitchen was located. He had taken off his fake glasses, showing his full frame.

“Okay,” you watch him lean against the wall, lighting his cigarette. “Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“What the hell do you think? Cops tagged me when I tried driving away. I was put behind bars, and by some fucking miracle this place took me in when I needed money.”

“You didn’t know any other crime bosses looking for a lanky dude?” Pink rolls his eyes at your joke. “I know the heist went terribly wrong, I saw the news. Everyone’s dead as Dillinger.”

“That briefcase had a shit load of two million dollars worth of stones,” Pink blew smoke out. “I swear, if that asshole undercover cop was never sent to set us up, I could have been enjoying a cocktail in Santorini. You’re lucky you called in sick that day.”

You shuddered, remembering how god-awful the illness was. “Never again. I felt like I was being hot glued to a sauna.”

You remembered the day of the heist. In fact, you mentally prepared yourself for something that you’ve never done before. You braced for what was supposed to go smoothly as Joe promised. Instead, you were woken up by the worst case scenario above 38 degrees. You were thankful Joe took it easy on you and promised another job next time.

“All right, your turn. What did you do after that shit show went down?” Pink asks you.

“Just did my own thing. I wasn’t there so the cops never searched for me.” Pink took a slow drag, staring at nothing. He didn’t really look the same as before. Still lanky, except his hair was a bit more darkened and styled in curls, possibly because Buddy Holly had it permed that way. But his face read that he had been through a lot. Normally you felt zero pity for assholes like him, but you managed to blurt out, “I missed you.”

Pink, blowing out smoke in the air, eyed you up and down and furrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Not only did it suck not being able to make money, you also couldn’t do it with Mr. Pink. As much as he kept his professionalism to a T, he squeezed in time to get along with you. It was no wonder Joe hired you - you were different than the guys, you moved differently and never felt small. Mr. Pink was drawn to that.

Maybe that was just an understatement. He grew intimidated by something he expected to experience the least from in the job, and of course, straight out of a fairytale, you had to stop and ask yourself if you felt the same way, and if what you felt was right. Neither of you had any idea. It was against the rules to give out personal information to each other, and Mr. Pink took those rules very seriously, even if it was just one job that he most likely wouldn’t come back to unless a higher pay was involved and Joe Cabot liked him enough to recruit him again.

If Mr. Pink grew too attached, if he let his guard down for one second, God forbid something would have happened to you. Without a doubt, he would have heavily blamed himself and walked away from the job without saying another word.

His options were to wait until after the robbery to make a move, or do his job, get paid and leave. Whether or not it was out of selfishness was out of the question. Mr. Pink is already selfish in an intuitive kind of way, he’d rather avoid spiraling into a wave of emotions for one person - so he chose the latter.

“What?” Pink looked at you, feeling a bit tense. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh? No. It’s nothing,” you blinked, realizing you were staring at him longer than you should have. You shook your head, most likely shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to tell him what’s on your mind.

If anything, he’s most likely sleeping with the Marilyn Monroe waitress. “It’s just… you shaved the goatee.”

Pink nodded, looking a bit annoyed that there was no facial hair left on his chin to rub. “Buddy Holly had a clean face. For the record, the only advantage of this job is that I’m under disguise. Other than that, this place is a circus. I’m zooming back in time whenever I clock in.”

“It’s a 50s themed restaurant,” you state. “Working here sounds like fun. At least you get to dress up and experience pop culture.”

He scoffs. “No, fuck the 50s. Shit was all I Love Lucy and those puffy ass dresses.”

“They’re called poodle skirts, Pink.”

“Like I give a fuck what they’re called.”

“You know Buddy Holly smiled. He was a singer and a guitarist. If you keep up the attitude, no one’s gonna tip you. Nice Guy Eddie told me about your rant on tipping.”

“Ha! And? You will never find me up on that stage performing That’ll Be The Day, moving like a fucking animatronic.” Halfway finished, Pink tossed his cigarette aside and looked at you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt your cheeks flushing. Fuck. “I am?”

He nodded, putting his Buddy Holly glasses back on his face. “Yeah. It’s a breath of fresh air seeing you here.” He stares down at his wristwatch for a moment.

“Your break’s done?”

“It’s been done,” he says. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You’re so fired.”

“This isn’t the first time I stopped caring, so my boss isn’t gonna bat an eye.” He had his hand wrapped around the back door which was supported by a wooden block to keep it open. “Look, I’ll see ya arou-”

“Pink?” Your heart rose up to your throat.

He turned back to you. “Hm?”

You just had to do it. You reached up and kissed him softly. Pink didn’t shove or curse at you. His features softened, pulling you close to him and kissed you deeply. Even when you two pulled away, his arms didn’t unwrap from your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours now.

“My name’s Y/N,” you tell him.

He stares at you, no snarky, sarcastic comment left for him to give.

“I know you’re not willing to give your name up just yet, you can’t fully trust me, and I get that, but I won’t tell anyone what happened. You got lucky, I think… but I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N,” he says your name for the first time. “You don’t have to go all sappy for me. Karma came in hot. Jesus Christ, I mean, I left you.”

“Not really. You didn’t know me. The cops had the place staked out the entire day, there was nothing you could do.”

He looked down at his shoes. “All right. But still, I feel shitty. Can I at least make it up to you?”

“How?”

Pink shrugs. “I get paid tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” you reply. “Save it like you’re gonna lose it.”

“I’ve had this job for a while now, I got enough to last. But once I win the lottery, I’m gone.”

“To Santorini?”

“With a cocktail in my hand. But that’s besides the point, right now I got enough to take you out on a date… if you’re down.”

“Where would you plan on taking me? Here?” you laugh.

“You’re funny. How about the movies? Overruled, I’m taking you to see a movie. I gotta know where you live first. It’s okay to know now.”

You nodded, you couldn't argue with that. Besides, you two would just be making out in the dark the entire time.

His hand was back on the handle of the back door. Pink pulled it open, looked back at you and smiled for the first time tonight. That warmed your heart, and you were certain it warmed his. He watched you stuff something inside his pocket square as you told him your address. He went back inside, shutting the door on you. You walked back to the front of the restaurant to pay for the bill, and went straight home.

Mr. Pink shuffles past the chefs in the kitchen, feeling through his suit pocket to pull out his notepad and whatever you stuffed inside just moments ago.

I didn’t even serve them. Is this supposed to be for Mamie Van Doren? He stares down at the dollar bill crumpled in his hand. His frown suddenly transitions to a small but genuine smile.

Fuck it. Nothing could stop him now. He definitely owes you a date night. He quickly stuffs the tip back in his pocket square, and comes out the sliding door.

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes @aryn-the-bearheart

#reservoir dogs x reader #reservoir dogs fic #reservoir dogs fanfic #mr pink x reader #mr pink #reservoir dogs imagine #reservoir dogs #mr pink one shot #reader insert #reservoir dogs one shot #one shot #imagine #mk's faves

71 notes · View notes

imadeletingmysocials · 5 years

Text

Things cheaper at Dollartree (after much research)

This is a big list I made for myself and anyone else who wants to know what is legit cheaper at the dollar tree and not just 1 dollar for the sake of there, some things might surprise you what is cheaper and even better at a dollar tree. I try to also pick the healthiest options and compare them to prices in places such as Walmart or a large stock place like BJs. I have also used fooducate.com to see which ones are more healthy, of course with things such as chips and snacks though don’t consider them to be healthy but in those cases I opt for the off-brand ones that taste better than the brand ones. Note: This is USA based.

Food:

Drinks:

Azul Coconut Juice, 16.5 oz. (cheapest and healthiest coconut water out there)

Gatorade Fruit Punch Thirst Quencher, 24 oz.

Stacker 2 B-12 Vitamin Shots is also cheaper.

Rockstar Pure Zero Silver Ice Energy Drinks (energy drinks are bad for you but it’s like 30 cents cheaper here than in walmart)

LaCroix Lime Flavored Sparkling Water 1 litter

(don’t even bother with any or all of the cheap soda it’s the worst, please drink water if anything else, all of the good soda is cheaper somewhere else also)

Snacks:

Cheez-It Original Baked Snack Crackers, 4.5 oz is cheaper at Dollartree.

Nabisco Cheese Nips Baked Snack Crackers, 7 oz is cheaper at Dollartree.

Nabisco Ritz Bits Cheese and Cracker Sandwiches, 3-oz. is SORTA cheaper at dollartree.

Island Choice Dry-Roasted Peanuts, 7.5 oz. (shelled nuts cheaper everywhere else of course in bulk)

Island Choice Honey-Roasted Dry-Roasted Peanuts, 7.5 oz

Pennysticks Mini Pretzels, 12 oz (pretzels the same, these cheaper)

Tropical Chips Plantains, 3-oz (30 cents cheaper)

Barcel Takis Fuego Flavored Churritos Stix, 4 oz (apparently, 9oz is 2,50 so 3 would be 12oz and 3 dollars, it would be kinda cheaper?)

Pringles Grab & Go Barbecue Chips, 2.5 oz (buying in bulk anywhere else is cheaper though, however, this single container costs 1,25 everywhere else)

Brim's Fried Barbecue Pork Rinds, 2.635 oz

Carolina Country Snacks Salt & Vinegar Pork Rinds. 2.75 oz

Sheila G's Chocolate Chip Brownie Brittle, 2 oz

Barcel Takis Crunchy Fajitas Tortilla Chips, 3.2 oz

T.G.I. Friday’s Jalapeno Cheddar Potato Skins Snack Chips, 4.5 oz

Snack Factory Original Pretzel Crisps, 3-oz (50 cents cheaper!)

PopCorners Kettle Flavor Popped Corn Chips, 3 oz. (better in bulk also)

Good Health Veggie Chips with Sea Salt, 2.75-oz (better in bulk also)

Stacy's Parmesan Garlic & Herb Flavored Pita Chips, 3 oz (better in bulk also)

Rudolph's OnYums Onion-Flavored Ring Chips, 3 oz (it’s off brand Funyuns but it’s actually BETTER and cheaper depending on where you buy them because they’re often sold more expensively at gas stations than Funyuns, fun fact)

Island Choice Banana Chips, 6 oz. Bags

Island Choice Sweet and Spicy Trail Mix, 5 oz (healthy!)

Breakfast Blueberry Biscuits, 7.93 oz.

Harvest Hill Quick Oats, 16 oz. Canisters (Top choice too)

Canned and Pickled

Pampa Tropical Mango Slices in Light Syrup, 15 oz. Cans

Bell's Pitted Olives, 6 oz

Green Giant Sliced Carrots, 14.5 oz (but mostly because I cannot find them anywhere else, all other Green Giant stuff is sold cheaper in bulk though)

Margaret Holmes Finely Chopped Spinach, 27 oz (TOP CHOICE)

Crider Premium Chunk White Turkey 5oz

Libby"s Sliced Pineapple, 20 oz (surprisingly!)

Margaret Holmes Seasoned Field Peas and Snaps, 15 oz

Cans of Pampa(R) Peach Slices, 15.25oz

Pampa Mushroom Pieces & Stems, 10 oz

Pampa Extra-Long Asparagus Spears, 12-oz (by the way Pampa is a really good healthy brand which is cheaper so these alternatives are great)

Libby's Premium Mandarin Oranges, 15 oz

Breckenridge Farms Pickled Jalapeno Slices, 12.5 oz (however Old El Paso Jalapeno Slices, Pickled 12.5oz is 1 dollar more expensive in other places and considered more healthy)

Van Camp's Chunk White Albacore Tuna 5oz (keep in mind this is the only canned tuna that is cheaper at dollartree, Albacore is very healthy and usually more expensive than Tuna, but dollartree sells white albacore in water on the same price as light tuna, this is a very good tuna brand as well)

Mc. Trader Tender Green Asparagus Spears, 10.5 oz

Pampa Smoked Oysters in Oil

Healthy Choice Chicken Noodle Soup, 15-oz

Beach Cliff Sardines in Mustard Sauce, 3.75 (top choice)

Beach Cliff Sardines in Water, 3.75 oz (top choice)

French Onion Dip, 8.5 oz (all onion’s dips the same as well)

Condiments and Spicing

Goya Sazon Seasoning, 8-Packet Boxes

Deli Market Yellow Mustard 20oz (not only is this the best healthiest mustard, but it’s cheaper if you buy it like this than any other mustard in stock size, I wish I had known of this before already stocking up buy buying a 2 pack of 20oz mustard at BJs which is enough to last a year for me)

Louisiana Supreme Hot Sauce 12oz (top choice too)

Kendale Farm Beef Broth, 32 oz (top choice, cheaper than most 32oz broths)

Heinz 57 Sauce, 5 oz. (1,50 cheaper than Walmart)

Hunts Tomato Ketchup, 20 oz (all ketchup is the same)

Deli Market Deli Spicy Brown Mustard (top choice)

Riverton Orchards Lemon Juice, 32-oz (lemon juice the same)

Kraft Bullseye Everyday Original Barbecue Sauce, 17.5-oz (80 cents cheaper than the same product in Target)

A.1. Thick & Hearty Steak Sauce, 5 oz. (SURPRISINGLY, not even in bulk is it as cheap as this? Weird, 5oz is 1 dollar right? 30oz for A1 is usually 8 dollars in stock supermarkets, but 5 times 8 would be 40oz! This is... Interesting. Especially considering it’s a well known brand as well, I wonder who is their dealer or are they just selling it cheap out of donation?)

Healthy Chef Canola Non-Stick Cooking Spray (this one’s pretty wild too, it only is sold at dollartree and is considered the healthiest cooking spray in the entirety of America according to fooducate)

Candy

Gonna go on a safe bet here and say that everything can be found for less and in greater quantity anywhere else. Hairbo Twin Snake is the same price at Walmart though. Most candies are sold 40% cheaper at bulk supermarkets though.

Office & School Supplies

You can probably find all of these at an Ebay auction, but it’s more accessible here.

Crayola Washable Glue Sticks, 2-ct. Packs (1.50 cheaper than walmart)

Duck Tape is cheap as hell

All-Purpose Krazy Glue, .052-oz. Tubes

Other stuff:

Laundry stuff, I’d recommend Ajax 40oz or Fab. Those are AMAZING brands and known as top quality in Australia. And it is insane how cheap this is, they must import it??

Scott Toilet Paper: Oh my god HOW IS 4 TOILET PAPERS THIS CHEAP HERE AT THE DOLLAR TREE???? TP is literally more expensive everywhere else.

Kitchen appliances, a glass salt shaker is like 5 dollars at Walmart but it’s 1 dollar at dollartree. All of the Betty Crocker kitchen appliances like spatulas are only a dollar too and so good. (They are 3 DOLLARS cheaper at dollar tree). IT IS INSANE HOW CHEAP this shit is here, like the can opener they sell for 1 dollar is 6 or 5 dollars everywhere else.

Fisher-Price Smart Care Aloe Vera and Chamomile Baby Wipes, 80-ct. Packs

All Arm & Hammer stuff including the Arm & Hammer Ultra Max 3-in-1 Fresh Scented Body Wash, Shampoo, and Conditioner, 12 oz are good choices. Deodorant too is good. All Arm and hammer stuff here is cheaper than on Walmart and a great brand.

Hand soap might be found for 97 cents at Walmart but it’s a small difference.

Not Cheaper, Best bought at a bulk store:

Peanut Butter Filled Pretzels

snack bars.

V8 Vegetable Juice

Potato Stix

Cereal

Canned Soup

Canned Tuna

Badia Original Complete Seasoning (this took a while to calculate but yes it’s cheaper to buy in bulk, dollartree has 2,5oz for 1 dollar, usually a 2 pack of 12oz each is 13 dollars. if you do like 2.5 times 2.5oz, it’s like 32oz which is more than 24oz for 13 dollars, but you can find 1.75 lbs. of this for 8 dollars)

Iodized Salt (get it at Great value honestly)

Dill Pickles in general, but Vlasic Kosher Dill Pickles is the healthiest choice

Cambell canned soups

Goya canned beans

Sunny Sea Sardines in Tomato Sauce, 7.5-oz

Here’s hoping me publishing this doesn’t crash the market or anything but seriously, you can live healthily and frugally like this. I literally survive like this easily, I just spend like 60 dollars a month max with supplies.

#dollartree #frugal #money tips

1K notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Special Preview: Gateway Drug | 1988

- Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil

I lean down and pick Monroe up off of my bed, grinning at him as he looks at me with wide eyes and a mouth full of pacifier.

I already miss him.

"You ready?" Dad asks when I get to the kitchen, grabbing Monroe's bottle and checking the temperature of it.

"Viv, you don't have time to feed him right now. He'll be here any second." Dad tells me and I ignore him, popping the cap off and Monroe spits out his pacy and eagerly accepts his food.

A car pulls into the driveway and my stomach churns as my father goes to check who it is.

"Viv, your boyfriend's here!" Slash calls from my guest bedroom before coming out with Steven.

I grab my purse and head to the door, the two of them following after me to go out, too, opening it to see Nikki standing there with flowers…

"H-Hi…" he starts, nervously, and I look him over for a moment, really appreciating his time in the gym.

"Hi." I reply, smiling.

"These are for you." He tells me, and I take the flowers.

"Thanks." I tell him, feeling everybody's presence behind me.

I slowly turn to see my dad and the boys looking at us, knowingly.

"I want her back at midnight." Dad says, plucking the flowers from my hand, and Nikki awkwardly laughs it off…"I'm being serious." Dad states, raising a brow. "I know you had issues with getting her home at a reasonable hour back when you two started dating, but this time I don't have to make myself overlook it to avoid her mother finding out about her seeing you...so I'm telling you, 12:00am your car better be in this driveway and she better be at the door. Or I'm coming after you, understood?"

Nikki glances at me, waiting for me to protest it, but I honestly don't see a problem with it. I wanna be in early, anyway.

"Got it." Nikki nods.

"And anything you do to her, I'm gonna do to you." Dad adds.

"Dad." I mumble, glaring at him.

Nikki looks slightly disturbed.

"Have fun." He grins sarcastically, adding, "I love you."

"Shit, gimme a second, man, I forgot my keys." Slash tells Steven in the background.

"Love you, too." I say to my dad before shutting the door.

"I didn't realize your dad was such a hard ass." Nikki comments as we walk to his car and I'm slightly shocked when he follows me and opens the door for me.

"Thanks." I tell him, rubbing my lips together and sliding in.

"So," Nikki clears his throat uncomfortably…"Where to?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter to--"

We're interrupted by knocking on Nikki's window, seeing Slash and Steven leaning down to see us.

Nikki rolls the window down.

"Hey, man." Slash says to him, chuckling lightly with a wide smile.

"Hey," Nikki says in the same tone.

"You two be careful." He orders, half joking.

"Oh, yeah, we will." Nikki assures him.

"Yeah, and don't do anything we would do." Steven adds suggestively, and my face burns red.

"And if you do, use these," Slash pulls a couple condoms from his pocket and hands them to Nikki.

"Oh, my god." I whisper to myself, embarrassed.

Nikki just smiles, tight lipped, avoiding making it worse.

"Thanks." He replies.

"We gotta head out." Slash pats the door. "See ya later, though, okay?"

"Oh, for sure." Nikki nods.

"Goodnight, love birds." Steven teases as the two of them go to Slash's car.

Nikki rolls the window back up and tosses the condoms in the glove box, sighing.

"I'm not having sex with you tonight." I inform him out of nowhere and he looks at me.

"I already said in therapy I think it'd be a good idea to take things slow this time since we didn't the first time." He reminds me, almost as if he's offended I suggested he'd want to sleep with me on our first date back together (kind of).

"Well, I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying." He states as we pull out of the driveway.

We end up at a diner, and it's painfully quiet for a little bit before I decide to ask him…

"How's the, um, album going?"

He sips his coke and thinks for a second before replying, "it's going good."

No elaboration, no conversation. My ice breaker failed me.

"Oh." I nod. "Good."

"Yep." He adds.

More silence.

"So, is Monroe getting used to going between you and Duff yet?"

"Yeah, he's gotten used to his schedule so...it's gonna be a little hard having to miss a few visits here and there when they're across the world but other than that he's been doing good, so…"

"Good."

……...More silence.

"Here's your eggs and sausage," the waitress hands me my plate, "And pancakes, and here's your steak and eggs." She hands Nikki his. "Can I get you any ketchup, hotsauce, steak sauce?" She offers.

"Steak sauce is fine, thanks." Nikki tells her, nicely.

Very nicely.

Too nicely.

I cut my eyes at him.

"Coming right up." She steps away, glancing back over her shoulder at him for a just a millisecond and I scoff as he starts cutting his food.

"That hasn't changed." I mumble.

"What?"

"'Steak sauce is fine thanks'," I mock him. "'And you can suck it off my balls if you want to, too'." I add.

"Vivian, I'm being nice. Would you rather me call her a cunt and pour my drink on her for not bringing the sauce without me having to ask? Because Nikki one year ago would have done that."

"He would've had her bent over a sink all in the same hour, too..."

He drops his silverware onto the table and looks at me, unamused.

"Do you just want me to take you back home?" He asks me, a hurt expression on his face.

I think about it for a moment.

"Because I'm trying to make this work and I'm trying not to mess this up with you this time but you need to meet me halfway, Vivian." He tells me.

"Here's that sauce for you." She comes back and puts it in front of him. "Enjoy your meal." She adds, glancing at him and he rolls his eyes, picking up his silverware once more to finish cutting his steak up.

"I'm sorry." I admit, feeling bad for trying to start an argument. "It's just weird being together and not fighting about something. We haven't just sat down and had a good time without it turning into a fight in years." I remind him.

"Well, that's my fault." He admits. "And like I said I want to start over so let's just not do that shit this time. Deal?" He asks.

"Deal." I agree, taking a sip of my water.

We eat our food in silence, awkwardly waiting for the other to say something…

Nikki just finishes his food and looks at me, looking like he's thinking about something.

"Whats up?" I ask him, cautiously.

"Ya wanna go somewhere with me?"

"Okay, the amount of times I've heard that and it's turned out to be in a bathroom, or the back of a car, or--"

"--No, not this time. I promise." He innocently insists and I rub my lips together, extending my pinky out to him.

He grins and wraps his pinky with mine.

We end up on the sunset strip, and when we pull onto the side of the street in front of the boys' old apartment, I furrow my brows.

"What are we doing here?" I ask him as he opens the door.

"You comin'?" He asks me, and I take a breath and get out, following him.

"Can we be out here?" I whisper, glancing around.

"Probably not." He replies as we walk up the fire escape to the window.

"Is anybody living here, Nikki?" I ask.

"Yes, Viv, people are living here and we're just gonna break in on them." He says smartly and I roll my eyes.

I guess the jank window lock never got fixed because he's lifting it up with a mere shake.

"Get in." He nods, smiling at me.

"Nikki, this is trespassing." I inform him, hesitant to climb through the window.

"Viv, get in the apartment." He nudges me and I laugh.

"Nikki…"

"You gotta quit being that scared little church girl at some point, Viv, now c'mon." He chuckles, but I know he's being serious.

I just look at him and shake my head a little before sliding into the apartment.

He follows after me, pulling the window back down as we're in the pitch black apartment, the only light is from the neon shining in the street from the strip.

"I wonder how many roaches would scram if we turned the lights on." He says without a thought and my skin crawls.

"The lights probably aren't even on anymore since nobody's lived here in a while." I point out, keeping my voice down.

"You think?" He chuckles, stepping through the living room, going to the kitchen.

His hand goes to the top of the fridge, fumbling around where I used to keep candles in case the power went out.

He's finding one that's covered in dust, but he just blows it off and digs in his pocket, pulling out a lighter.

He lights it and it only helps a little to help us see better, but enough to know where bugs are and aren't.

I don't see any as of now, checking the stained carpet for rat crap before sitting down as he steps to me and does the same…

"I think it's important for you to know that this exact spot is where Vince and I came in to see Tommy screwing this chick just so he could drive her car." He informs me.

"What?"

"Tommy had this girl and she said if he fucked her she'd let him drive her car, it was like a corvette I think or something but she was cute, she was a bigger girl, though." He explains. "So if you can imagine, me and Vince walking in and there's Tommy, on top of her, his legs barely able to touch the ground because of how big she was and he was a fucking shrimp so of course it didn't go too hot." He adds.

"What did you do? Did you just leave or--"

"--We sat down and watched them finish." He admits and I widen my eyes.

"Nikki, ew!" I wrinkle my nose.

"What, it was funny watching him struggle to handle that much ass." He chuckles and I shake my head.

"You're disgusting."

"They didn't care."

"You're a pervert." I declare.

"Don't act like you haven't known that." He cuts his eyes at me. "That's probably one of the things that made you all hot and heavy for me in the first place."

"Oh, please." I scoff.

He chuckles a little more, getting quiet for a second.

"What did make you interested in me?" He asks me and I look at him and shyly grin, making him raise his brows.

"I can't tell you that." I shake my head.

"No, now you have to tell me." He licks his lips.

"I can't." I laugh, feeling my face heat up.

"Vivian Sixx, come on." He nudges me.

"You're gonna think I'm shallow." I tell him. "And selfish."

"Bullshit." He states, looking at me. "Try me."

"Well, you were very attractive and opinionated...and good in bed." I confess.

"What?!" He sounds surprised and I roll my eyes. "Oh, no, no, all this about how much you loved me only for me to find out that the only reason you were even with me to begin with was because I could make your eyes roll to the back of your head." He teases, mimicking a hurt voice. "I was a piece of meat used for your pleasure. Wow." He adds.

"Oh, like I wasn't that to you, then?" I ask, trying not to laugh.

"That was the plan at first." He admits.

"At first?"

"Yeah...then, ya know…I liked doing that stuff with you and then I liked just being around you." He tells me.

"So it's safe to say the only reason we even got together was because we were inconsolably horny?" I ask.

"Without a doubt." He rubs his eyes. "But see that's why I wanna take things slow this time. I've never taken anything slow and I feel like we didn't have time to really know each other before we got married because we were in a cloud of puppy love and lust and shit and jumped into it." He points out.

"You're telling me." I smile.

"I didn't even think you'd want to do this." He tells me out of nowhere and I furrow my brows and look at him.

"Do what?"

"Hangout with me." He rubs his forehead.

"Nikki, c'mon." I scoff, elbowing him gently.

"I just didn't see it happening this soon." He laughs it off.

"Why not?"

"I thought you hated me." He says.

"What?"

"I mean, during therapy and stuff you were dealing with everything going on, I guess, and just got really hostile and I thought you'd end up wanting the divorce after I told you everything that happened and--"

"--I got knocked up with a man's baby whose career you helped and someone you thought of as a friend at one point." I point out. "I know we weren't technically together anymore but you still stayed when you could've left and I know that was hard. So if you could do that, there was no question about staying with you. I knew when we agreed to work things out that we'd have to hurt each other some more with the shit neither of us knew about over the years, but we have it behind us now so it's okay." I tell him.

"I guess we just weren't ready to be together." He suggests.

"No, we weren't." I shake my head. "But we're good right now."

He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, we are."

We sit silently for a moment, just looking at each other...his pretty eyes framed by black hair that isn't in its once mandatory teased state, his jaw is a little more pronounced since he's been working out, a few new tattoos on his arms.

I blink slowly, the two of us getting closer without realizing it, and it's when he's glancing between my eyes and lips that my skin heats up and I have to get some space between us.

"Um," I sit up, leaning back on my palms, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and he clears his throat, "I like your tattoos." I say to him, and he glances at his right arm and raises his brows.

"Thanks, I'm getting them filled in, soon, and then I kinda want a whole sleeve by the time the album's done." He explains.

I notice the "V" on his arm is now a "IV" and the small script "SIXX" is over it, as if adding an emphasis.

"You fixed that." I comment, running my thumb over the ink.

"Yeah, I had it done, like, the second week of January." He mumbles with an awkward look on his face.

"Oh, I haven't noticed." I reply.

"Well, I noticed you got that," he points to the small space between my ear and my hairline. "What's up with '17'?" He asks.

"Something Izzy told me once when I was feeling crappy about myself. He told me I was a seventeen out of ten and it's something I've been kinda repeating to myself when I feel like I'm failing the whole independent thing." I admit.

"Independent thing?" He asks, slightly confused.

"You know, living by myself, doing things on my own?"

"Your dad's not staying with you?"

"No, Nikki, he comes to babysit Monroe but he's not living with me full-time or anything. And Duff and Mandy are just down the road if I need them and Sharise and Heather and Emi come to visit and stay with me sometimes but other than that it's me and Monroe."

"You used to couldn't even sleep by yourself, let alone live by yourself." He states.

"Well, you used to couldn't go a night without going to clubs and coming home at 4:00am high but look at you, now." I point out.

"Point taken." He nods.

"We're slowly turning into grown-ups." I add.

"I guess we are." He agrees.

"Yeah."

Again, he hones in on my lips, his hand coming up to grab my jaw gently, pulling me in to kiss him.

"Nikki," I say quietly just as our lips brush together, "if you kiss me, I'm gonna end up face down, ass up, and I don't want to mess this up." I continue and he smirks, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to my lips, before leaning away from me, standing up.

"I think it's nearly your curfew." He tells me, extending his hand to help me up.

I nod, trying to hide my smile, before taking his hand and letting him help me up.

When we pull into my driveway, I unbuckle and look at him, grinning.

"I had fun." I tell him, about to open the door. "Why did we go there tonight?" I ask him before I leave, and he shrugs.

"I figured since we're starting over we might as well have gone where we started together, you know." He tells me and I feel something pull in my heart.

"Thank you, for tonight, Nikki." I say, genuinely, and he grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles.

"Later, Sixx." He says and I grin.

"Later." I get out and shut the door, giving a small wave before stepping into the house, seeing my dad's already got the flowers on display in a vase on the table.

I slowly start smiling, bigger and bigger until my cheeks hurt and a girlish squeal is echoing through the foyer while I kick my heels off and jump up and down, butterflies in my stomach.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

42 notes · View notes

slashscowboyboots · 4 years

Text

The Blackboard Jungle: Amarillo by Morning (Part 2)

Part 1

I think I can get all of this out by Christmas (if my Internet doesn’t take a shit like it has the last two days). Thank you for your great feedback

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @harley-m-rose @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: asshole alert, more stuff coming out of the kids, fanfic smut. All credit to the songwriters and I hope Ian Ziering is having a good time wherever he is

“Is tonight the night?” you wondered, glancing at your hair and smoothing your dress in the mirror. You were getting ready to go out on a date tonight, possibly with your soulmate. Someone named Ian Ziering.

No, not the actor. He was actually a friend of yours, since you’d contacted him on Facebook, dming him a photo of your arm and asking if he had a tattoo of your name. He sent back a picture of “Hortensia” boldly inked between his shoulder blades and the two of you commiserated for hours.

Eventually, though, love struck. Ian invited you to be his guest at his latest “Sharknado” premiere, and you ended up seated next to a stunningly pretty actress carrying a flask in her purse, and as the two of you imbibed, she spilled the tea on everyone in Hollywood, delicious and hot and fresh.

More than a little drunk, you asked her what her soulmate mark was, and she pulled her dress up her thigh to reveal the initials “I. A. Z.,” which made you collapse into stupefied giggles.

“Heeeeyyyy, Sia,” you slurred, snickering loud enough people turned around and stared, “heeeeyy, you gotta meet my friend.”

Ian had Facetimed you, saying that someone had reached out to him saying that he had the same name as him, although he wasn’t a member of Ian’s family. When he realized this Ian only lived an hour from you, he immediately got in touch.

“Maybe he’s the one,” he said, hope visible in his icy blue eyes. “Do you want me to set you up with him?”

“Sure,” you replied. It was completely pointless to carry a torch for Jeff Isbell, his initials didn’t match up with your marking, although he was completely under your skin. He’d bought you two cases of paste, as well as a sour cherry scone from the bakery across from the school, and because his room was next to yours, you frequently consolidated your classes, often with eye-opening results.

“Miss Teacher,” one of his students said, and you bent down to her. “I gotta birfmark.” She removed her shoe, then yanked her sock off and held out her right foot, proudly displaying the TAD decorating the top of it.

“Oh, you said, squatting next to her, “T. A. D.”

She drew her head back, her tiny face creasing in disgust at your horrifying ignorance. “No, that’s Tad, Miss Teacher. I can read, you know.”

You were immediately apologetic. “Oh, yes, of course, um-?”

“Mari,” Jeff gently provided.

“Did you call me?” one of your pupils asked, and you looked into Tad Wilson’s huge brown eyes.

“Uh, no, honey, I didn’t,” and before you could say anything else, Mari lunged her still naked foot at him.

“I got your name on my foot,” she said. “It’s a birfmark. You got one?”

Tad blinked at her, then yanked up his shirt. Over his heart was a small but intricate swallowtail butterfly.

Jeff gasped. “It-no, it can’t be. That’s unbelievable.”

You looked at him, his face visibly paler and his eyes enormous. “What’s unbelievable?”

“Her name-her name is Mariposa.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s me,” Mari giggled, touching the butterfly and making Tad blush. “Can I hug you?”

He pulled his shirt down and held out his arms. “Sure.” They pulled each other into a sweet embrace, and Jeff sat down at his desk and rubbed his hands against his face.

“That would’ve made my life easier,” he muttered.

You watched the two kids giggle and twirl each other around, your heart aching at how adorable and lucky they were, and asked, “You haven’t met your soulmate yet, Mr. Isbell?”

“No, and I probably never will.”

“Why?” you asked, curious.

He looked up at you, and his eyes were so tired, you could have cried for him. “It’s not a picture, or initials, or even a name. At least I don’t think it’s a name.” He dug a palm into his left eye, then sighed. “Uh, have you found yours?”

“No,” you said quietly.

“What did you end up with?”

“Uh, initials. They aren’t common.” You looked away, feeling a lump aching in your throat. “I-I have a date tonight, though.”

Jeff jerked his head up, then set his mouth in a thin line. “Hey, that’s great. Good luck.”

He’s not who I want, though, you thought, and before you could say that out loud, Tad threw Mari on the ground and ran to you.

“OW!” she howled, holding her head. “Mr. Isbell, he hurt me!”

“Miss Teacher,” Tad gasped, holding his rear, “I need to poop!”

“Go, go!” you said, escorting him to the toilet in the back of the room. When he shut the door, you gave the thumbs up to Jeff, who nodded, his eyes still heartbreakingly sad.

You’d agreed to meet Ian at an upscale restaurant halfway between your locations, and when you arrived at Sur La Table, he was nowhere to be found.

“Reservation for Ziering,” you said to the hostess, and she guided you back to a private table.

After you were seated, you checked your phone to see if he’d sent you any texts saying he’d be late. He hadn’t.

He was attractive, not as Jeff but not bad, you thought, scrolling through your very limited correspondences and sighing as you thought, Maybe this is what’s meant to be. You took another drink of water, and another, and after three glasses of it you were ready to leave when he flopped down in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” he said, throwing you a wink and aiming finger guns at you.

“Um, hello, Ian,” you said politely, noticing a lack of apology for his lateness. “Did you get held up at work?”

He took a long drink of water, then snapped his fingers at your server. “I need a beer, toots, like now,” he said to her. “Chop chop.” He rolled his eyes. “Stupid college kids. No, I found this new filter on Snapchat and I was really feeling it, y’know. Sent it to a couple of my honeys.”

“Did you now?” you asked, ice creeping into your voice.

He threw his arm over the back of his chair. “Yeah, I mean, my hair looked good today, so why waste it?”

On what? you thought irritably, as your server sat his beer down.

Ian grabbed her arm. “I’d like the filet, well done. You got ketchup here?” he asked, and you bit back a wince at what he planned on doing to such a nice cut of steak. He handed the menu back to her, then snatched yours out of your hands. “She’ll have salad, no croutons, no dressing.”

“I beg your pardon?” you snapped.

“Can”t have you porking up if you’re my soulmate. I need you to eat quick, too, hun, I gotta ‘Stop the Steal’ meeting starting in 20 minutes. My man Trump was robbed.”

You stood up so fast, your chair nearly tipped over behind you. “I think I’m done here,” you announced, throwing an arm in your jacket.

“Un uh, I ain’t getting stuck with the bill!” he hissed, standing up as well. “You make all the money, you’re supposed to pay for this.”

Although it pained you to remain in his presence, you had to ask, “Ian, just what exactly was your soulmate tattoo?”

Heart pounding and terrified you’d find your own initials, you watched him pull his shirt sleeve up and reveal a cat on his inner forearm. “It’s pussy,” he smirked. “I get all the snatch I want.”

“Good luck with that,” you said, already heading towards the door. Before you left, you stopped your server and handed her two 20 dollar bills. “Please cancel our order. And I’m sorry he was such a prick.”

“No shit?” Ian asked, his mouth hanging open as he held his phone.

“What an asshole,” Sia said. “Did you hit him in the balls?”

“Now, love,” Ian said, shaking his head, “violence is never the answer.”

She shrugged, flicking her dark hair back. “I guess you’re right. So did you key his car?”

“No, Sia,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to take a hot bath and try to forget today.”

“That sounds good Sis,” she replied. “I think I’m going to flood his email with VD and ED ads. Goodnight, honey.”

“I love this woman,” Ian said, grinning as he pecked her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Mmm, Blaze, that was incredible.”

“You were like a tornado. I’ve never been with a woman who had so much passion. You nearly made me pass out.” Blaze’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “That was like angry sex. Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled. “No, my handsome cowboy. I’ll never be mad at you. I-” you wanted to tell Blaze you loved him, that you hadn’t thought about anyone but him since you first laid eyes on him at the faculty meeting rodeo.

But Blaze was heading to Amarillo in the morning, up from your San Antone home. He’d only be wearing everything he owned, and your heart ached to watch him leave. It was heartbreaking that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together, that an unseen hand controlling the universe opted to keep the two of you apart.

He turned over, his large hand caressing your face, his greenish eyes questioning. “I what, baby?”

You threw the covers off of you and trotted over to your gun safe. “I want to target practice.”

After lining up a row of cantaloupes and pumpkins, you neatly dispatched them one by one, thinking about jerks, feeling the bullets leaving the chamber with a scream and watching the fruit blow apart with a happy thrill.

“Well, that was terrifying,” Blaze drawled in his midwestern twang.

You opened the pistol, barrel still smoking, and said, “Little sister don’t miss when she aims her gun.”

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic

30 notes · View notes

bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 5 years

Text

BTS Reaction| You get in a fight after someone flirts with them

Namjoon

Namjoon was too nice to say anything when someone tried to flirt with him, however that didn’t mean you were. This random girl had been trying to flirt with him the entire time you two were on a date together and you had enough. She kept making eyes at him, giggling every time he looked at her and seemingly not caring that you were sitting right in front of him and you two were clearly together. You slammed your hands on the table and got up ready to say something to her when Namjoon grabbed your arm and tugged you back down.

“Let go of me Namjoon I’m not going to watch this random hoe flirting with you a second longer.” You stand up but Namjoon tugs you back to sit in his lip. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you in place. “Namjoon!”

“Yes y/n, my love, my angel, my princess?” He feels you relax at the pet names so he lets go of your waist. “Are you calm now?”

“For now.. if she looks at you one more time though I swear to god.”

“Here, let’s just switch sides. Then she’ll be looking at the back of my head and seeing your death glares instead.” You laugh and get up from his lap, switching sides with him. You pick up your steak knife and flash it at her as she startles and immediately looks away.

“Jagi!”

“Sorry, Joon. Just had to make my point known.”

Jin

You should be used to it by now. With how handsome Jin is people tried to flirt with him all the time. Usually when he told them he was happily taken the person would leave him alone. However this girl wasn’t taking no for an answer and you weren’t having it. The barista continued to be flirty when she touched his hand as she was handing him his coffee however that was the final straw for you.

“You better keep that hand to yourself if you want to keep it attached to your body you hear me?” She looks surprised at the outburst and looks back and forth between the two of you.

“Wait, this is the one you’re happily taken by?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean you little-“ Suddenly you feel arms wrap around your waist and you’re lifted into the air.

“Sorry about that! We’ll be going now!” Jin carries you out of the cafe and you kick your legs demanding he put you down. When you are outside and down the street away from the cafe he finally sets you down.

"Are you done now?”

“What do you mean am I done now? That girl wouldn’t take no for an answer from you so I took matters into my own hands!”

“My little knight in shining armor always coming to my rescue.” He ruffles your hair and you begin to laugh at his comment. “There. No more fighting okay? I’d much rather see you happy and with a smile on your face than letting some random girl that means nothing to me get to you.”

Yoongi

You were out to dinner with Yoongi and you couldn’t help but notice how flirty the waitress was being with him. She seemed to purposely be ignoring you and pretending like you weren’t also sitting at the table with him. However when she touched his shoulder while talking to him and leaned closer to talk to him you had enough. Yoongi was clearly uncomfortable trying to shrug her hand off of him. You slammed your hands down loudly on the table causing both of them to jump. She leapt away from him in surprise.

“You touch my boyfriend again this steak knife is going in your eye you hear me?” She’s rendered speechless at your threat. “You really are either extremely stupid or you just don’t care that we’re clearly together. Either way neither of those options bode well for you. So I suggest you find someone else to serve us and don’t let me catch you even looking in our direction again.” The manager hears the commotion and comes over to check on you both. When you tell him what happened he’s extremely apologetic and offers to have your meal paid for by the restaurant. You thank him sweetly, giving Yoongi whiplash seeing the drastic change in your mood. You both are walking out of the restaurant now when Yoongi suddenly starts laughing.

“Wow. I had no idea you had such a temper y/n. But it got us a free meal I guess..” You don’t say anything, just sit there in silence still fuming over what happened.

“Hey, y/n listen. You can’t get mad whenever someone flirts with me, okay? I know I was joking around about it but one of these days you might pick a fight with the wrong person and I don’t want to see you get hurt, okay?”

Hoseok

You found it ridiculous that you couldn’t even go to the grocery store without someone hitting on your boyfriend. You had a horrible temper, which Hoseok knew. He tried to shake the girl off before you snapped but she just couldn’t take the hints so you decided to make it a little more obvious.

“Sweetie listen he’s not interested. We are clearly together incase you can’t tell by the fact he’s been holding my hand the entire time we’ve been shopping together so why don’t you fuck off before this tub of ketchup is dumped on your head?”

“Jagi!”

“What?! She obviously can’t take no for answer and I’m not going to stay quiet while some hussy flirts with you.”

“Hussy?!”

“Stay out of this. Seriously my girlfriend has a bad temper and if you continue to make her mad she’s going to snap. And you don’t want that trust me she’s crazy.” She startles and walks away and you can’t help but start laughing.

“Crazy? Really Hobi?”

“What?! It got her to leave us alone didn’t it?! I thought you were about ready to square up with that girl I was just trying to prevent a fight.” He kisses your forehead and you instantly relax. “Besides I only have eyes for you. You have nothing to worry about angel.”

Jimin

Jimin is shocked when he sees you yelling at the cashier at the convenient store. He stepped away for a few minutes to get something to drink and now you were shouting at her, something about her flirting with him while you walked away. You weren’t wrong, she had hit on him when you went to grab some snacks but he doesn’t like violence in the slightest. He comes up behind you and apologizes to the girl before practically dragging you out of the store. He looks very disappointed in you and your face falls.

“Y/n we talked about this. You can’t fight with every person who flirts with me! You don't see me getting mad when people hit on you! You need to be the bigger person and just walk away. You know I would never cheat on you so I don’t understand why you get so mad?”

“I’m sorry Jimin.. I wish I knew, but I just have a bad temper. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I guess part of me is just afraid you might like one of these other girls better and leave me for them.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses your lips.

“That would never happen. So please stop fighting with people. I hate violence of any kind even if it is just yelling I don’t want to see things escalate and have you get hurt or hurt someone else. Okay? Promise me.” He holds out his pinky and you link yours with his.

“Okay. I promise I’ll work on it.”

Taehyung

You were used to people flirting with Taehyung by now. He wasn’t voted the world’s most handsome face for nothing. Usually you could ignore it but this girl was really getting on your nerves. Thinking she could just flirt with anyone she wanted, especially with you sitting right next to him was infuriating.

“Hey, you. You mind leaving us alone? I’m trying to enjoy a nice night with my boyfriend and you’re ruining it.”

“What do you mean I’m ruining it? He clearly isn’t interested in you or he wouldn’t be looking at me the whole time.”

“Are you serious right now? He’s just too sweet of a man to tell you to fuck off so maybe I should.” You make a move towards the girl but Taehyung grabs you and drags you along until you both are back at the car.

“Jagi. Listen I know you have a bad temper but you need to calm down. Starting fights with people just because they flirt with me isn’t going to solve anything. It’s just going to make things worse.” You sigh and run your fingers through your hair as you realize he's right.

“I’m sorry Tae. I just can’t help it. People flirt with you all the time and sometimes it just gets to me. Sometimes I wonder if you’d be happier with someone else and it come out as anger.”

“Baby, listen I love you. You have nothing to worry about the only person I want is you.”

Jungkook

You were at an award show after party with Jungkook as his plus one. You were trying to keep your temper in check, having watched this idol all over him the whole night. When she touches his arm and laughs that’s when you really start to get mad. You don’t realize how tightly you’re gripping the glass until Jimin gently pries your fingers apart and sets the glass on the counter.

“You were about to crack that thing in pieces y/n. What’s wrong?” He follows your line of sight and sees what has caught your attention.

“Ah, that one. She’s always flirting with Jungkook and he hates it. He told me she makes him really uncomfortable.”

“Then why is he still sitting there talking to her?”

“We have appearances to keep up y/n. Even at after party events we can't be rude. And neither can you. I know your temper is like a ticking time bomb but trust me. Jungkook only has eyes for you and he loves you.” You start to relax at his words, but are still aggravated by the sight of her. You walk over and link your arm with Jungkook and place a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey love, can we go now? I’m tired and I want to go home and have cuddles with my boyfriend.” You glance at the other idol and smile sweetly at her. “Oh I’m sorry, who are you? I’m y/n Jungkook’s girlfriend.” You hold your hand out and when she takes it to be polite you squeeze it a little too hard causing her to flinch and snatch her hand away.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be going now.” She walks away from the two of you and you’re snickering on the inside at your small victory.

“What are you looking so smug for? I saw what you did. That temper of yours is going to get you in trouble some day you know?”

“Mmm, maybe but that day is not today.”

541 notes · View notes

ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 9 of it’s always ourselves we find is here!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

[kristanna / m / modern au / coworkers & enemies to lovers ;) ]

It was a marvel, really, how quickly she returned to him: his Anna, with all her ungraceful laughter and bright smiles and brighter eyes.

He thought of her as such not because he dared to think he had any real claim to her, but rather because this Anna, the one who had let go of his hand only to eat her lunch, was the one he’d grown so familiar with and fond of over the past months, the one who drove him absolutely insane in more ways than he could count.

Currently, she was in the midst of explaining in excruciating detail precisely how awful the two dates she’d been on with Hans had been, and Kristoff found himself laughing so hard his sides were beginning to hurt.

“Seriously, Kris, it’s not funny,” she said between giggles of her own. “I ruined my tights crawling out the window, and I’d just bought them.”

“Sorry,” he managed to gasp. “Just-- I’m trying to picture how you even managed to get up on the ledge--”

“Shut up, you great big brute, not all of us can be the size of a tree.”

“Sorry,” he said again, though he wasn’t at all. “Just-- was it really that bad that you had to climb out of the bathroom window?”

She grew a little more solemn then. “Yeah, like-- like Hans ordered a salad for me, and said to put the dressing on the side, and of course I scarfed it down like a crazy person since I’d just been hiking all afternoon with my sister, and he was going on and on and on about his vision for the company, and I kept wondering what he’d do if I just reached across the table and stole a piece of his steak.”

Kristoff grew quieter, just watching her as she took a sip of her drink. Her gaze fluttered up to him after a moment, curious. “Cat got your tongue?”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, weighing his words carefully for fear of using them carelessly again. “Just...wondering why you thought I’d do that to you on purpose.”

“Do what? Say what you did this morning?”

“No-- shit, I’m sorry again for that-- but I meant setting you up with Hans.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Was it really not on purpose?”

“Do you really think I’d do Hans Westergaard a favor like that?”

“A favor, huh?”

“Well,” he stammered, “he’s-- well-- you know how he is with pretty girls.”

A little smile slid onto her face. Please don’t ask me, he thought desperately, please don’t ask me if I think you’re pretty, because I can’t lie to you, Anna, not any more.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “So...okay. So from my perspective, it was like...I was in the break room with Jessica and Lissa, and they were trying to get you to ask me.”

“Wait, what?”

“Mhmm. That’s why they were like ‘hey, Kristoff, Anna needs a date to the fundraiser ball, do you know anyone who could take her?’, and then Hans came in--”

“That’s what it was! I didn’t see him, I swear. Sorry, go on.”

“So then why did you say ‘I’m sure Hans is on the lookout’?”

“I was being sarcastic. He brings a new girl to everything. I didn’t mean for him to actually ask you.”

Anna sat back, looking as if she’d just been handed the meaning of the whole universe. “You really didn’t? After the party-- which was awful, by the way, you didn’t miss anything-- I thought you’d set me up for it almost like a prank. And then he asked me out again in front of people, and I couldn’t really say no, so that’s how I ended up on the second one, and after that I was really convinced you hated me.”

Kristoff shook his head, leaning over the table, and said as sincerely as he could, “Anna, even if I did hate you, I wouldn’t wish that rat bastard on my worst enemy.”

She beamed at him so brightly he had a feeling she’d be holding his hand again if there weren’t plates in the way. He wished she would anyway; who cared about getting a little ketchup on your sleeve when a girl like that wanted to touch you?

A sudden thought struck him then. “Wait-- but why did your friends want me to ask you?”

Her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. “For reasons.”

“What reasons?”

“Silly ones.”

“Anna,” he cajoled, half-singing her name and wondering in the back of his mind how she’d managed to make him act so...silly. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just your favorite worst enemy.”

“You can’t laugh,” she said sternly, her blush darkening. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She sighed and slanted her eyes away from him, leveling a determined glare at the shrimp tails on her plate. “Because I told them I thought you were handsome.”

He didn’t know what answer he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Seriously? You really thought that?”

She rolled her eyes as she dared to glance back up at him. “Oh, come on, Kristoff, as if you don’t know you’re all…” She waved a hand vaguely. “Big and blonde and. And your face and stuff.”

He wanted to take a long moment to let it sink in; it was almost too much for one day, realizing that Anna not only cared about his opinion, not only seemed to actually sort of like him, not only wanted to keep touching him-- but that she thought he was handsome. “Wow,” he heard himself saying. “I can’t believe it.”

“Okay, okay, well, it’s your turn in the hot seat, mister,” she said grumpily, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the still-red tips of her ears. “Why did you snap at me this morning?”

It was his turn to flush. “It was nothing. I was just-- just in a bad mood.”

“You’re always in a bad mood,” she said, her brows knitting together as she leaned over the table. “Tell me the truth.”

Fuck, that gave him a great view right down the front of her shirt, which definitely was not making this any easier. He tried not to shift too obviously in his seat as he kept his gaze firmly locked on her face. “Just-- one of those...things.”

And now she was reaching for him across the table, concern in her eyes as she settled that little hand over his arm, that little hand that he’d dreamed that morning she’d had wrapped around his cock, for god’s sake, and her voice was so gentle as she said, “Kris, just tell me the truth, please?”

He swallowed hard and shook his head in a last ditch effort to make her back down. She tilted her head to the side, confused, when suddenly understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh.”

“It wasn’t ‘cause you were there,” he said quickly, although it most definitely had been at least in part because of that. “I promise I’m not a--”

She sat back a little, though she didn’t move her hand. He could tell she was trying to contain her mirth and spare him further embarrassment. “It’s okay. I’ve had boyfriends before, I know how it is.”

“It’s different,” he ground out, feeling his face heat further than he thought was possible.

He realized suddenly that something else had dawned on her, that her amusement had transformed into realization-- of what, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He shifted awkwardly in his seat again, and at last she withdrew her hand, running it absentmindedly through her hair. “Sorry, again,” he muttered, looking anywhere but her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Seriously. You can’t help it. And you already apologized enough for the other stuff.”

“I still feel bad. Let me make it up to you, let me buy your lunch or something, yeah?”

She waved him away. “Let’s just say you owe me one, maybe I’ll have you drive me to the print shop next time I need to pick up a banner or something.”

He blinked in surprise. “You don’t need a favor to ask me to do that.”

Her eyes softened. “Really?”

All Kristoff could do was nod, feeling grateful that the waiter chose that moment to come by with the check. As he began to do the mental calculations for what he’d have to give up next week to cover both of their meals, Anna said quickly, “We’re splitting it, no matter what he tries to say,” even as he began to fumble for his wallet.

And damn, if that didn’t make him lo-- like her even more.

---

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, wearing his softest old t-shirt and sweatpants, Anna was already nestled under the blankets, keeping carefully to her side of the pillow wall. A little flutter in his chest accompanied the realization that she’d decided to keep their arrangement from the night before and hadn’t set a pillow between where their faces would be.

He came to a pause by his side of the bed. “Anna?”

“Hmm?” she asked, not looking up from her phone.

“Can I...this pillow here, the one by your shoulder...do you mind if I move that one and use it tonight? Sorry, I know it’s-- well, sharing a bed and all-- but my neck kind of hurts from staring at the screen all day, and--”

She did look up at him, a look of fond amusement on her face. “‘Course. Just don’t go getting fresh with me.”

He huffed out a laugh as he shifted the pillow to his side before climbing in bed next to her, being as careful as he could not to jostle the mattress too much. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

(Except he would. And he had.)

He glanced over at her then, giving himself one last chance to take in the sight of her long, tawny lashes brushing down almost to her freckled cheeks each time she blinked. She noticed him staring and glanced up at him. “What? Have I got something on my face?”

“Are you gonna snore again tonight?” he asked, accompanying the words with an exaggerated wink just to make sure she knew he was joking.

She slid further down the pillows, set her phone on her nightstand with an exaggerated tap, and stretched one final time, arching her back enough he felt his mouth go dry, before turning lazily to him and giving him a smirk. “Depends. Are you gonna say my name in your sleep again?”

For a split second, he could have sworn every moving thing in his body came to a complete halt. Any half-asleep thoughts that had been trailing around his mind collapsed into the terrifying refrain of she knows.

“Anna?”

No response.

“Anna, did I really say that?”

She reached up and flicked off the light, leaving them in complete darkness. “Sweet dreams, big guy.”

He could hear the barely concealed laughter in her voice. Fuck, he was in massive trouble; there was no way he’d ever live this one down or that she’d let it go. He felt like a window fogged with steam, too warm and cloudy-minded as he struggled to come to grips with the fact that she knew he had feelings for her, knew he’d woken up hard because he’d dreamed of her-- and, the realization hitting him like a splash of cold water to the face-- she was still lying in bed beside him.

“Kristoff?”

“Yeah?” he asked, a little too quickly.

“Are you still awake?”

“Obviously.”

“Because you’re worrying you’ll say my name again?”

He swallowed so hard he wondered if she could hear it. And perhaps she could, because a moment later there was a rustling of the sheets, and that now-familiar little hand was resting on his chest as Anna’s fingertips idly traced patterns across the thin white fabric of his t-shirt. “It’s okay, Kris, really,” she said, her voice gentler now. “I thought it was sweet.”

Perhaps he was in less trouble than he’d thought.

He drew in a deep breath. Her hand began to slow, and then to pull away, but before she had entirely lifted it from his chest he set his own hand down over it, so suddenly he startled even himself. He heard a sharp intake of breath from her before her hand relaxed again under his, palm flattening just over his heart.

For a few minutes they simply laid next to each other, as he let his thumb slide back and forth over her hand. As he felt his heart rate slow under the gentle press of Anna’s hand, he heard her breath slow down, evening out until a faint snore escaped her. He couldn’t help but smile then, giving her hand one last squeeze before carefully setting it on the mattress between them and rolling on his side to face her.

“Good night, Anna,” he whispered, but the only response was another snore.

#kristanna #my fics #iaowf

21 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

979

survey by xalikattx

FOOD

What is your favorite salad dressing? I’m not really familiar with most of them as I only consume one type of salad and the recipe for that usually calls for mayo and some kind of spicy sauce. I guess that’s my favorite dressing by default.

Favorite sit-down restaurant? Yabu for days. I personally don’t think that will change for me. Mama Lou’s is also nice but its crowd can be so boujee it kills the dine-in experience for me.

Favorite pizza topping? I’m easy to please; I just like my pizzas cheesy.

What food could you eat for two weeks straight and not get sick of it? Fried chicken sandwiches.

What do you put on your toast? Butter is fine with me. I don’t really eat toast.

What food do you eat the most? I have rice in every meal.

Do you like food? Yes.

Do you LOVE food? Yesssssssssir. I have my preferences and things that I don’t like but I’m not picky for the most part, and I love being adventurous with the foods I try.

Do you even eat at all? ...What kind of question is this

What do you put on your ice cream? I never customize my ice cream. I usually consume ice cream however way it’s already served.

Do you like steak? For sure.

Or are you a vegetarian? No.

How about a vegan? No.

What food do you hate the most? I’ve never learned how to appreciate kakanin, which is a group of a variety of sweet rice cakes that we have in Philippine cuisine. This has definitely caused my Filipino card to be revoked in the past lol, but ugh the texture is just so slimy and I hate how, even though we have so many types of kakanin, they all just taste and feel like sticky, chewed-up rice doused in sugar and coconut flakes. Korean rice cakes taste so much better.

TECHNOLOGY

How many TVs are in your house? We have four. Two downstairs, two upstairs.

Do they all work? I think the one in my brother’s room has stopped working but we just never get around to throwing it out because of the possibility of it getting fixed someday.

Do you have Comcast digital cable? I don’t know what that is. Probably a US thing? In that case we don’t. We used to have cable TV but my dad ceased our subscription a few months ago because no one in the family has been watching the TV for cable anymore and he got sick of paying for something that we don’t even avail of; we all stream our shows and movies on Netflix now.

AT&T Uverse? Definitely no AT&T on this side of the world, so no.

Dish Network? No.

Something else? Obviously.

Nothing? Again, it was a local cable provider but we’ve since cut off our subscription.

What's your favorite show? Of all time, Breaking Bad. Currently, it’s The Crown but I’ve been such a bad viewer at the moment; I stopped watching at some point a few months ago and haven’t gone back to Netflix since, welp.

What's the worst show? I don’t objectively know what’s the worst one out there but when it comes to my personal preferences, I’ve just never seen the appeal of shows targeted to teenagers or a younger demographic in general, like Teen Wolf, 13 Reasons Why, Riverdale, the TV adaptation of Scream, etc. Of course, this is just my own taste and I certainly don’t judge people who enjoy these shows.

What color cell phone do you have? The official name is Space Gray but that’s too fancy so let’s just call it black.

What kind? iPhone 8.

What does the first text message in your inbox say and who sent it? So I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my text threads and the last person on the list is Ate Frances, and she was just telling me to check my Messenger because she had sent me a question regarding an event our org was holding at the time.

What was the last text you sent and who did you send it to? Gabie. I simply said “hi.”

Who was the last person to call you? My mom.

Who was the last person you called? Gab.

CURRENTLY

Are you missing someone? Yeah but let’s not get into it.

What are you listening to? I can hear rain pouring from outside my window.

Watching? It’s mostly background noise because I’m focusing on this survey, but I have on a YouTube video playing.

Worrying about? Work. I was tasked to think of PR executions for a client over the weekend and I just really really dislike it when I’m assigned to something that forces me to brainstorm, so ugh. Wish me luck because my brain juices have been feeling weak all weekend.

Where are you? I’m in my bedroom, my favorite place to be these days.

What's it like there? Lonely, but it’s quiet and comfortable. I used to avoid my bedroom all the time everyday because it makes me depressed, but now I am depressed and prefer to stay here all the time too.

How are you feeling? A little sad but I think tonight’s one of the nights I can fake it a little more easily, which is decent enough for me.

Is anyone with you? Who? Just Kimi.

Are you hungry? I haven’t had an appetite in a while. No.

What do you want to eat? I’m not craving anything.

Thirsty? I’m good, thank you.

What do you want to drink? I might end up drinking some of the plum soju that’s been in the fridge for months tonight, even though I told myself I wasn’t interested in touching it lol.

What time is it? 6:58 PM.

LASTS

Thing you ate? A tuna empanada.

Thing you drank? Pretty sure it was just water.

Thing you said? “Go, pee” It was to Kimi as I set him down on the balcony.

Movie you watched? I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Ugh, I really should watch a more light-hearted movie soon because this answer is such a depressing one and I’m tired of mentioning it.

Store you went to? What did you buy? Grocery store; dog food.

Person you talked to? My sister.

Person you hugged? I think it was Gabie.

Kissed? Also her.

Yelled at? I haven’t raised my voice in a while. I don’t remember anymore.

Book you read? Midnight Sun.

Thing you touched? Other than the keyboard, I pushed up my eyeglasses.

Person you became friends with on Facebook/Myspace/whatever other site? [continued the next day] A co-intern, Justine, added me on Facebook. I honestly don’t see the point of being Facebook friends because we’re bound to part ways and never encounter each other again after our internship...but I guess it’s nice to have friendly co-workers.

RANDOM

Are a righty or a lefty? Righty.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Just a decaying tooth, but otherwise no organs or anything larger.

What is the last heavy object you lifted? Does Cooper count? Little man has been getting so big over the last few weeks. He’s finally getting the growth spurt that we’ve been waiting for :’D But I don’t really do heavy lifting around the house, so.

Have any scars? Sure.

How did you get them? Any interesting stories? Most of them are scars from childhood falls, because I was the clumsiest kid in the neighborhood and tripped and scraped my legs at least once every time I played outside. There’s a scar on my left eyebrow from an idiot cousin who had been out to make me blind, and then there’s the self-harm scars as well.

if it were possible, would you want to know the day you're going to die? Yes. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to know.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I’m happy with mine. I’m not five anymore.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If it was like sriracha then yeah. Not willing to do anything overly hot, though.

How about 10 bottles of ketchup? I’d be more enticed if you offered mayonnaise, but even then I think such a feat deserves a higher prize than $1000.

10 bottles of maple syrup? Thinking of how thick that is already hurts my throat. Pass.

A bottle of vinegar? HELL no.

10 jars of peanutbutter? HELL yes but again, I’m gonna be asking for more money lol

How many pairs of flip flops do you own? A couple. They’re not my favorite things to wear so I don’t feel the need to collect a lot of them.

Favorite month? April because birthday month; December because even though that’s when my depression strikes the hardest, everyone else is caught up in the holidays and that allows me to guiltlessly cut off contact with people for a few weeks.

Do you always answer your phone? If you mean calls, then no. I do not pick up if it’s an unknown number, but after rejecting I immediately text them asking who they are and what they’re calling for. I just feel like it’s proper etiquette to text before you call, especially if you’re reaching out to me for the first time.

It's four AM and you get a text message, who is it? Gabie for sure. She’s on the graveyard shift, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.

If you could change your eye color what would it be? I’m okay with mine, but if I got reincarnated as a foreigner I’d love to have hazel eyes. They look very pretty.

Do you own a digital camera? Not anymore. My phone camera can take good enough photos.

Do you take lots of pictures of yourself? Hell no.

Do you take them in front of the mirror in the bathroom? Nope.

Have you ever had a pet fish? I had several goldfish as a kid, yes.

Pet hamster? Nope. That’s mostly a Western thing too I think; I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever had a hamster.

Bird? We had lovebirds before; they were so low-maintenance and made for such sweet pets.

Rabbit? Yep. Tobi was a bit of a handful, but I loved him all the same.

Iguana? No.

Favorite Christmas movie? Love Actually and It’s A Wonderful Life.

Favorite Christmas song? Probably It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas. It’s so soothing and yet makes me feel festive and excited for Christmas.

Can you do push ups? I can, doesn’t mean I’m good at holding myself up ha.

Can you do a chin up? I can but I hate those.

Does the future make you nervous or excited? Both.

Ever been in a car accident? Just minor ones.

Do you have an accent? I think everyone does. I’ve honestly never understood this question lol, if I go to a different country or continent, people are always going to have an accent in my ears. Even in my own country, I can think of a number of accents I’ve heard people speak in.

What song always makes you cry? 26 by Paramore.

Have any plans for tonight? Rest my tired head.

What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Talking to Gabie.

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Ugh, Monday.

#survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

mylifeasaserver · 5 years

Text

Change of Pace

Next door to the restaurant I currently (and probably briefly) work at, there’s a nice little spot where I applied before my shift today. I have an interview next week.

A coworker of mine and I sat there for 3 hours before our shift mocking the stupid GM and lamenting leaving our good front of house manager behind, and having a few (see: many) drinks.

I had a lot to drink in those 3 hours. So did she. I’m a seasoned professional though so I swaggered next door to be tormented with stupidity for a shift. She was fairly obviously buzzed but she also has an interview next week at the same place and they straight up told us they don’t give a fuck what we do off the clock and not in their restaurant so...

When I showed up to work I was better than comfortably buzzed and in a great mood.

Then I got my first table. Of course nobody bothered telling me I had a table or that I’d been assigned a section or that we didn’t have a host. So my very first table sat there waiting to be served while the GM gave me a write-up that I signed his name to for walking out last night (I’m certain that he filed it without looking, or he saw that I’d pulled a “NO U” and gave up) and I happily chatted with the lazy fucks I’d walked out on. He did attempt to have a larger discussion with me about the whole situation but I told him [very sarcastically] that it was his restaurant to run so he can do what he pleases. Confused, he returned to his office to destroy a family size bag of oreos or whatever his junk food du jour was.

10 minutes later somebody got the wise idea to let me know I had a table. Fortunately, a bit of apologizing (and a free dessert) convinced the table that it was no big deal. Also fortunately I’d taken a margarita from next door in a kid’s cup and downed it after putting the order in - ensuring my buzz would last just a bit longer. **Author’s note: this is super illegal where I live - I think - but with a close to 50% tip and the knowledge we weren’t driving for a few hours the bartender let me slide with it.**

Meanwhile, we ran out of the stupid bread we give tables because our beloved GM didn’t bother to instruct anybody to make more, probably so he could go fry himself a milkshake or something. I gave zero fucks. I just told my tables that we were out and that was the end of it. I also gave them the number for corporate and the GM’s name and let them know he was personally responsible (which is true, watch me roll shit uphill!)

The rush hits and my drinking buddy starts feeling shitty. She goes and sits down in the break room like I told her to and I just use her card to put in all her orders. I can handle 12 small tables for us, even with my buzz starting to wear off.

Then I get the 8 top. At first, only two of them show up, but of course I need to bring 8 waters to the table so I can dump out 8 waters at the end of the meal. Whatever, I’ve had worse.

I bring the waters and I’m told they’re going to need ketchup, A1, and a shitload of bread and butter. Oh no! We have no bread! I’m so sorry but I can’t give it to you!

Surprisingly, the revelation that we have no bread is at first met with a small, short-lived tantrum, but finally acceptance begins to creep in. I’m beginning to accept that my buzz is going to go away and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Later my drinking buddy is feeling a little better so instead of taking tables she runs the food for me and does the clear/reset combo and I keep using her card to ring in orders. She takes a break as she needs to, and we’re both making great money despite what we’re doing being flagrantly against company policy. I’m never supposed to have another server’s card, but then again, I’m also not supposed to show up buzzed for a shift. Company policy clearly takes itself too seriously. I’m having a great time with our tables and everybody is getting everything they need and quickly.

The rest of the 8 top shows up and I’m waved over. They didn’t need anything, they just wanted me to know they were going to need some time to decide on food - and all of them wanted to order some drinks. ME TOO!

I come back to the table with drinks and they are suddenly in a hurry because they’ve decided to see a movie. The first person at the table orders a mid-well steak. I ask them to clarify - are they in a hurry or do they want a mid-well steak? I can’t do both because of physics.

They actually listen and order other things. My shock is immeasurable.

Their food comes up and both myself and my drinking buddy have our asses run ragged by these needy fuckers. If I didn’t know better I’d swear they were making a game of it, except at the end of the night they’re all still losers. Finally they ask for boxes for what they couldn’t shove down their necks fast enough and ask for the check. $149 check, $6 tip.

Fuck you all.

They finally leave and we dump 8 untouched waters.

I’m cut and so is my friend. The GM briefly attempts to get me to roll the silverware I skipped out on last night but is forced to abort mission when I laugh at him and tell him I can still catch happy hour next door if I left right then.

I still made happy hour, with my drinking buddy in tow.

Honestly showing up after drinking was unintentional. We were gonna just hang out a bit and then we decided to say fuck it and did what we wanted. Also: her tables tipped better tonight but since we teamed up we just averaged it all anyway. -J

#restaurant

17 notes · View notes

shootwinterfest · 7 years

Text

SSS Countdown - Day 16

Gay/Shoot remake of Man Up

Sameen Shaw, took a mini bottle of scotch from the hotel mini bar and plonked herself down in front of the mirror on the vanity chair. She wore her party dress, hair done, full make up on. The petite dark-haired woman stared at herself in the mirror and picked up the Christmas Santa hat and almost put it on her head; instead she threw it in the trashcan.

“Fuck it.” Shaw took a sip of the little bottle of scotch from the hotel mini bar.

Moments later, Shaw walked over and slumped on the double bed, wearing sweatpants, a hoodie and a pair of dog slippers. Her dress hung up in the corner of the room as she munched from a large bag of chips. Now the bottle of scotch was larger.

On the hotel television screen, ‘Silence of The Lambs’ played and Shaw watched transfixed.

Suddenly, a loud knock at the door, startled Shaw, she jumped and went to the door.

On the other side of the door was a Room Service Guy with a trolley of food that Shaw had ordered from room service.

Before the Room Service Guy could speak, Shaw cut him off.

“Right, yes good…right in here,” Shaw moved out the way so her steak and fries could make the grand entrance they deserved.

She had nowhere else to go but the bed, so she sat out of the way of the trolley, at the end of the bed.

Room Service Guy revealed Shaw’s food as a magician revealing an impressive trick - a massive plate of steak and fries as he lifted up the small silver dome to show off the meal. He then smiled, politely as Shaw stuffed her mouth with fries, and then clocked Room Service Guy’s name tag.

“Tell me, Andrew... Andy.” She asked in between shoveling fries into her mouth. “How’s that holiday engagement party going?”

“Uh, pretty well I think.” Andy looked nervous being in Shaw’s room alone with her. Shaw was an intimidating woman while also being mouth dropping gorgeous. “You know there’s food down there, right?” Andy said nervously to Shaw.

“Yeah, I do, I do. I’m just not in the party mood tonight.” Shaw stabbed her steak with the sharp knife then took a massive bite. Her phone started to ring. So she answered it, with a mouthful of steak. “Have you got any ketchup, Andy? Hello.”

Joss, Shaw’s closest friend, on the other end of the phone started off questioning her friend as she usually does. “Who’s Andy?”

“Seems like a nice dude who has just brought me dinner,” Shaw answered while also signing the bill that Andy handed to her.

“You’re not at the party.” There was no point in Joss asking this question, she knew Shaw well enough to know that her friend was getting room service in her room and ditching the party. She also knew steak and fries had been delivered because it was Shaw’s favorite.

“I am not at the party, but I am at a party. Hannibal and Clarice are here, not to mention Andy too…and most importantly steak is here.” Shaw did a motion with her hands around the room for only her benefit.

Andy got a nervous look on his face and eyed the door. His job was done; he really wanted to flee this so called party.

Shaw caught the motion and told Joss. “But he’s just leaving now.”

“Put him on, please.” Joss didn’t ask, she demanded.

Shaw shrugged, she knew better than to argue or fight with Joss sometimes. “Hey, my friend wants to speak to you.” Shaw motioned to Andy before he could make it all the way to the door to escape.

Andy took the phone from Shaw very confused and a little nervous. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m Joss. Now, there’ll be a dress, hanging up somewhere, can you give it to that petite beautiful woman who is stuffing fries in her mouth, please?” Joss did ask Andy in a nice, sweet tone; she didn’t want to scare off the young man completely.

Andy spotted the dress hanging in the open closet cabinet, “Ah, yes, of course.”

Shaw watched Andy go over to her dress, she squinted her eyes. “No, no, no... Andy.”

Andy still had the phone pressed up against his ear as Joss continued to instruct the nervous young man. “Tell her to put the dress back on Andy, please.”

“She wants you to put the dress back on,” Andy handed the dress to Shaw who glared at him. “She said please.” He started to look a little pale, possibly the thought that this stunning woman would actually change clothes in front of him. He would faint like a woman in an eighteenth century novel if that happened.

Outraged, Shaw got up and took the phone from Andy aka Room Service Guy. “Okay, enough.” Shaw sighed loudly. “Andy, do you have a napkin or something?” Shaw had gotten ketchup all over her hands from the fries. Andy quickly handed her a napkin, Shaw wiped off her hands and re-positioned the phone. “Joss, I’ve been ambushed. Some set up, with a guy that Harper works with.”

Joss yelled into her phone loud enough for Andy to hear through Shaw’s phone. “Excellent. This is good!”

Shaw leaned on Andy’s shoulder for her lament, “Come on. It’s just all so <i>organized</i>, and awkward, you know I can’t bear it Joss…”

“Yeah I know, Shaw but...how the hell else are you going to meet someone?”

“Well, I met Andy?” Shaw gave a wink to the very nervous Andy the Room Service Guy.

Andy scared for his life has decided to inch further and further to the exit as smoothly as possible.

“Oh no, he’s off. Put on the Do Not Disturb sign please Andy!” Shaw called after Andy as she door slammed.

“Don’t do it, Andy! Take her with you!” Joss shouted to no avail as Andy had already ditched Shaw’s room.

Shaw flopped down on the bed with the phone still pressed to her ear.

“You’ve gone all the way down there, just put your dress on, go and show your face, stay, like ten minutes,” said Joss in her most encouraging voice.

Shaw interrupted Joss, “The party is themed, Joss. THEMED.”

“Uh, yeah it’s Christmas Shaw. Okay, get your notepad.”

“Who gets married at Christmas? Who gets married at all?” Shaw asked in a harsh tone.

“Hey, some of us like being smug marrieds,” Joss shot back.

Shaw rolled her eyes, then rolled her body over and picked up her notepad.

“I’m too old for this shit. And it doesn’t work on me.”

“You’re 37 not 87! And well, we’ve established you are unique.” Joss paused; her friend was unique not broken. “The best of the best, yet unique,” Joss said in a very loving tone.

Shaw flipped open to a page that used to say ‘MANTRAS’, but Shaw has crossed the ‘MAN’ out so it now says ‘SHAWTRAS’. It was a long list of inspirational sayings, some scratched out and some underlined for dramatic effect. She sat up straight, determined. She took a deep breath. And rolled her eyes again at this stupid exercise.

“Put yourself out there.” Some of these Shawtras were truly painful to say. Why did she need mantras anyway? She liked being single. It’s other people that didn’t like her being single. She was fine with it.

“Good,” Joss said in a voice that truly resembled a proud mother.

“Take chances...” Ugh, that one hurt.

“Okay, now a little less hollow and robotic,” Joss said in a gentle way.

“Joss, you know those are my only two tones,” Shaw grumbled back.

“That’s not true, I always prefer snarky and angry. And that voice that implies you’re close to stabbing someone with any cutlery that is within arm’s reach.”

“You know what? Fine, you win. I’ll go the stupid party for ten minutes. Happy?”

Shaw didn’t give Joss a chance to answer; she hung up the phone and threw it on the other side of the bed.

A few minutes later, the elevator opened with a PING! - ‘doors opening’ and there was Shaw, big game face on, out of her hoodie and in her pretty red dress, the Santa hat gripped in her hand tightly. The Santa hat had seen better days. The red dress had not, no one could wear this red dress better than Shaw. She looked absolutely stunning, despite the grumpy, slightly murderous face. She entered the elevator and headed downstairs.

As the elevator closed behind her, she said more Shawtras to get pumped up – ‘Get stronger thighs’, ‘Even more defined abs’ ‘Be more deviant. If possible.’, ‘Talk more’, ‘Decrease eye rolling’ – wait she thought, Joss added those last two. How did she let Joss talk into this ‘positive’ thinking bullshit?

The elevator doors opened at the lobby and Shaw adjusted her red dress and walked confidently over to the party doors.

Shaw said one more Shawtra before entering the party, ‘Engage with…” She kicked open the door, game face on to find the Christmas themed engagement party in full swing, couples everywhere. “…life.” She felt angry all of sudden, burning in her stomach. “Ugh. Gross.”

Leon, the groom to be dressed up as Santa Claus, immediately caught Shaw and put an elf hat on her head, “Finally! We nearly sent out a search party!”

“Call them off, I’m here Leon,” Shaw said in her most sardonic tone with a side eye to Leon. Santa Claus really?

Leon draped his arm around Shaw, grabbed a candy cane mojito from a passing waiter and handed it to Shaw.

“Here, have a candy cane mojito, the first one is free! I paid for them all with my savings! And now, I have no savings!” There was a look of sadness on Leon’s face.

Shaw reached into her handbag and pulled out a small scotch bottle from the hotel mini bar.

“Happy Engagement. Merry Christmas. Here is literally a small present,” Shaw shoved the tiny bottle of scotch into Leon’s hands.

“I am so touched that you thought of me when you raided the mini bar,” Leon said without missing a beat.

Shaw pulled out a pack of peanuts from her handbag as well and handed them to Leon.

“Oh my god, this is too much,” Leon had a smirk on his face now.

Harper swooped in dressed as Mrs. Santa Claus; she put her arms around both Leon and Shaw. “What’s too much? Tell me, tell me. Shaw, you look amazing.” She looked to her husband to be Leon. “He’s going to love her! Come on,” Harper grabbed Shaw’s hand and pulled her away.

“Whoa, whoa, I just need a moment longer with this candy cane mojito, please…” Shaw tried to drink it while Harper tugged at her arm, thus spilling half of her candy cane mojito along the way.

“He hates Facebook, loves dogs and he’s really quiet. He’s perfect for you,” Harper slurred her words as she leaned too far into Shaw. Too many candy cane mojitos for Harper.

“Who’s really perfect for anybody, really?” Shaw didn’t believe in perfect matches, or really matches period. Except for Joss and John, they were good together. And Fusco and Frankie were fun together. That’s it, she couldn’t think of any other couples that were like meant to be together. Soul mate stuff was utter bullshit stuff Shaw thought.

“We were a set up, and look at us now!” Harper said very happily with Mrs. Santa Claus wig nearly falling off with her wide, broad drunken movements.

Shaw just stared at the two of them bemused. “Leon, it’s like your single years have been totally wiped from your pea brain memory. Hey, remember that girl who cried the whole way through giving you a blow job?” She couldn’t help herself. If she was going to bet set up then Leon was going to pay for it.

A very awkward beat as Shaw realized that it was Harper who cried the whole way through the blow job.

“And look at you now. Christmas themed engagement party. Congats you two,” Shaw said as she drank from her half spilled candy cane mojito.

Harper glared at Leon who gave her an apologetic smile. He soldiered on with Shaw.

“Come on Shaw, give him a chance? When I have led your wrong?” Leon said with his best selling grin, which most of the time didn’t sell anything.

“You really don’t want me to answer that question Leon,” Shaw had a slight murderous glare at her friend.

A party guest not wearing an elf hat knocked into Shaw and spilled her drink onto her hands. As Shaw dried her hands off, she couldn’t stop the anger from boiling up.

“Alright! Bring it on. Another sad, single loser in their mid thirties,” Shaw decreed while still wearing her elf hat.

“I’m actually a sad single loser in my late thirties,” a dark-haired man corrected her as he came to stand in front of her.

Shaw swiveled around to see Matthew, a generic, handsome guy, smiling away at her. Harper laughed a bit too loudly at Matthew’s ‘joke’ and then looked at Shaw – as if to say, come on, laugh! Harper pulled a repentant Leon away and they squabbled as they drunkenly shuffled away; clearly, the Claus’s needed some coffee or a nap.

Shaw and Matthew stared at each other and as they shook hands.

“Matthew Reed. 39.” Matthew said seriously with a slight smirk on his face.

“Sameen Shaw. 37.” Shaw stood there with her trademark blank stare, also known as the GREATEST bitch resting face by her friends.

Shaw realized her hand was a bit wet from the spilled candy cane mojito. “Sorry, my hand is a bit wet. It’s not pee.”

“Right,” Matthew seemed taken a back a little.

“It’s candy cane mojito,” Shaw stated the facts.

“Oh, I didn’t think it was pee,” Matthew said awkwardly.

“I mean, why would it be pee? That would imply very poor personal hygiene. I don’t use my hand. I use toilet paper, just like everybody else,” Shaw again just stated a fact.

“That’s... a relief?” Matthew added again awkwardly, he was a little too posh it seemed to be talking this much about pee.

“And so is a pee.” Shaw liked her pee jokes.

An awkward, zero chemistry pause.

“How about another drink?” Matthew attempted in a cheery, forced voice.

“Why not?” Shaw said in an even faker forced voice. Why she thought, why was she was doing this when she could be watching ‘Silence Of The Lambs’ in her room with steak and fries.

Shaw took a long slurp of her drink; Matthew turned to the bar and started to get his wallet out.

“I’ll get these,” Shaw thought maybe if she paid for the drinks she could make a quicker exit if needed.

“No really, it’s fine,” Matthew replied back.

“Let me,” Shaw pulled out her wallet.

“No, no, seriously…Oh okay, thank you,” Matthew said awkwardly. “Alright, you get them.”

“I’ll just get them, shall I?” Shaw noticed a photograph of a girl in Matthew’s wallet.

“Ah, busted. Still carrying a photo of your ex around in the old wallet,” Shaw smirked at Matthew.

“That’s my sister,” Matthew said with a sad look on his face.

“Oh, well, she’s very pretty. Bet she gets all zee boyz,” she forced a smile to be ‘polite’ as Joss would say in her head.

“She’s dead,” Matthew replied back in a very solemn voice.

Matthew snapped his wallet shut. Awkward silence. Shaw drained her candy cane mojito dry. And then ordered eight more.

**<<>>**

Shaw was on the busy platform the next morning. Feeling rougher than usual. In one hand she carried a bag from the train station cafe, filled with her unique hangover cure and in the other hand a massive coffee. In the background, a poster for a self-help book ‘6 Billion People and You’ but blink and you’d miss it. Shaw’s train arrived and she was so happy to get on her way back into the city and leave mostly coupled up suburbia behind.

Shaw made her way down the aisle, now on the phone to Joss.

“No Joss, I have pictures of Bear in my wallet, and he’s alive and kicking, and I want people to ask me about Bear,” Shaw rolled her eyes.

Off in the city, Joss and her husband John, coming out of their brownstone, carried grocery bags full of chips, dips, and nibbles galore.

“But it’s good that you went,” Joss said while also pointing to John to instruct on where to place the grocery bags in the trunk of the car.

Shaw plonked herself down opposite a random nicely dressed Girl On The Train. She was pretty and tidy. And she was reading a book, so hopefully no polite or not so polite conversation will occur Shaw thought.

“Why, why is it good? It’s just so excruciating and predictable, like it always is. You know what, I’m just going to let my vagina hermetically seal up,” Shaw might have said this part too loud as the Girl On The Train across from her looked up from her book and stared.

“Yeah, well that will really help smartass,” Joss snapped, as she shook her head; John just smiled at his exasperated wife.

“Never hurt Barbie. She’s got a beach buggy, horses, a salon, condo, sports car...all with a hermetically sealed up vagina,” Shaw was quite proud of this discovery, she smiled to herself.

Joss continued to direct John where to put everything in the trunk of the car. “So how much longer until you’re here?” She moved a bag John had put in the wrong place.

John leaned into the phone. “Come on Shaw, hurry up over here. There’s work to be done, we need to split it up. Lots of…nibbles I’m told to…put in a lot of bowls.” John scrunched up his face; he couldn’t believe he just said the word nibbles.

Suddenly, the ‘I’m up to my ass in bowls bowls all types of bowls’ part of ‘Back Home Ballers’ song filled Shaw’s head and she got distracted. She snorted. “Uhhh…about two hours?”

The train announcer’s voice boomed out into the train, “…just a reminder to all passengers that due to weekend engineering work, all trains are making all stops at every stop. No express trains.”

Shaw groaned inwardly and outwardly. “About 7 hours.”

Joss slammed the trunk shut, “What the fuck!”

“I’m joking,” Shaw grinned, she kind of loved when Joss got mad and cursed.

“Well, not funny. I cannot do this all on my own,” Joss said as John sat down to get into the driver’s seat, who looked a little offended at his wife’s dismissal of his assistance.

“I’m here to help, you’re not on your own,” John said sweetly looking over to his stressed wife.

Joss smiled at John warmly, then got cold again into the phone directed at Shaw. “Whatever you do, don’t forget the chocolate mousse, Frankie is obsessed. And have you done your speech yet?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve got a rough…” Before Shaw can finish her sentence, Joss talked again.

“Or have you just done a lot of doodles and crossing out?”

Shaw stared out the window, she often wondered if Joss was psychic. How did she know some of her shit? Or maybe she hacked every electronic device Shaw owned and spied on her all the time, like a secret system that saw everything.

Joss got into the car. “Come on, Shaw, you know Fusco loves you, he wanted you to do a speech. So it needs to be good and special, okay?”

“Mmmmm, fine. Not sure why the big guy needs it from me,” Shaw did love the curly haired stocky guy.

“And Shaw?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t seal up your vagina just yet,” Joss said gently. “It will happen for you.”

“Yeah yeah, fuck off.”

Shaw smirked as she hung up the phone. Joss could be like a mother hen sometimes, wanting to make sure everybody is okay. What Joss didn’t get was that some people were okay alone; some people didn’t need a mate. She started shoving her hangover cure in her mouth, a large Philly cheese steak sandwich. Extra cheese dripped down her hand.

She glanced back at the Girl On The Train, who was still reading a copy of that self-help book ‘6 Billion People and You - A Guide To Meeting Your Mate In The Modern World.’ Shaw looked at the book; she definitely couldn’t help rolling her eyes to herself. Train Girl caught her doing it. Shaw looked down at her notepad, flicked back to her mantras…her Shawtras. She considered them, dismissed them, remembered something, got out a pen and wrote ‘Black Pant Wash’ snapped her notepad shut, looked up to find Train Girl leaning towards her, sympathetically for some strange reason.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” the Train Girl or possibly Book Nerd gestured to the book she was holding. “You should really think about reading this.”

Shaw considered the back of the book now - it read ‘This book will change your life!’. She felt like she has met this type of girl before. Like she had this girl’s number.

“Oh, right, right... did it, then?”

“Did it what?” asked the Train Girl with a confused look on her face.

“Change your life?” Shaw gestured to the tagline of the book.

“Oh...maybe, yes,” the Train Girl said with a big smile.

“Or maybe no?” Shaw shot back verbally.

“Well, I like to give everything a go otherwise, what’s the point? I mean, you’ve got to hope it’s going to work, haven’t you? Because what is life without hope? Death!” Train Girl said a little too earnest for Shaw’s taste.

“Death it is,” Shaw said in her trademark deadpan, then added a sly grin.

“You see! You do need to read it. I would lend it to you but... I need it for my date.” A hopeful glee spread over Train Girl’s face and her entire body.

“Why do you need a book for a date?”

“So we can recognize each other.”

“Oh, is it a set up? Well, they always work,” Shaw said in her snarky tone. The snark level was high with this one.

“They often work. If the match-maker has done their homework,” the Train Girl said rather confidently.

“Yes, yes, because all successful relationships are built on the fact that you’re both the ‘outdoorsy type’ or can agree on what to watch on television after a crap day at work,” Shaw rolled her eyes at the Train Girl.

Train Girl visibly irked, “I really think you should read this,” said in a rather quite loud voice.

“Don’t need to,” Shaw said louder.

“It was an international best-seller,” the Train Girl was in defense mode now.

“So was the Da Vinci Code,” Shaw barked back, she wasn’t a fan of the book for some reason; even more so the movie.

“Also an excellent book!” Train Girl defended another book.

“Not an excellent book,” Shaw corrected the Train Girl.

“I think it’s exactly what you need…” Train Girl continued on in her passionate plea to get Shaw to read the self-help book.

The argument and volume escalated very quickly between the two women.

“Why is everyone always telling me what I need!” Shaw snapped not only to Train Girl but also to everyone in her life.

“Perhaps if everyone is telling you the same thing, you should listen…” Train Girl spoke softer now to Shaw.

“And I think you need to shush, you need to shush your mouth,” Shaw said harshly. She wanted to say shut the fuck up, but decided to be a tad more polite. Train Girl had a nice, sweet face.

“You want me to…shush?” Train Girl looked offended.

“I do, yeah, it would be great,” Shaw took a huge, messy bit of her hangover double meat sandwich, mustard dripping down her hand and her chin.

Train Girl spoke again despite the shush comment. “I’m only suggesting…” she tried to finish her thought but stopped because of Shaw’s scary look at her.

“We’re done here.”

Shaw put her finger to her lips - quiet time now please - and Train Girl, clearly not quite finished with Shaw, went back to her book. Shaw took another bite of her sandwich, she munched a bit aggressively, annoyed with how that all ended. She hoped Train Girl would get off soon so they wouldn’t spend hours across from each other. Shaw feared another intervention might happen and if it did, she was going to take that book and shove up Train Girl’s ass.

**<<>>**

Shaw had fallen asleep, her face all squashed up on one side of the train seat. She woke up to find everyone getting off the train at the last stop.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving at our final destination, Grand Central Station...Please, exit the train,” the voice came over the train speaker system.

Shaw yawned luxuriously awake. She glanced down at her table to see her empty sandwich wrapper and a copy of ‘6 Billion People and You’ sitting in front of her with a post-it note that said ‘READ IT.’

Damn that irritating Train Girl, blabbing for ages about this damn stupid self-help book. Before Shaw had fallen asleep Train Girl mentioned that’s how she was meeting her blind date. The book. She was to meet a blind date at this last stop under the big clock at the train station. There was a napkin with a smiley face drawn on sticking out the top of the book - Shaw, infuriated, flicked to the page it was book-marking. The chapter read, YOUR NEGATIVE THOUGHTS ARE RUINING YOUR LIFE (AND EVERYONE ELSE’S...)’. Shaw slammed the book shut hard and glared around looking for the irritating Train Girl.

Shaw looked up to see Train Girl, waving gaily at her, walking off down the terminal hallway exit. No way. Shaw was definitely not having that. She furiously picked up all her stuff, including the damn book, and charged after annoying Train Girl, who had now picked up her pace. Shaw managed to get off the train and started running after her.

Shaw tried to get through the ticket barriers, to catch up with Train Girl, but her ticket beeped in denial.

Furious and frustrated, she handed it over to the ticket inspector, as he beeped her through and she now continued on running through the busy concourse of Grand Central Station, which looked more lovely than usual with all the holiday decorations. Shaw searched for Train Girl like she was the white rabbit, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Train Girl walked confidently into a newsstand, where a huge display of ‘6 Billion People and You’ books sat in the window and a long queue of people all waiting to pay.

Shaw, still determined not to lose this battle, scanned the crowds for her quarry. In frustration, she flipped the book over - reading the tagline on the back - ‘What are you waiting for?’ Taking it personally she looked up, suddenly furious.

“Damn it, where the fuck are you?!” Shaw yelled out to the crowd.

“Sweetie, I’m right here,” came from a voice behind Shaw, a voice as smooth and soothing as honey or a ray of sunshine on a chilly day. Or even on a non-chilly day. “I’m not that late.”

Shaw spun around to see a tall, attractive brunette woman standing before her with a huge stupid grin on her face; actually the grin was charming as hell.

“Somebody threw themselves on the tracks again. I don’t blame them, so many delays,” the tall, gorgeous woman tilted her head and continued to smile warmly at Shaw. “So nice to finally meet you Hanna, I’m Root.”

Shaw was totally confused - why is this woman, this rather hot woman, holding up a copy of ‘6 Billion People and You’ talking to her? And calling her Hanna? And still grinning stupidly at her. The grin and twinkle in the woman’s eyes were both making her stomach feel weird, like hunger pains maybe. She was pretty sure she just hungry again. She couldn’t stop starring into the woman’s eyes; it was like her eyes were taken hostage.

“Great idea for how we’d know each other,” Root gripped her book of ‘6 Billion People and You’ as she attempted to wink at Shaw. “Although you would have been pretty hard to miss under this clock.” Root then motioned to the massive clock hanging from the ceiling above their heads.

Shaw looked around and wondered what the fuck is going on? She looked back at the book, then up at the massive clock above her head and it all clicked into place. The stupid crazy story the Hanna woman aka Train Girl told her about her blind date. Meeting her blind date under the massive clock while holding a copy of the stupid book. Idiots.

“Oh no, I’m not, this isn’t…” Shaw stared directly into the tall, gorgeous woman’s big, brown, soulful eyes and felt momentarily frozen. What the fuck kind of name is Root? If anything this tall, gorgeous woman looked more like an Amy.

“Should we shake hands or kiss?” Root continued to stare, with a brief glance down to Shaw’s lips, “Oh come on, we’re all adults here.” Root leaned in and kissed Shaw on the cheek, her warm lips pressed firmly against Shaw’s chilly check from the cold December temperatures. A slight electric charge shot through both women. Root pulled away and blushed as she lifted her eyes again to Shaw’s eyes.

It was a quick kiss, but Shaw felt herself swooning. She then scowled at herself; she didn’t swoon. Swooning was not in her nature or DNA. This woman was really hot though and smelled nice, so it wasn’t swooning it was lust pure and simple. Her phone started to ring. ‘JOSS CALLING’ appeared on the lock screen.

“Oh my god, is that your emergency exit phone call already? I’ve barely had a chance to use my good lines yet,” Root leaned in close to Shaw, “That wasn’t one of them.” She grinned at Shaw, who in return continued to look completely baffled by the tall, gorgeous woman.

Suddenly, Root swiped the phone from Shaw’s hand and actually answered the incoming call from Joss.

“Hello there caller. So, I’m not a psychopath, we’ve really hit it off, and she’ll call you later with all the gory details. Playfully witty sign-off.” And with that, Root hung up the call and handed Shaw her phone back with a huge grin.

Root did appear very nervous as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and gripped her book a tad harder. She continued on talking to fill the silence. “Right. Book. Check. Clock. Check. Blind date...check?” Root looked at Shaw with a hopeful and shy look.

Shaw gulped. She looked at the book, then the clock, and then the tall, gorgeous woman called Root.

“So, after I’ve spoken, usually you speak, we exchange ideas for the evening ahead, swap notions of what to get up to,” then Root actually did a Hannibal Lecter impression as she continued rambling on, “’Quid pro quo, Clarice’.” Root got a serious look on her face then smiled again at Shaw.

Shaw was visibly thrown by Root’s Hannibal Lecter impression - who was this woman? Who was this woman tweaking all her verbal nipples? ‘Silence Of The Lambs’ was her favorite movie of all time. It was a movie she usually quoted to people with blank stares back to her in return. She argued vehemently to friends over the years how ‘Silence Of The Lambs’ is actually probably the best movie ever made. And the kind of romance movie she liked.

Root watched Shaw closely, “With hindsight, possibly not the best impression to do on a first date.” Root hugged the book to her chest, and bit her lower lip. “And kinda goes against what I told Joss about me not being a psychopath on your phone.” With the shorter woman still staring at her blankly, she continued on, “Anyway, listen, I’m talking, I’m talking a lot, and I know you can sense it, so I’m just going to keep going with that, and start the bidding with a drink near Manhattan’s scenic Bryant Park? At a pop up bar?” Root decided to hold up her copy of the book for added effect, “So, er...what are you waiting for?”

Shaw looked up at the clock and at all the couples underneath it, meeting and greeting each other. Then looked into Root’s brown eyes that seemed to draw her in and for some reason made her feel warm like a sunbeam hitting her on a chilly day. Was she about to steal someone else’s blind date? Yes, yes she was. She was up for some adventure, even if this woman seemed a bit loony.

“I am waiting for...” Shaw looked down at the book, then back at Root with an adorable confused look on her face, “You?”

“Absolutely,” Root said with a twinkle in her eye and another failed attempt to wink at Shaw.

A totally bemused Shaw let Root lead her away from the clock, the crowds engulfing them as they walked on through the train station. The real Hanna aka Train Girl, rushed up on the other side not seeing Root and Shaw walk away from the clock. She carried a brand new copy of ‘6 Billion People and You’ and stood under the massive clock as she scanned the crowds with an excited look on her face, trying to find her blind date among the hordes of people bustling through the train station.

#shootsecretsanta #sss countdown #root x shaw #shoot fanfic #amysarahromcom

48 notes · View notes

fallen029 · 7 years

Text

Ride or Die

Mirajane Strauss, honestly, didn't know a lot about Laxus Dreyar. Not on a personal level, at least. She knew that his father left the guild, that his grandfather was the Master of it. That his mother was dead and he had no siblings. She knew the Thunder God Tribe loved him. She was smart enough to realize that, on some level, he had to love them back. He was a Dragon Slayer, which she was well aware of, and one of the strongest ones she knew. One of the strongest mages she'd ever met.

Oh, and he had quite the rotten attitude.

But other than all that, she knew next to nothing about the man. For the longest time, at least. Recently, however, in what felt at times like a rather factitious relationship, she'd begun to learn more. She learned that he liked his steak plain and his burgers with tons of ketchup. He preferred her with her bangs down and in her black dress over any other. He shined his boots weekly and smoked at least one cigar every other day. His heavy coat was washed frequently, as to stay clean and nice smelling, while he was for some reason fine with wearing a pair of socks for days at a time. He owned the newest and most expensive lacrimas in his very tasteful and pricy apartment, yet kept the same old headphones that he'd had since he was a boy.

There was, however, one thing that Mirajane hadn't found out about just yet in their relationship that consisted of infrequent dates and her occasionally being allowed to stay over at his apartment.

Laxus, a slayer very much so effected by motion sickness, owned a motorcycle.

She found this out one morning when she awoke rather late after an equally as late night out with said slayer, at some concert of some band that she suffered through because they hadn't been on a date in what felt like a month (three weeks and four days, actually) and she was actually had the night off, for once. Plus, if she didn't, she was fearful that he'd ask one of his other dates and, well, Mira just wasn't risking it.

So it was with a headache from both lack of sleep and drinking that she got up with that day, lazily walking around Laxus' seemingly empty apartment, not looking for him. He always got out of there by six in the morning to go training. Always. It was part of his ritual.

Which, on days she worked, was just as well, seeing as she had to be at the guildhall around the same time, so they'd usually leave together. On days when he knew she wouldn't have to open the bar (she'd traded shifts with Lisanna in preparation for her late night out) however, he usually just mumbled something to her before they went to bed about how she needed to lock up before she left.

Not before taking a shower, of course, and perusing his fridge. He'd never given the go ahead on either of those, of course, but Mirajane did them regardless and, so far, hadn't received a complaint.

It was after she got her shower in and was heading to the kitchen, however, when it happened; someone knocked on Laxus' front door.

For a moment, Mirajane froze. She knew the man didn't have many associates and, of course, he wouldn't be knocking at his own door. The first place her mind went to was that it was another one of the women that Laxus frequently saw and that was just too awkward to deal with.

She'd accidentally forced Laxus into the same position once before, when they were out together and ran into one of the men she occasionally took to functions and, well, needless to say no one involved was very comfortable. Mirajane especially. Laxus made a big deal about it, after the guy was gone, about how she forced the introduction between the two men and that she'd enjoyed it (which she definitely hadn't), and she wouldn't have been surprised if he was getting her back for that.

Which is why Mirajane decided, at first, not to open the door. That only lasted about a minute as, after one more knock, the handle shook a bit before a key was shoved in the lock and turned.

Mira was completely embarrassed then. If he was giving another woman a key, clearly she belonged there far more than Mirajane did. She was busy mustering up some maturity for the situation when, suddenly, the door opened and it wasn't a woman at all.

Rather, it was just Freed.

"Oh. Mirajane." He hardly seemed shocked to see her as he strolled into the apartment. "I suppose Laxus is out?"

"Uh, yeah, he's training," she said as she stood there awkwardly, rubbing at her arm as she stood in the middle of the living room. "Did you...need something? Or-"

"Just dropping these off." He held up a keyring with only two keys on it. "For Laxus."

"What is it to?" Mira asked, slightly curious as the man came over to set it on the coffee table. "Freed?"

"Hmmm?" The rune mage glanced up at her before shaking his head a bit. "Oh, nothing special. Just Laxus' motorcycle."

Mirajane blinked. "Laxus' what?"

"Motorcycle." Freed cocked his head at her. "Have you not seen it?"

"N-No. What were you doing with it?" Curious, Mirajane came to stare down at the key.

"Well, someone has to start it, occasionally," the man explained. "Drive it around."

"But if it belongs to Laxus-"

"He bought it, I think, more for the image than for anything else, honestly. It makes him more than a tad nauseous to ride it." Freed shrugged a bit. "He'll only take it out when he's in the mood, so it's my job to keep up the maintenance and such on it. I-"

"Can you… Do you think you could show it to me?"

"W-Well, I'm really only supposed to drive it around town for a night and then bring it back-"

"I just wanna see it, Freed. Please?" Mirajane wasn't sure why this little tidbit of Laxus' life was so intriguing to her, but it definitely was. She'd tried very hard the past few months not to pry too hard into his life (she'd even managed not to go through all of his drawers in his bedroom when he wasn't around; note all), but something about finding out he owned a motorcycle just excited her. "Just a quick peek?"

And she used that dumbed down tone that, shockingly, made Freed cough just a bit and look off. She'd thought that such a thing wouldn't work on the man, but whatever worked.

He led her down to the basement area of Laxus' apartment building, which mostly housed SE-plug vehicles, but also a few fuel based ones for non-mages. That's what Laxus' motorcycle seemed to run on fuel as well as, when Freed led Mirajane over to it, she saw no plug.

"Wow," she remarked, reaching out to gently ghost a hand over the dark black tank cover of the motorcycle with a blue dragon etched into it. "This looks really-"

"Please." Freed reached out to grab her hand. "No smudges. I just wiped it down before I came up to the apartment."

Giving him a slight grin there, in the dark and mostly empty underground garage, Mirajane said, "If Laxus never rides it, then-"

"He comes down here sometimes," Freed said as he let go of her hand to toss his own in the air. "You know, to show it off to dates and such."

"Yeah." Mira nodded. Dates. Other than her. "Sure."

Continuing right along, Freed said simply, "I would let you...ride it, I suppose, but it's not mine to-"

"Oh, no. I get it. Really. I just wanted to look. Honest. I… You know. I have one too."

Freed blinked. Then he frowned. "You have one too what?"

"You know. A motorcycle."

"R-Really?"

Bemused, the woman said, "Of course. I mean, it's not as nice as this. And it sort of doesn't run… I had a boyfriend, once, that had one and he left it in the shed in my backyard. He was going to fix it up or something and then we broke up and he never came back for it. I've always thought about just selling it for parts, but then I also like the idea of rebuilding it and...I dunno. Maybe one day. For either. But… You were really busy, weren't you?" Mirajane giggled then and Freed coughed into his hand again.

"Yes, well, I did have other things to do today, sure," the man agreed. "But-"

"Then you can get to it." Mira even giggled again. "I have to get down to the hall anyways. Thanks, Freed."

He even bowed his head at her. "Of course."

Mirajane didn't see Laxus again for a few days after that. He didn't come up to the hall and she didn't call on him. It wasn't until she had the afternoon off about a week later and she was out to lunch with Lisanna when they accidentally stumbled upon him.

He was walking into the restaurant and spotted where they were sitting almost immediately and headed right over.

"You sure have been in town for awhile, Laxus," Lisanna commented as Mirajane coerced him into sitting down with them. "Aren't you leaving again?"

"I've been a bit busy," he remarked simply. "Gramps, for some reason, decided to buy a whole new set of furniture, so I've been busy moving his old furniture out and the new furniture in and now he wants a new bedroom set too, which I don't get, because he's, like, so old and won't really get any use out of it-"

"Laxus," Mira complained as Lisanna only giggled. Still, the man sat there, on the same side of the booth as Mirajane, void as ever.

"Like I said," he told the grinning Lisanna. "I've had a lot going on."

"I just posted some new S-Class jobs for Mirajane," the youngest Strauss kept up. "There was this one about these, like, ghosts that are haunting this entire town and it looks really cool. I'd snatch it up, if I were you, before someone else does. Or, ooh, sis, maybe you could take it and you and I could go on it and-"

"I actually want to spend some time doing something else," Mirajane offered up as Laxus looked around for a waitress to take his order. "And it's kinda funny that you showed up, Lax, because it sorta has to do with you."

"Oh yeah?" He finally caught a waitress attention and she only waved at him, as if to say it'd be a moment, before walking off to the kitchen. It was for the best, honestly, as he was in the middle of listening to Mirajane. Glancing then down at the woman, he asked, "What is it? You wanna go somewhere or somethin'? I was thinkin' about heading up to this cabin I go to sometimes and taking someone with me. If you-"

"No," she cut him off. Then, frowning, she said, "I mean, yes, to that, but that's not what I mean."

"Then what?"

"Well," Mirajane began, reaching out to her glass of soda and playing with the straw just a bit, as if bashful. Lisanna was staring just as curiously at her.

"What is it? Sis?"

Glancing up at Laxus, she said, "Freed came over to your apartment as I was leaving the other day and had the...keys to your motorcycle and he took me down to see it when I asked and… Are you honestly into motorcycles?"

Laxus blinked. Then he frowned. "Why did he show you-"

"Are you?" Mira kept up. "Or do you just own one? Because Freed made it seem like he's the one that deals with it and-"

"It's my bike," the man grumbled. "Of course I...can...tune it up...err whatever you call it. I'm very mechanically inclined, Mirajane."

Which he wasn't. At all. And he didn't really know why he was telling her that other than the same reason that he bought the motorcycle in the first place; image. Pure and simple.

"Oh, great!" And she bounced, just a bit, clapping her hands. "Then you can help me."

"Help you?" Laxus frowned. "Help you with what?"

"Well, I have a bike too," Mirajane said, sitting up straight as she stared up at him. "Or, well, one of my boyfriends did, but he, like, left the bike at my house all the way back before we even got trapped in Tenrou, so I'm pretty sure he's not coming back. I've been trying to fix it up forever, but I can't get it running and then, while we were gone, it rusted and stuff and… And it's been so hard! I don't know what else to do with it. I've been thinking about selling it for parts-"

"You should," Lisanna remarked as she went back to her plate of food. "Seriously, Laxus, it's just a piece of junk. It-"

"To us," Mirajane agreed. "But to Laxus, who clearly knows about motorcycles and all their intricacies, I bet it'd be a snap! Right, Laxus?"

Shit. Was this why they always said you weren't supposed to lie to people? Shit. Laxus didn't know what to say. How to save himself. Only muttered something to Mirajane about how he'd come over in a few days to check it out and see if anything could be done for the bike.

"That'll be great, Lax!" Mirajane kissed his cheek. "I have a toolbox full of wrenches and screwdrivers and a bunch of other stuff I don't really know how to use. Oh, and I own a hammer."

"Mira," Lisanna chided. "Laxus just said he's into mechanical stuff. I'm sure he has his own toolbox full of wrenches and has his own hammer."

Trying hard not to bang his head on the table, Laxus told them both, "I really don't think I'll be needing a hammer, guys."

"Really?" Mirajane giggled. "I bet you have the best hammer ever. Thor's hammer."

That time, he groaned. "We're not Norse, Mirajane. I'm Raijin! Not Thor. Use your head."

"Before you hammer us?" Lisanna added and then they were basically just making fun of him and, well, hell, he didn't have to stand for that. Or sit for it. So, without even ordering anything, he took off.

The jerks.

Besides, Laxus had something more important to deal with than the giggling Strauss sisters. Namely, he had to figure out how to get out of fixing up Mirajane's bike.

Oh, and he had to beat the heck outta Freed for causing the problem to begin with.

"Perhaps," Freed suggested later that day as he sat on Laxus' couch after the man berated him for, at least, ten minutes, "you should just tell Mirajane that you do not understand how to fix her motorcycle and-"

"And what, Freed? Look like a chump? A poser?"

"Many people drive cars, Laxus, and yet do not understand how to chance their own oil."

"Wh- Are you stoned? What are you-"

"It doesn't make them posers," he pointed out. "Just tell her the truth; you do not really enjoy the mechanical aspect of the bike. Rather, you think that you look cool on it."

"I don't think that." Laxus was stalking back and forth in front of the couch. "I do. I look great on it!"

"I agree."

Ugh.

"There's only one real option in all of this," Laxus decided as he came to a stop in front of the rune mage.

"And that is?" he prompted.

"I have to take a crash course in anything and everything relating to motorcycles. I'll need...books. On that kinda shit." Nodding at Freed, Laxus said, "What are you still doin' here? Get me books! Tons of books! On anything and everything mechanical. Oh, and buy me a toolbox."

"A-A toolbox, Laxus?"

"Yeah. Full of whatever kinda shit I need to...to… At the very least, pretend like I know what I'm doing."

Freed only sighed before getting to his feet. "Of course, Laxus."

And then all was left was for Laxus to learn. He was quick at that. Learning. Hell, he was the most powerful mage in all of Fiore, if not Earth Land (or at the very least in his own mind). He could do anything he gave his all too.

Which is what he kept repeating to himself one afternoon as Mirajane Strauss led him through the back gate of her yard and over to a rundown wooden shed back there. There were two big double doors on it, locked shut with a thick metal chain, a single lock danging from it.

"Keepin' somethin' nefarious out here, woman?" he asked as she summoned a key magically before unlocking the shed.

"Just this bike," she said. "I'm really proud of it."

"Yeah," he remarked as the chains just disappeared into oblivion, seemingly, when Mirajane keyed into the lock, "well, if it's not even runnin'-"

"I just love him is all." Then she frowned, but didn't glance back at him. "It. I love the bike."

And Laxus drew nothing from that because he honestly wasn't paying attention. And, besides, he would have assumed if Mirajane was keeping a piece of junk out in a shed that some ex never came back for all those years later, that there was definitely some sort of baggage there.

He didn't have time for that mess though. At the moment, he had to focus in on one thing and one thing only; fixing Mirajane's motorcycle.

It wasn't anything special, he found, when Mira opened the old wooden doors and revealed the bike. It was old and ugly and clearly was just a standard bike. Nothing special. Nothing expensive. Nothing worth fixing.

He was just getting ready to tell this to Mirajane when she took the heavy toolbox he had dangling from one hand and went to set it on one of the tables in the corner of the shed.

"So what do you need?" she asked, going to flip on the single, dangling bulb in the shed. "From me? I've messed around with it a lot. Could show you what I think is-"

"It's probably best if I just look at it on my own," he told her with a sigh. "Fresh eyes and all."

"Oh, of course." Mirajane clapped her hands together. "I'll go make you something for lunch, okay? Just call me if you need me."

"I think I'll just be out here for a bit," he sighed as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before running off. "So just leave me to it, huh? I'll...I'll work on this." When she was gone, leaving him alone in the shed, he added, "And try not to look like a complete idiot while I'm at it."

That was what Laxus did for four straight afternoons. Try hard not to look completely and utterly stupid. He took things off the bike, flipped through the books he brought with him (and hid from Mirajane), tried anything and everything to get the dang thing working. Even spent his own jewels on different parts that he thought might be what the bike needed, but just couldn't figure it all out.

Not that Mirajane minded. She seemed thrilled that Laxus was taking such an interest in helping her out and, even on days when she had work, would always stop by the house to bring him food while he was working on it. Kept a supply of beers in her fridge just for him.

Even on days when Laxus didn't go over there, all he thought about was that motorcycle and just what could be wrong with it. What he was missing. What he'd (possibly) messed up. It was the most important thing in his life at that moment.

By the third week of going over there, at least, every other day, Laxus realized he was becoming obsessive. Which was his inclination with most things. It's what helped him become the great mage he was. If he wanted to learn a spell, he'd spend day and night practicing it into perfection. He wanted a guildhall of his very own, then hell, he'd spend days plotting and planning behind his grandfather's back just how to get it.

Now he wanted to prove that he wasn't just some loser trying to pretend like he was hardcore. Laxus wanted them all to know just how hardcore he was. So hardcore, in fact, that he actually learned a craft such as mechanical know how and studied hard to become quite proficient at it.

And yes. That was a hardcore thing to do. So don't question him about it!

Laxus frequently had run ins with Lisanna while he was there, at which times he'd try and show off his (unreal) prowess and have her help him out in...really...doing...nothing. But she didn't know that. She honestly thought that she was helping. And she was totally impressed with him for the most part while he was mostly just glad she was nearly as gullible as her sister.

Elfman was also someone that Laxus saw a lot of. And, as with all of the men that Mirajane...saw, Elfman tried his hardest to be neutral around him, but it wasn't easy. Laxus and he, obviously, had some amount of history together, being from the same guild. And knowing that that guy was...with Mirajane made him wanna gag. A lot.

Then there was the fact that Laxus was very close to Evergreen who Elfman tried to be very close to as well and.. It was just complicated, alright? And the man didn't make it any easier, walking around in skintight undershirts and jeans, complaining about the heat as Mirajane sat around and made him food and served him beers which, considering her job description, wasn't too odd, but in their own house? As Laxus sat at their kitchen table? And worked out in their shed? And then took a shower in their bathroom? Only to go out and do heaven knows what with other women?

It was madness! And unmanly!

"Now, Elf," Lisanna trounced on more than one occasion when he expressed these feelings. "We all put up with your weird dates."

"I don't have weird dates."

"You have Evergreen over. Multiple times."

"Ever's not-"

"And I don't know anyone weirder than her."

"You-"

"And besides, if Mirajane's not bothered by any of it, why should you?" Then Lisanna grinned. "And think about it; what's more manly than restoring an old motorcycle?"

Absolutely nothing.

Which, actually, is why when Mirajane broke up with that jerk all those years ago, Elfman bought the bike off him. Mirajane was rather torn up about the breakup and, one day when the guy came to the door, wanting to roll off with it (it didn't run back then either), Elfman didn't go get his sister from her room. Just forked over all the jewels he had, shook hands with the man (even though he wanted to strangle him) and then pretended to Mirajane like it never happened.

Then came the manly part! Elfman worked on the bike for a long time. Honest. He just never quite got it to run, was all. Mira either.

It was getting to the point that Elfman just wanted his jewels back, or at least some of them, and was willing to sell the thing to anyone. Now that Laxus was sticking around, messing with it, however, Mirajane seemed to be further from that idea than ever.

So Elfman bit his tongue, as he did with most things when it came to his sisters, and put up with Laxus and his annoying persona. Even offered to help out on the bike once or twice which, if Mira was around, got a no thanks from the slayer and, if she wasn't, a growl of he had his chance; now it was Laxus' turn.

Which it was for over a month. Laxus seemed to be milking his turn, in fact, it was taking so long. Even Lisanna started to question his knowledge on motorcycles, but Laxus just shut down concerns with his claim that the bike was pretty messed up.

And it was.

From his tinkering.

Heh.

He took jobs still, of course, in between working on the bike. Went out. Did other things. He and Mirajane even went out a few times together, rather than just spending time with one another in her musty old shed.

They did a lot of that as well though. When he finally started letting her into the shed to help him out some, she seemed thrilled. She'd sit atop one of the tables out there, rattling on about random garbage. He learned about how, when she became S-Class, the first thing she did was save for the house. And how the shed had had most of the junk he saw in it then in there when they moved in and she'd never actually gotten around to clearing it out. He learned about how Lisanna was seeing some guy that Mirajane didn't know and wasn't sure about. How Kinana had been slacking, just a bit, at work, and Mira wasn't certain if she should mention it to her.

He even, one day as he was staring down at what he thought was, maybe, the engine, met Mira's stray dog who was very aggressive towards the man and about got a ball full of lightning for it. Stupid mutt. Mira, of course, was the one to save him and just told Laxus that he was more than a tad possessive over her.

"Yeah, well, if he comes at me-"

"He won't." And Mira had a strong hold on the scruff of fur around the dog's neck. "Promise."

Mirajane never questioned Laxus either about just how much time he was wasting in the shed every other day he wasn't out on a job. Not even at the two and a half month mark. In the back of her mind, fine, she did find it a bit odd that it was taking him so long to get the bike working if he really knew what he was doing (which at times she was beginning to doubt), but at the same time…

She kinda liked having Laxus over constantly. She hadn't had a real boyfriend in quite some time and sorta missed waking up with someone and making them meals rather than just meeting up somewhere. She liked watching Laxus work on the bike and loved the idea of someone who cared about her being around to listen (or at least pretend to) to all of her complaints and comments.

And yeah, she knew that it wasn't really a relationship. Not really. She and Laxus were friends, honestly, that occasionally went home together, but other than that, nothing more. Yeah, he was helping her out with her bike, but at the same time, he was no doubt seeing other women and wasn't at all committed to her.

So why did she feel so good when he spent hours over at her place, tinkering in the shed?

Laxus, for his part, was slowly beginning to lose his interest in the bike. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that not only did Mirajane have no faith in his ability to ever fix the motorcycle, but also that he truly just wasn't going to. He'd taken off parts and then taken them apart with no idea how to get them put back together, he'd lost nuts and bolts and was just completely out of his league.

Maybe if Mirajane had asked him to fix, like, a malfunctioning movie lacrima or something, he'd have been able to pull it off. But a vehicle? Oh, no. It just wasn't going to happen.

But...Laxus had slowly learned to enjoy the time that he was spending over at the Strauss household. Was even able to hold a conversation with Elfman. Given it was about Evergreen's upcoming birthday and just an insurance neither was getting her the same thing, but still, a conversation all the same.

And Lisanna was great. Laxus enjoyed her spending time with him out in the shed more and more as time went on. She enjoyed his rather dry sense of humor and talked his head off nonstop about this guy that she'd met (stories in which he'd hear a very different take from Mirajane later). He felt as if he and her were becoming...friends of sort.

Then, of course, getting to be around Mirajane more often was also a plus. She was working, a lot, when he was over messing with the motorcycle, but when she'd get home, it would always either be with him food or with the intention of making him something.

Oh, and sex. Lots of sex. She seemed really appreciative towards him or something. Either that or just deprived.

Rather moot, really.

Still though, it was getting to the point of ridiculousness that Laxus could honestly still be doing anything at all to the bike and, well, even though he was enjoying himself on the personal level, it was beginning to get horribly tedious, constantly forcing himself to pretend to be tinkering.

Not to mention unfair to Mirajane. In his mind, the reason that she was so in love with the idea of the motorcycle getting fixed up (and by proxy him being there) was rather simple.

She'd more or less spilled it to him late one night as she brought him some dinner.

"I was about to leave," he told her as he sat on one of the stools in the shed, balancing the plate of sandwiches in his lap. Lifting half of one up to his mouth with oil stained fingers, he added, "Have something to do tonight."

"Oh." Mira knew what that meant, but didn't move from where she'd taken to sitting up on one of the wooden tables across the shed. She only kicked her feet a bit before saying, "Well, you are here rather late tonight."

"Lisanna was in here bothering me all day."

"Is that where she was?" Mira frowned a bit. "She was supposed to be up at work. She-"

"We lost track of time."

"Mmmm."

"She's not much help," he said around the ham and bread, "but don't' tell her that."

There was something off with Mirajane that night. Laxus could tell that, even as he sat there, eating. Her whole demeanor was down as she glanced around at the parts strewn across the shed. With a soft sigh, she spoke.

"He really loved his bike, you know," she told Laxus and, realizing who she was talking about, he focused in on his food. "A lot. I used to help him work on it. I don't think he was any better at getting it all together than you or I have been."

"Apparently not," Laxus mumbled under his breath.

"He didn't have a lot of jewels though." Then, with a bit of a grin, she said, "He didn't really have a job. He just picked up work where it found him. He was, you know, pretty unreliable about showing up and all."

"Lazy."

"Not lazy." That got him a look. "Just...different."

Grunt. "Lazy."

"Oh, shut up, Laxus." Huffing, she went on. "He just had so many dreams. Like with his bike. He was going to fix it up and ride around Fiore and- And I was going to go with him. It was before, you know, Lisanna came back, so I didn't know about...leaving Elf, but it sounded like lots of fun. And he thought that my guitar playing was really good. I used to play to him as he fell asleep and… I dunno. I just liked the idea. The dream. Of me and him traveling around and I would play at bars and I just..."

It was silent then, out there in that shed, an Laxus wasn't so hungry anymore. Mirajane was looking off, away from him, and only took deep breath.

"I was stupid," she told him. "To think that. I was completely interchangeable in his plans, if not a complete hindrance. I mean, he loved his bike and didn't even come back for it. And me-"

'I'm sure he loved you plenty, Mira."

"No, he didn't." She swung her feet gently. "I loved him though. And… I'm sorry, Laxus, for making you work on this stupid, worthless bike for so long. I guess I thought… I dunno. That if it started working again that… It's dumb. I'm so stupid. He's never coming back and, you know, it's probably what they say, right? That the longer something's gone, the more you want it? He was a jerk. He cheated on me, you know. A lot. And we were only together for about a year. And he hated that I worked up at Fairy Tail as a barmaid and he was really mean to Elfman, I think and I'm just such an idiot, aren't I? I- Laxus-"

He'd set his plate down, on one of the many tables, before heading over to where she was seated. Staring hard down at her, he said simply, "I'll fix up your bike, Mirajane. Honest. And you're not an idiot. Alright?"

"But I am. I- Mmmm."

Leaning down, Laxus had pressed a deep kiss to her lips, only pulling away when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I thought," she mumbled as he started on her neck, "that you had a date?"

Against her flesh, he breathed, "I never said that."

But only by a technicality.

"It was implied."

"Only if you feel like implying it."

"You-"

"Just shut up." He went back to kissing her neck. "Mira. Let's go up to the bedroom, huh?"

Mira sighed as she pushed him off to get up. "Only if you're quiet. I think Elf's home."

"I'm always quiet, babe."

Laxus was reinvigorated to the idea then, of fixing up Mirajane's motorcycle and tried his hardest to be more serious about it. She, however, was becoming more and more hung up on the idea of Laxus being around as much as possible and, because of that, felt a stronger and stronger urge to shove him away.

They were both dealing with their own internal issues one day as he openly consulted a book in front of her about carburetors and she sat around, watching and listening to the lacrima playing that godawful rock music he was so in love with, when Mira got to absently talking about this or that and somehow arrived at a topic that, over the course of their (semi) relationship they'd managed to avoid.

"Laxus?"

"What?"

He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, even though he hated them (cigars were his thing), but Mira had found a pack lying around in the house and thought they might belong to Lisanna's boyfriend (who she was, apparently, sneaking in and out of the house). Regardless, neither she nor Elfman smoked and Lisanna wouldn't cop to them, so she sorta just gave them to Laxus and, well, he thought it went with his mechanic persona, so he took them.

Mirajane thought he looked cute with it dangling from his lips.

"Are you...staying for dinner?"

"I dunno." He went back to the book, absently flipping a page. "I'mma train at some point today. Probably gonna take a job in the next two."

"Oh." She still only stared over at him. "Have you…"

"Have I what?"

"Uh… What job are you taking?"

"Don't know yet."

"Oh."

"Mirajane, is there something you wanna ask me?" He glanced over at her. "Or something?"

"Well...sort of."

"What is it?" Done with the book, he went over to his toolbox, glanced through it before retrieving what he wanted. "Huh?"

"Just… How often do you have sex with other people?"

Laxus paused on his way over to the motorcycle before slowly continuing on. Getting on his knees beside it to look at something or other, he said, "The hell kinda question is that?"

"I just want to know. I'm not, like, trying to sound-"

"What difference does it make? We're not-"

"I know."

"Then-"

"I just want to know, Laxus."

"Well...I dunno. Pretty often, I guess. Whenever I feel like it." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean… Mira-"

"I just-"

"Like once a week. Or twice. Or something. It depends on what else I have going on."

"Oh."

"So-"

"How...often do you go on dates? Or-"

"Mira-"

"I'm just curious. I-"

"Like every few weeks or-"

"How does that work, Laxus?"

"How do you think it works?" That got her a glance back. "You're fucking lucky. You think everyone gets dinners and plays and walks through the park first? You're high class, woman."

Blushing a bit, she lowered her head before saying, "You're really a jerk."

"But not to you." He went back to what he was doing. "And isn't that all that matters?"

"I don't… I've really liked having you around so much, Laxus."

"Oh yeah?" He puffed some smoke.

"Yeah." Nodding just a bit, Mirajane whispered, "And...I don't want to do this anymore."

That got him to truly stare back at her. Frowning, he moved to get back to his feet. "Do what? Mira-"

"I mean, I do want to do this. But with someone that's serious. Someone that's committed to me and that's here every day and that I don't have to check with before we make plans because he might be going out with another woman and I just… I want a boyfriend, Laxus. This was fun, it was great, actually, but it wasn't something that, like, was going to go on forever. And thank you for all that you did with my...motorcycle and I'm not, like, mad at you and I know you're not at me, so let's just do whatever we need to so that we can go back to normal and-"

"You want a boyfriend?" He let the cigarette fall from his mouth and onto the concrete floor, smushing it under the heel of his boot. "Huh?"

"Laxus, it's not-"

"Is that what you want?" And his fingers were stained black with something as he approached her, coming to cup her cheeks in his hands, leaving smudges of the stuff behind. Mira only stared up at him with a slight grin as she nodded.

"This was nice," she agreed softly as he kissed her head. "But eventually you have to grow up."

"There ain't nothin' more grown than being able to have sex with someone and be upfront with them that you're sleeping with other people too and they don't care."

"Yeah, Lax, there is," she whispered as he moved to tug at her shirt. Whenever she was 'helping' him out in the shed, she always wore this stupid, old ragged shirt, but made up for it with the jeans she wore that were so tight that Laxus could hardly concentrate on anything other than her ass when she bent over to get him a tool. "It's called mahogany."

"Mmmm," he groaned against her forehead. "I think you mean monogamy."

"Whatever," she giggled as he pulled her shirt at. "Laxus."

"I'm grown," he told her simply as his hands drifted down her belly and to the front of her jeans. "With or without it."

"But I'm not."

"Is this one of those stupid women things where one of your friends is pregnant or getting married or something stupid like that so you start taking stock of your own life and realize you deserve more?" His dark eyes stared down into hers. "Or something?"

"Or something," Mirajane moaned, wiggling around as he pulled her jeans down. Knowing Elfman was on a job and Lisanna was putting in a shift at the bar (or ditching out on it with mystery boyfriend), she didn't even attempt to fight him on the location. "Lax."

And when it was all said and done and he got those smudges on nearly all of her pale flesh and he was busy pulling back up his jeans, nothing was so funny anymore.

Just rather depressing.

"I'm not good at that shit," he told her simply as Mirajane slowly gathered up her clothing. "Being with one woman."

"I know," she whispered. "I suck at it too."

Looking back over at the motorcycle, he let out a slow breath before saying, "It's just not something I ever thought I'd be into."

"I figured."

"But…I never thought I'd spend months pretending to work on a motorcycle just to keep up an image with a woman that really doesn't care one way or another, much less continue doing it just to keep her from feeling like shit."

"Laxus?"

He only let out a loud groan, standing there in the shed, as he reached up to roughly run both hands through his already messy blond locks. "You can't just do this to someone, Mirajane. Pull the rug out from under them like this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Huffing, he took to looking at her once more before saying, "I don't know how good I'll be at it. You know, just...being with one person. The last time I seriously tried that I was, like, nineteen, so-"

"What are you saying?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the man said, "What do you think? I want to be your boyfriend." Then he frowned. "Assuming you'll have me, I guess. Because if not, then this never happened."

"Laxus, are you serious?"

"I wanna be." He gave her the best grin he could muster. "You've been my number one for awhile now. Months. I mean, if it had to be someone, I'd choose you. I...I really do care a lot about you, Mirajane. I don't know if it'll transfer well into a real relationship or not, but if you wanna give it a go, then fine. So do I."

When she went to hug him, only having succeeded in pulling up her panties, Mirajane giggled a bit into his chest. Breathing against him, she said, "You really should think about this more than just a minute."

Oh, he would. He'd think about it a lot.

Truth be told, he'd actually already thought about it a lot. Just not in the sense that it would ever occur anywhere outside of his own head.

"I will," he told her softly. "But for now, I think I'm kinda into it. I've liked you cooking me dinners and washing my clothes when I leave them over here-"

"That last one is just you being a little butt and leaving your stuff in my bedroom."

"With," he added, "the intention of you washing it."

"I did it once out of courtesy and you-"

"Because I enjoyed it so much, yes, I furthered it."

Ugh.

There was a moment or two of peace in which Mirajane went to finish getting dressed once more while Laxus found that pack of smokes and lit up once more. Then he glanced back at the motorcycle before back at Mirajane.

Taking a deep breath, he decided if she could admit something, then so could he.

"Uh...you know, now that we're being all honest and shit-"

"I know you can't fix the motorcycle, Laxus. I mean, come on. You haven't even been able to put everything back into the frame in-"

"I think I'm missing a spark plug." Then he frowned. "I also am not sure what a spark plug is, so-"

"It's just," she whispered softly, "a stupid motorcycle anyways. If anything, you're more put out than me. You've bought all these parts that- Why did you buy parts again if you never knew what was-"

"To keep up the rouse, Mirajane."

Grinning slightly, she said, "You are into me, aren't you?"

Grunt. Then, "I'd say that I'd get someone to look into fixin' it up for you, but at this point-"

"Yeah, I know. It's just scraps."

Nodding, he added, "It'd cost more to ever get it put back together than-"

"It's fine. I just...I really loved that bike."

Laxus gave her his own, soft grin, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Yeah, Mirajane. I know."

She stared at all of it, the motorcycle itself as well as the surrounding parts, before whispering, "It was stupid anyways. I-"

"I'mma buy you a bike."

"W-What? Laxus-"

"I am." And he had his determined face on so she knew he meant business. "I mean, I'm going to give you some jewels, huh? For one? Then you sell what you can of this one and use it to buy you an actually working one. You deserve it."

"You don't have to do that. You-"

"Yes, I do." Staring over at her, he said, "Because I want to. And I always do what I want, Mirajane."

It was just a given fact.

Things weren't, in any regards, set from there. At all. And wouldn't be for awhile. They seemed to be just in a tentative truce in which neither messed with a person of the opposite sex until they figured out just what their new relationship meant and how it was going to all work out.

Then, as promised, Laxus left on a job.

Which was probably for the best. You know, get the big test out of the way first. Laxus usually did all his sleeping around when he was out of Magnolia. And it was with a rather queasy feeling that both he and Mirajane said goodbye, but neither commented on it.

Whatever happened, after all, happened.

It wasn't like Mirajane wasn't busy in Laxus' absent either. Like when she found out that Lisanna's boyfriend was very much so someone she knew and also someone she very much so didn't want her younger sister involved with.

Namely, Bickslow.

That, however, as well as the selling of the bike (for an extremely low price to some guy who just basically took all of the junk Laxus had made out of it off her hands) was all taken care of when Laxus arrived back two weeks later.

Or, at the very least, she'd sort of gotten passed the first one by the idea that her and Laxus could double with Lisanna and Bickslow.

Maybe. If she could stop from gagging over the fact that her sister and the seith had totally ruined the couples she'd made up in her mind for both of them for very different people.

Laxus seemed rather happy to see her, which Mirajane chalked up as a good thing. She first greeted him up at the bar as she was working a shift and he claimed to be tired after his job and planning to head home.

"You could come see me," he enticed. "After work."

Shaking her head, she only said, "I get off at seven. It's only, what? Noon now? You should meet me out in the shed around eight, huh? At my house? Surely you'll have enough rest by then."

He only nodded his head. "Surely."

And he was, actually, more than rejuvenated when eight rolled around. He'd spent the previous hour showering and trimming up the beard he was trying to grow and was more than ready to see the woman. He was thinking that they'd go out to get a nice dinner and then, hopefully, wind up back at his place.

Or just skip dinner.

Pick something up on the way.

Maybe even have her just make him a sandwich back at his place later.

"Mirajane," he called out as he came into her backyard, nearly tripping over the rubber hose and attached sprinkler in the dark. He was mostly concerned about her demonic stray dog lurking around in the darkness. "Are you in the shed, babe? Because I really don't wanna look at that damn bike again. Ever. Bleh. Let's just skip that, huh?"

He could see from the opened wooden doors that the light was on out in the shed and, heading over, he found the woman there.

Also, he found that the old bike he'd been working (messing around) on was gone, along with all the random parts that went along with it. In it's place was, while not nearly as expensive or nice as his own, a rather sleek looking gray motorcycle.

Oh, and most importantly, a very sexy Mirajane who was wearing some kinda leather outfit with a big zipper down the front, stopping just beneath her boobs and, damn, fuck dinner or his place; Laxus wanted to take her right then and there.

"Surprise!" Mirajane, having no doubt heard him coming, had gotten onto the motorcycle backwards, as if posing for him. "Do you like it?"

Laxus swallowed. "The bike? Or what you got on?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her innocuous tone played up to the maximum. "This is my bike riding gear."

"What are you? Erza?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"No," he said, quite definitely, slightly fearful that the woman would transform into the swordswoman and completely ruin the mood. "I don't."

Giggling, Mirajane shifted on the bike, leaning forwards so that her hands were rested on the fender. He was almost fearful (read hopeful) that her breasts would pop out of the tight garment when she did so, but no such luck.

"You got your bangs down," he said as he came closer, Mirajane grinning up at him.

"That's how you like them? Right?"

"Mmmm." Laxus stopped in front of her. "This is your bike, huh? Didn't take you long to shop around."

"Well, I did consult Freed-"

"You what?"

"-and he helped me out."

"Why would you do that? You shouldda waited for me to get back! I'dda got you one just like mine. I-"

"Overly expensive, you mean? No thanks."

"Mirajane-"

"Your jewels are over there." She nodded at where she'd sat the stack he handed her before taking off. It was meant for her to use on her motorcycle. "I didn't need them."

"Of course you did."

"No. I told you when you gave them to me that I wanted to buy it for myself."

Laxus didn't move to go pick them up. Only said, "You gonna go change then? For dinner? I figured I'd see if we could get into-"

"Oh, no, dragon." Mirajane got to her feet then. "We're going riding."

"What did you just call- And what are you talking about?"

"Riding." She nodded at her bike. "Hop on. We'll head over to your place and get your motorcycle and then we can ride together." Then she bounced a bit, no doubt just to get his eyes to drift back down to her breasts. As if they'd ever left them. Ha. "Unless you like being my, what is it? Bitch?"

Ugh. Just ugh.

Giggling at his expression, Mirajane grabbed his hand before pulling him over. "Come on. I've gotten really good at driving it. And I won't go too fast. Promise."

Laxus didn't want to. For multiple reasons. And he definitely didn't want to, as Mirajane put it, be her bitch, but when she was in front of him and he wrapped his arms around her middle and, gosh, could she feel as turned on he was? Or…

"Here, Lax." Mirajane reached down and grabbed the helmet that she'd sat to the side of the bike before handing it to him. When he just stared, she said, "If something happened, bitch, I would die if your skull cracked open and not m-"

"Just put on the damn helmet, woman." He shoved it over her head. "And come on."

Riding was, just as Laxus thought it would be, was horrible. Mirajane drove far too fast and took way sharper turns than needed to be taken. He about vomited all over at her at more than one time. He could hear her giggle too, even over the sound of whipping wind and bike when he tightened his hold around her stomach and buried his head in her shoulder.

Laxus could hardly stand when they finally pulled into his apartment building's garage and alongside his bike.

"Hurry up, Lax. Go get your keys." Mirajane flipped up the face visor on her helmet. "And try not to puke on the way, huh?"

Clearly, the bike gave Mirajane the allusion of power.

No wonder that love of her life guy left her…

Err…

Mirajane, for some reason, thought the best thing for them to do on their bikes together was race. Race where? Who knew. Through the city? Out of the city? Were they abiding speed limits? Was she even noticing that he was definitely lagging behind and close to barfing?

When they finally pulled back up at Mirajane's place that night, Laxus thought he was dying. He felt intoxicated with nausea.

And you know what? Maybe he didn't need to be with Mirajane. If that was her idea of fun (and he had a sinking feeling that it was going to become so) then clearly they were just different people. If it was the motorcycle that was such a turn on to her, then hey, he knew plenty of guys, powerful mages, who would be just as turned on by that. But not him.

Laxus would admit it; he was a poser. A big, fat poser. Plain and simple.

Until...you know, Mirajane got off her bike too and took him into the house, leading him right to her bedroom where she thought that the best cure for motion sickness was a blowjob and, hey, maybe it wasn't, but Laxus wasn't complaining.

Mmmm. Maybe he could put up with motorcycles. If that was where they ended him up.

"Lax?"

Grunt. He was stretched out in the center of her bed and refused to open his eyes for fear of the ceiling spinning above him if he did so.

"Did you… While you were gone, did you sleep with anyone else?"

Groan. "Mirajane-"

"I'm not mad," she told him softly and she hardly sounded interested. "But, I mean, if you already have, then we need to just go ahead and realize that this isn't going to work and-"

"I didn't do anything, Mira," he breathed. "Other than my job. And then I came home."

"Oh." She was nuzzled up under his arm and only whispered, "Then you...wanna give this a try? Really? Have you thought about it?"

Nodding, just a bit, he said, "I really do like you, Mira. And being with you. Hell, woman, I just rode around for hours on a damn bike and about died just to keep you entertained." He grinned then, if not a tad morosely, before saying, "I don't know how good of a boyfriend I'll be, when it counts, but I wanna try for you."

Mirajane giggled before kissing his side. "I really don't think I could ask for anything else."

And later that night, after his stomach quelled a bit, enough for some dinner, and they'd taken the fact Mirajane had her own, separate bathroom from her siblings to their advantage by showering together, Laxus didn't really know how he felt about the whole thing. Not even as Mirajane curled up with her back to him and he only snuggled right up to her, one arm stretched over her as he gently stroked her fingers with his own.

He didn't want to hurt Mirajane. Ever. At all. But he felt like, inevitably, he would. He'd miss dates or flake on events and then, eventually, he'd be drunk one night and a woman would be all over him and he would just…

It was impossible, practically, for him not to wind up hurting her. So why shouldn't he do it just then? As they were lying there? Before feelings got too invested either way? What would be wrong with that?

Because, selfish as it may be, Laxus just didn't want to. He wanted to keep Mirajane around. And if he had to be her...boyfriend for that, then so be it. He would feign the role for as long as she let him and, when it did inevitably go south, what could be said other than at least he tried?

Laxus didn't know, of course, that in about two years, that finger of hers he was stroking so softly as she drifted off would house a nice little diamond that he spent forever picking out or that, eventually, he wouldn't just be tossing around money on frivolous things like motorcycles just to make himself look cool. He'd have a mortgage, with Mirajane. And he certainly didn't know about the three sons they'd have in the coming decade, much less that eventually it would be Mirajane who tirelessly nursed him back to health when, in about twenty years, he would catch a rather nasty virus and nearly lose his life.

And really, it was probably for the best he didn't know any of that. If he did, he'd have probably gotten up, right then and there, and ran. Never looked back. But he didn't know, so he didn't run, and, well, when Mirajane asked him the next morning if he wanted to take their bikes out for a spin ("just a quick one, dragon"; he still didn't know where she got off calling him that), it was with a slight smile that he agreed.

He wasn't certain if he could be her boyfriend back then. But...he could stomach a ride or two. A couple of test drives. Just to check it all out.

#Miraxus #Mirajane #Laxus #Freed Justine #Lisanna #Elfman Strauss #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

rachaeloehring · 5 years

Text

Something Borrowed: “How To Order A Bottle Of Wine Like You Know What You're Doing”

Originally posted on the Deadspin vertical Adequate Man (RIP) on June 22, 2016

Going out to dinner with friends can easily become a big event—after agreeing to share a meal together, you’ll have to choose the cuisine, the restaurant, and whether to invite that one person everyone has been avoiding for a few weeks. The decisions don’t end there. Once you settle in at the restaurant, and everyone is enjoying themselves with craft cocktail in hand—except for that one jerk-off who’s doing the Whole 30—the inevitable happens. Someone asks the dreaded question: “Should we get a bottle of wine?”

Considering that you tried to order a Michelob Ultra as a pre-dinner aperitif, maybe you aren’t the best person to helm this project—but the wine list is touching your hand, and everyone has that same stink of fear on them. So you grab it, and your eyes glaze over as a light panic settles in. Choosing a wine for the table involves a level of snobbery that you don’t have, and what if you order something that doesn’t make any sense? Don’t worry! With a little know-how (and some outside help), you can navigate the wine list like a pro.

Understanding the menu:

Wine lists are usually broken up into categories—hopefully, one of those categories looks vaguely familiar and you can cling to that. If not, just keep in mind the few basic red and white varietals seen on most menus:

Cabernet: One of the world’s classic grapes. It shows up a ton as a single varietal in California wines, and is usually the main grape in Bordeaux-style blends. Cabernet tends to be more full-bodied with dark fruit flavors, and pairs well heavier items, such as steak, lamb and duck. It’s the no-brainer choice if you’re at a steakhouse.

Zinfandel: Known as California’s grape, Zinfandel can range from jammy, with a little bit of residual sugar, to peppery and full-bodied. Look for “Old Vine” bottles if you can afford it. These also pair super well with meat, but will see you through to dessert.

Chardonnay: This is the white wine your mom drinks. Most California varieties are oak-aged and therefore very buttery and full-bodied, so they can be a little overwhelming, but this is a wine that will pair well with a lot of dishes—from ripe cheeses to seafood to pasta—especially if you have someone at the table (your mom) who refuses to drink red wine.

Riesling: This is growing in popularity on a lot of menus—it’s so much more than that blue bottle of sweet garbage that your aunt buys at Wal-Mart. From crisp and dry to wonderfully fruity, Riesling is insanely dynamic. Light Alsatian rieslings pair well with fresh, farm-to-table dishes, while a drier, more acidic German trocken riesling is amazing with spicy Asian or Indian food.

If the list isn’t broken down into specific categories, the best thing to do is to look at how it’s organized. Usually, a wine list is organized in one of two ways, within the red and white wine verticals: by price (in which case, pick the third-cheapest bottle of wine and go), or what’s known as a progressive list. A progressive list means that wines are organized by lightest and sweetest at the top, going all the way down to fullest and driest and biggest at the bottom. This makes things pretty simple, because if you know what you like flavor-wise, you can hew to one end of the list or the other and be pretty sure it’ll be okay.

When in doubt, order a Pinot Noir:

Pinot Noir is lighter-bodied, tends on the easy-drinking side, and it’ll please both those who insist on red wine and those who aren’t big fans of it, as well as pairing really well with most foods, from cheese and charcuterie to fish and steak. Oregon Pinots tend toward the lighter, more elegant side, with earthy, soft notes, while California Pinots tend to be fuller-bodied and have more jammy fruit notes. As with all things wine, though, your mileage may vary. Most restaurants, especially steakhouses, are going to have a more Cabernet-heavy list, but perusing the more unique sections of any wine list can uncover some hidden gems if you’re looking for them.

Ask your server for a recommendation:

If you’ve been staring at the wine list for an embarrassingly long amount of time and still have no idea what to order, ask your server! That’s kind of what they’re there for. A fun game to play at really ritzy places is to ask your server for their recommendation and watch them try with every fiber of their being not to just point to the most expensive bottle on the menu. And then watch their brain short circuit when you ask them what Pinot Noir they’d recommend.

Even if they don’t know the ins and outs of every wine on the list, a good server will always have a shortlist of wines they know and recommend in various price ranges, depending on how much you want to spend—which is totally okay (and preferred!) to be upfront about. A great server will go and ask whoever put the wine list together (the chef, sommelier or manager) for their recommendations based on what you ordered. It’s always nice to ask your server what they like (and then choose that!), since they probably drink a lot to dull the pain of people asking for ketchup to put on $60 steaks.

If you’re in the type of restaurant with a sommelier—usually the person with the purple teeth—they can always guide you through the menu, chat about wine pairings and make very specific recommendations based on the food you ordered or what you know you like. Sommeliers have a reputation for being pretentious, but a lot of them are big old nerds who are just really excited to share their wine knowledge and love with anyone who will listen. (They also might be a little drunk, depending on how many “wine tastings” they’ve had that day.)

Presentation and corking etiquette:

Okay, so you finally fucking chose a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, the ignominy isn’t over yet. Now comes the wine presentation. It’s a whole thing—sorry—but it’ll be over quick. Generally, the person who ordered the wine is the one who does the tasting at the table. If you ordered the wine, but someone else actually picked it out, it’s totally cool to foist the responsibility of the whole thing onto the person who did the choosing.

First, your server is going to roll over with glasses and a linen draped over their arm like Basil Fawlty. Then they’ll present the bottle to you by holding it in front of you. No one—especially not your server—expects you to give more than a passing glance at the bottle and smile and nod, most likely because you’re ordering something you’ve never seen before. At the very least, make sure that it’s not a bottle of white when you ordered a bottle of red. Then your server will futz with the foil and try to make light conversation. If you’re with a large party, it’s cool to ignore your server during this trying time, but if it’s just two of you, sitting there silently while the wine opener squeaks into the cork is just going to make everything awkward for everyone. Laugh at your server’s jokes and it’ll all be over quicker.

Next, your server will present you with the cork. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT SNIFF THE CORK. Sniffing the cork will tell you nothing about the cork, or the bottle of wine. It will only tell the people around you who know what they are doing that you are a dingus. Just pick it up, smile and nod (again), and set it aside. If the wine is bad (it isn’t 1964, we know how to preserve and ship wine now, it’s not bad, I swear), you will determine that when you taste it anyway.

If the wine isn’t more than 10 years old—seeing that you are currently seeking advice on how to order wine, it probably isn’t—don’t ask your server to decant it. That’s not going to do anything, and it’s just more time spent on this whole fucking enterprise that you could be using to get drunk. It also doesn’t need to be uncorked when you’re eating your salad and sit on the table “opening up” until your entrees come. Again, that does nothing more than make you look like a giant dingus.

Tasting the wine:

After the cork presentation, your server will pour a taste into your glass. It’s totally acceptable to swirl it—to let the wine get introduced to a little bit of air and open up a bit. Then stick your nose in the glass and sniff. No one’s taking notes, so as long as it doesn’t smell like vinegar, it should be fine. It should at least smell, you know, nice. Like wine. Then, taste it. It should taste good! You should like how it tastes! Then you say, “Yeah, tastes great! Thanks for the recommendation!” Then your server will pour wine into everyone’s glass (yours last, it’s not personal) and leave. The hard part is now over, and you can drink the wine you ordered and feel accomplished.

Refilling your glass:

Don’t be that guy and drag the bottle over to the farthest edge of the table so only you can pour refills (because chivalry isn’t dead or something). Let your server do their job and refill your glass. Sometimes a server will wait until a patron’s glass is empty so they don’t mix old wine with the new wine from the bottle, and so they can enjoy a glass to its fullest when it’s nearer to the end and the flavor is more open. Sometimes your server just forgot about you. (Sorry.) This is a weird dance. Don’t be a jerk if they don’t fill the glass fast enough for you, or if you have to pour your refill. The whole point of this thing is to enjoy yourself! I think.

0 notes

thelifepartners · 7 years

Text

Cheyenne Morse

Nice Girls

Photo by waferboard

I leaned over the counter and refilled Claire’s coffee. She was sitting at the dinner’s counter in her usual spot, endlessly tucking stray white hairs behind her ears. Claire was doing the crossword, her blue pen making a quiet scratching sound on the paper. It was one of my favorite sounds. She was in here just about every night drinking coffee and doing that crossword.

I left a little room for her to stir in some sugar. Before I could turn away she tapped the end of her pen next to one of the words she’d put in the crossword. I pretended to be shocked.

“That is downright filthy,” I said, barely containing a laugh.

“Sometimes they make these things too easy and I’m forced to challenge myself,” she said. I realized that she had filled all the squares with words one wouldn’t use in polite company. I cackled.

“I’m tempted to ask what twelve down means but I don’t know if I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I have read the graffiti in the bathroom. I’m basically immune to this stuff, luv”

“I wrote half that graffiti, I promise it can get a lot worse,” she grinned.

“You’re bad,” I said, shaking my head.

“Beats trying to be good all the time. Being nice is exhausting,” she said.

“Amen to that,” I said. I glanced over at a middle aged man who was ignoring the napkin dispenser on his table and wiping his greasy fingers on the booth. “At least it’s almost time to get out of here.” It was already ten minutes past when I was supposed to get off, I was just waiting for the gentleman with greasy fingers to settle his bill. The bell above the door jangled and I turned from the clock to greet whoever had arrived. It was Charles.

Charles and I grinned at each other and I gestured for him to have a seat. Before I turned around I knew the general manager, Jerry, had appeared behind me. Jerry loved it when Charles came in, having someone famous, even if it was for dubious reasons, made him feel like this place was important. Charles only came out this way when he was on Family business but any glamour, even one as potentially dangerous as Charles, made Jerry feel important and he only came in to see me.

“Yes, Jerry, I’ll stay.” I said turning to see him with a pleading smile plastered on his face. I stepped away to put the Decaf coffee pot down before Jerry could put a hand on my shoulder. Jerry had worked customer service for too long and was incapable of genuine emotion. Someone at some point must have told him a hand on the shoulder made him seem more personable but it really was just going to get him punched in the face one of these days.

“Thank you, Mary!” He gave me double thumbs up and a big smile then disappeared back into his office before someone could ask him to do anything. Claire was smiling at me as well. She tapped the end of her pen next to six across. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at me. I grabbed the pot with regular coffee to bring out to Charles.

“See if he’ll do this one for you,” she said.

“You’re filthy, Claire,” I whispered as I went past her.

“He’d be into it, I would bet on it.” Claire hissed back.

I went over to Charles who had taken his normal booth with his back against the far wall. He smiled easily at me. He was handsome and he knew it, he was also trouble and I knew it. So far I had rebuffed several polite requests to accompany him to more exciting venues. I didn’t mind that he kept coming by, I just had enough good sense to keep saying no.

In the beginning I think he appreciated that I wasn’t impressed with him. The first time I served him I only got his table because Mellissa hadn’t wanted him. She’d nearly dropped the pitcher of ice water when she went out to greet him. She had argued fiercely with Jerry over some blood she had noticed on his sleeve. So I took over. The two of us got along really well and Charles started finding himself in the area a lot more frequently.

I knew he was packing, I could see the outline of it through his suit jacket. It made the other servers nervous but as far as I was concerned he’s at a disadvantage. I could dump this whole pot of coffee on him before he could get that pistol out. I wasn’t afraid at all.

“How are you doing tonight, luv?” I asked him. It was what I called everyone. When things were going fast in the kitchen there was no time to remember anyone’s name. Everyone became hon or luv or get this out to table three right now. Charles loved that, he put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes as if he was basking in the warmth of the word.

“So much better now that I’m here with you,” he said.

“Always good to see you,” I said, filling his mug with coffee. He glanced at the clock.

“Am I keeping you late?” He asked. “Work went longer than I thought.”

“Only a touch and I’m still waiting on another table. Don’t worry about it.” He opens his mouth to reply but notices a purple-blue stain on my hand. He took my hand and ran his thumb gently over the mark.

"Is this a bruise? What happened?" I gave him a wry look but I don't pull my hand away. He clearly knew it wasn't a bruise or he wouldn't be touching it, he was just looking for an excuse to hold my hand.

"I was making jam, blueberry. Its messy business," I said. He smiled at me, charmed at the idea of me making homemade jam. I took my hand back gently.

"You’re such a nice girl," he said. I chuckled.

"Making my own jam makes me nice? That’s all it takes these days? Sounds more like something that makes me a thrifty girl. Or maybe a masochist, it’s a lot of work."

"Well you’re staying late to see me, I think that’s pretty nice."

“That sounds more like the sort of girl with bills to pay.” We are both smiling but I can see he's trying to work up to something. I don’t want him to get there, mostly because I don’t like turning him down. I set the coffee pot down on the table and slid into the booth across the table from him. The next words coming out of his mouth were derailed by delighted surprise. I wasn’t supposed to do this while I was on the clock but I didn’t think Charles or Jerry would mind.

"Just because you’re nice to me and I'm nice to you doesn't mean we’re nice people," I said. “I know you’re only out here on business.”

“Not always,” he said.

“That’s even more dangerous. I like it when you come to see me, I really do, but you’re not the only shady character that comes around here. What if you get spotted? People know you come here, that’s not good. You’re alone out here.”

“That’s why I come out here. My family dominates everything I do but out here I’ve got a little room to breathe. It’s about as far away from them as I can get,” he said. I reached across the table and took his hand in mine.

“I understand that, better than you know. It feels like your life is opening below your feet like a black pit. You can either try to run away as fast as you can or you can scream fuck it on your way down and hope it echoes around a while before disappearing and there is no sign left of you. But I don’t see you running and getting yourself shot out here isn’t going to do you any good either.” He looked up from our clasped hands and smiled a little sadly at me.

“For all that they run my life my family doesn’t really give a shit about me. If someone lit me on fire my father would track them down and kill twenty of their closest friends but he wouldn’t piss on me to douse the flames. No one cares about me. Just you. You’re the only person who smiles when they see me. I can’t give that up.”

I felt a blush rising in my cheeks. Sitting down was a mistake. I thought he just had a little crush and I could startled him out of coming by talking about something real, like being in danger. But I was the one in trouble. It had been a long time since anyone needed me. Claire was the closest thing I had to a friend. I hadn’t seen my own family in ages.

I could feel his declaration sink into my chest like a hook. Something I wouldn’t be able to remove without pain. I didn’t want him to go. He must have seen the look on my face. His other hand closed around mine. I slid my hand free and stood up hurridly.

“I need to check on my other table,” I said.

“Mary, wait—“

“I’ll put you in for your usual.” I turned away and walked quickly over to my other table. Charles didn’t follow me, thankfully. The guy with the greasy fingers was playing on his phone with one hand and was mopping up a ketchup smear with the last of his fries. “How are you doing, sir?”

“I’m ready for the check,” he said, around his mouthful of fries. I already had his check printed and I slipped the black folder out of my apron and set it on his table. “Don’t go away, I’ll give it to you right now.”

The man fumbled for his billfold and I was grateful for the extra minute I would have a reasonable excuse not to talk to Charles.

The bell on the door jangled and I felt a cool breeze on my face as the door swung inward. I looked up automatically, a reflexive instinct just from working here so long. My greeting never made it past my lips.

The man who entered was pale and in dark clothing. The brim of his hat was pulled down to cover his eyes. One arm was hanging low at his side to keep the gun in his hand from eye level. I started to shout a warning but the blast of the gun swept away all other noise.

Charles jerked back in the booth. A shout of pain. A splash of red. One of his hands clasped the wound in his chest. The other hand fumbled for the gun under his jacket but he wouldn’t make it, not in time.

Fuck it.

I moved before I could think about what a bad idea it was. I grabbed a steak knife off of the table and rushed the guy. He's new to the profession or he's cocky because the shooter didn't even realize I was coming up behind him until I was sliding the knife between his ribs. His second shot went high, blowing a hole in the plaster above Charles' head as he jerked in surprise and pain. It’s been a while since I've stabbed anyone, I got more resistance than I was expecting. The knife was crap. I told Larry all the time that we needed better knives; just because they have a bit of serration doesn't mean they are good for anything. The blade doesn't go as deep as I want but it goes deep enough. I yank it free and stab him several more times so it looks more like I was stabbing frantically and got lucky.

The shooter goes down with a gurgle of his own blood and I let him fall. I kick the gun away from him even though he's in no position to use it. Old habits die hard. I step passed his twitching body and over to Charles.

It wrenched my heart to see so much blood. He was still conscious but he was pale. He needed help. Claire was loudly shouting some of her crossword curses. She was on the floor beneath the counter. Pretty much everyone but Charles and I were cowering. I doubt anyone really saw what I did, but there were still the cameras, nothing I could do about them.

"Claire, can you get to the phone on the wall? Can you call the police?" My voice quavered a bit as I spoke. It's been a while since I had to kill anybody. Adrenalin was roaring in my ears. It would be good to sound shaken up, the others might not have braved a peek out from under the tables yet but I had no doubt they were listening. I cleaned my hands hurriedly on the towel I had tucked into my apron.

"Y-yeah, I can do it," Clair said. I nodded, satisfied, one or two people were probably making the call already but Claire was likely to come over to me once she knew it was safe and I wanted a moment alone with Charles. I slid into the booth next to him and my hands joined his over the wound. He grunted in pain at the extra pressure.

"Hold on, Charles. You hang in there. You're gonna make it through this."

"You killed that guy."

"Yes I did." He was pale and it was clear he was in a lot of pain. His head tilted back and he exhaled sharply. I looked over my shoulder and called out to anyone listening. "Hey I need that ambulance, please tell them to hurry." When I looked back at Charles I realized his eyes were closed.

"Charles. Charles! Don't go to sleep. Charles, open your eyes." Slowly his eyes opened and he looked at me. "Listen to my voice."

"I love the way your voice sounds."

"Don't waste energy on being charming. I know you're charming.” I pitched my voice lower so only Charles could hear me. “I need your professional opinion on something. Cops are gonna be here any second, what do you think of this?" I let tears start pouring down my face.

"I didn't have a choice officer. I was so scared. He shot Charles who is just the sweetest guy. I though he was going to kill everybody. I didn't know what to do." Tears still poured down my cheeks but I gave him a little smile. Charles looked shocked and amused.

"I take it you've done this before."

"You aren't the only one with family problems. I tried to tell you, I'm not a nice girl," I said. He gave a small pained laugh.

"You just saved my life, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." I laughed. We smiled at each other.

#thelifepartners #Cheyenne Morse #Prose #short story #violence

4 notes · View notes

randoreviews · 6 years

Text

LONDON, WORLD WAR 2

“So you’re telling me the King smells like shit?” Dave asked, sitting across the circular coffee table from me. “Right now he does. If you believe he doesn’t have any soap either,” I told him. Dave thought about it. He had half a cigarette in his hand but he wasn’t smoking it. Everything had to be rationed. And parceled out. He had gloves with the fingers cut off but I told him, even in these circumstances, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him if he wore them, so he kept them in his pocket. “I bet the sumbitch is taking bubble baths,” Dave said. “That would really be the limit,” I said. “You can’t go from being a prick your whole life and then suddenly not being a prick,” Dave said. Someone walked by and we looked at them as if they could have been a spy, which they could have been. At any rate, they probably wouldn’t have liked us defaming their King, if this person was a Brit. We were sitting in the lobby of a hotel that wasn’t entirely a flophouse, though not much better. It had a chandelier that would shake when the Gerries dropped their bombs. We’d been sent by the Kansas City Star to do some reporting, give the people back home something to read along with their Sears-Roebuck. In short, we were trying not to get killed and to keep our senses of humor. We had hats and suits but they smelled too. Everyone smelled. No soap. At night they shut all the lights off -- a blackout, a curfew -- and it would really be dark. We were scared to even light a match for fear of attracting attention from overhead. I personally, being from the Midwest, had never been bombed before. The Brits had too much pride to directly look at us for saving... not that Dave or I could do anything besides write a few measly bylines and parararagraphs... but when they heard our flat, hokey accents, you could see it behind their eyes. Not so high and mighty now, and then you’d remember we were all in it together. We all smelled. “How much soap does Adolph have?” I asked Dave. “God,” Dave thought aloud. “The irony of him being the only one who smells good.” “I bet he wears cologne,” I said. “Yeah, something strong too. I bet he smells like a bear,” rolling the cigarette back and forth between his fingers. “He doesn’t scrimp on the pomade. It must affect his thinking, that much pomade.” “Someone should poison his pomade,” I suggested. “Strychnine directly through the skull. Would make for one hell of a head-ache.” “I’m sure they’ve thought of it.” “They?” “The eggheads.” I nodded. “And the German eggheads too,” Dave went on. “Everything must be tested on someone else first. Who’s that guy?” “Who?” “The guy who hasta, you know, try his scrambled eggs before him, the guy who has to sample his pomade.” “Must be a very helpless bird.” The waiter, George, brought us our gin fizzes in tall glasses. 1/20th gin to soda, if we were lucky. Just enough alcohol to kill anything fishy in the ice cubes, one hoped. It wouldn’t get us drunk but it would put that tang on your tongue that reminded you of better days. And just the act of drinking, of course, the social ceremony. “Thank you, Georgie,” Dave said, and leaning forward as George bent down, his insignia faded over his breast pocket, Dave put a couple tidy notes in the pocket. “Not at all, sir,” said George. The Brits would certainly stand on ceremony until they were killed. That’s one thing you had to respect about them. If manners were to go, then really, everything was lost. “Too kind, sir, too kind.” “You take that scratch and you buy some nice socks or something,” Dave told him. “I know just the place, sir.” “Will they have polka dots?” “Polka dots, sir, I believe they will, sir. And I do like a good polka dot, sir.” “That’s why I like you, Georgie,” Dave said. “Well thank you, sir,” and he bowed and left. A woman walked through the lobby wearing a fox around her neck and we watched her with our drinks in our hands. I had half a mind to point it out to her but she must have been aware. Were only the fox to come alive again and give her a good scare. If she had any conscience, she must have had dreams as much. Who was the rabbit she was chasing? I had to stop my mind on this line. “A porter steak,” Dave said, apropos of nothing, to divert me back. “With hollandaise.” “I don’t know if I want to do this right now,” taking my hat off and fitting it on my knee. “A porter steak!” Dave insisted. “All right, all right, ummm... french fries and a cola.” “Any ketchup?” “What do you think? A whole mess of ketchup,” I said, the gin fizz saturating into my tongue and maybe a little bit my head. “A rib-eye!” Dave said. “Are you just going to say different steaks?” I asked. “Couscous!” Dave said. “Ooo, that’s quite worldly and not a bit American.” Dave seemed pleased with himself for this. All over the city, whether you were scurrying through an alleyway or loitering at the bottom of a stairwell, you would always hear this back-and-forth, if only in whisper, of foods people were craving for, sometimes talking to themselves. It was like a woman who had gotten away, who you might see again. Or I guessed if you were a woman, a man who had gotten away, who you might see again, and he’d be wearing just the right cologne that would drive you crazy. “Raisin bran!” I threw out. “Raisin bran?” Dave asked. I shrugged. Dave thought about this and then shrugged himself and nodded his head. “A steak sandwich!” he shouted. The woman with the fox came back through with a younger, slighter man on her arm this time. Oh, do behave, I thought, as they went out the entrance, behind the palms, and back out into the not-at-all-safe street. Something told me that woman could survive anything. She was well built and appeared very resolute. She could have probably killed Hitler with a single blow from her purse. “How would you like a few rounds with her?” Dave made me imagine with one eyebrow raised. “I don’t think I’d make it,” I said, washing the truth down with a sip. A man with an eyepatch walked through. “What do you think they’re doing in Kansas City right now?” Dave asked. “Listening to the radio. Eating steak.” “God that sounds grand.” “Making love. Raising children.” “God, stop it. Our country really is the best.” “No, probably just wondering about things over here.” “Some people must be making love though,” Dave said. “Statistically, I think so. The few guys left over there must really be quite busy.” “Well the women think, well who’s this twerp not at war.” “That’s true,” I said, thinking and nodding. “But maybe they still have a go at the guy, out of sheer desperation.” “I have bone spurs! Now make love to me!” Dave’s laugh was easier than it had ever been, and started almost inaudibly before going down into his center. “Sirs,” George appeared, hands behind his back and leaning forward as ever, “A telegram has just come through the wire for you, from your employer.” I had gotten up to get the one a couple days ago so Dave got up this time and came back with it, some letters and symbols that had made their way over, through, under, across the pond. He handed it to me. “STILL ALIVE?” it read. “SEND SOMETHING JUICY... OR DON’T COME BACK ATALL - YOURS, J.J.” Jonathan James was our managing editor, and like the wife that was always on you about something. Some men needed that though, and maybe we needed him to be just who he was. “Should I respond saying, ‘HAD TEA WITH THE QUEEN.’ Stop?” “How about, ‘HITLER SMELLS’?” “Although he probably doesn’t.” “J.J. must be cleaning up. A bachelor who has no scruples,” I said. “If a person has no scruples, can they ever get scruples?” Dave wondered. The man with the eyepatch walked through again, but I swore he wore it on his other eye this time. Maybe it was the fizz. But I swore. “Where are all of our friends of the Jewish persuasion?” I asked. The lights cut out, the chandelier started rattling. George closed the curtains behind the palms. Dave quickly lit the other half of his cigarette.

0 notes

spookierswamp · 7 years

Text

@questforsims tagged me in this questionnaire thing bc he knows they’re my favorite lmao, answers under the read more....

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED? I'm literally terrified of people who can sleep with closet doors open like... do you fear nothing...?

DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS? nah I usually end up using them all lmao

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT? untucked

HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE? not a street sign I guess but one time when I was 15 I was recovering from a party at a friends house in the middle of like, the Scottish nowherseville countryside and like 6am that morning we went out to take a walk and smoke and we ended up taking one of those roadworks signs back to her house for some reason... it was dumb lmao

DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES? heck yeah there's a wall in my room that's just post-it notes lmao it calms me

DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM? we don't rly have coupon culture as much here but I probably would if I lived in America...

WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES? they don't allow you to have bees in here

DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES? no and thank goodness bc if I had freckles I'd be... too cute.... too powerful

DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES? like... in group photos sure but if it's a selfie I almost never smile lmao

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? loud/messy eaters tbh

DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK? yeah I used to go on long hikes/walks in the forest and I'd be out for hours and like I'd take one of those pedometers w/ me and I'd feel so fuckin validated when I saw it get to 10,000 lmao...

HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS? y'all foolin if you been out in the woods and you said you haven't tbh

HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS? ok this is gross nevermind

DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERE’S NO MUSIC PLAYING? nah but if you put a bop on i'll immediately start dancing

DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS? part of me is like 'nah that's p gross' but yeah i probably do

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK? just one lmao

WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED? like... it can fit me + another fully grown man so it's pretty big i guess

WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK? So Emotional by Whitney Houston

IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK? I literally wear pink every day of my life you stupid bitch

DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS? yeah but not like... with the intensity some of y'all do... i really liked Gravity Falls especially

WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE? most disney movies tbh... I'll never get the appeal of them as a genre lmao... special shoutout to Ace Ventura: Pet Detective for being absolute fucking garbage though

WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME? I probably wouldn't even have time to hide it cause I'd immediately lose it somewhere lmao

WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER? honestly it depends on what dinner is? mostly I'll drink soda or wine

WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN? mustard, ketchup, bbq sauce, ranch

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? takoyaki! i also love any and all mexican food

WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE? there's literally... so many... lmao... Fire Walk With Me, The Birdcage, Scream, Wet Hot American Summer, Blair Witch Project, Donnie Darko, The Craft (like.. semi-ironically but I do love it lmao)

LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU? a boy but he's lame so he won't be named here lmao

WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT? nah I always thought boy scouts were dumb but as an adult I kinda wish I'd been a part of something like that

WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE? what kinda magazine....

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER? me and my ex-boyfriend used to write letters to each other all the time! so probably like, last year

CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR? nah, I've legit never even driven more than once lmao....

EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET? ... the one time I drove around it was in an abandoned parking lot and my then-boyfriend was sitting next to me with one hand on the steering wheel it was fun...

EVER RAN OUT OF GAS? .... i almost hit another car that was doing the same thing but i didn't and i was so proud of myself lmao

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH? meatball sub... or like.... steak & cheese

BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST? pancakes, coffee, hashbrowns and/or a breakfast taco, at least two kolaches

WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME? midnight or whenever i pass out after work

ARE YOU LAZY? yea

WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN? aw heck so many things! Vampires have always been a big thing for me tho and I was both Spike and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer multiple times lmao

WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? I can never remember which one but either dog or pig

HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK? I can barely speak my first language lmao but I can bluff my way thru German and I've made half-assed attempts at learning Russian, Japanese and Icelandic before...

DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS? nah

WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS? legos you dumb bitch

ARE YOU STUBBORN? sure

WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN? whoms't?

EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS? British soaps are genuinely class but I never rly keep up w/ them, also telenovelas are amazing and important...

ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? nah I love heights! I was afraid of them as a kid but ask any of my friends/boyfriends and they'll tell you I'm always trying to get people to go to the top of stuff lmao

DO YOU SING IN THE CAR? only during inebriated night-time road adventures

DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? pretty much constantly lmao

DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR? like... how?

EVER USED A GUN? honestly I've never even touched a gun lmao

LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER? uuh high school I reckon

DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY? yeah of course who doesn’t

IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL? very

EVER EAT A PIEROGI? no but it feels like my kind of shit

FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE? (dale cooper voice) cherry pie

OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID? painter or director, something artistic or whatever, maybe something with computers I always figured I’d be good at

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? yeah I love ghosts they're all my good pals

EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING? yeah and I'll do things multiple times in a row just out of not paying attention lmao

DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY? yeah I take an A-Z multivit and cod liver oil usually

DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS? nah they make my feet too damn warm boy

DO YOU WEAR A BATHROBE? nah but when I'm a guest in a hotel w/ somebody I'm always claiming dibs on the complementary bathrobe lmao

WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED? if it's cold I'll wear like a t-shirt or something

WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT? I went to a bunch of festivals and free concerts and stuff as a tiny lil' baby ten year old but the first one I went to without parents was probably like... Fall Out Boy? or another band from my 2007 - 2009 emo phase lmao

WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART? the only thing I learned when I was in America was that Walmart is both haunted and cursed, Target is The Promised Land and Kmart is a sensory hallucination

NIKE OR ADIDAS? Adidas.... also I like the new adidas NHL kits sue me....

CHEETOS OR FRITOS? the first time I had Fritos it was with a bean dip and I almost barfed so definitely Cheetos lmao

PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS? both are gross whatever

EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN? no but they sound very good

EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS? nah

IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING? handsome genius/hockey player

CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? heck yeah

EVER WON A SPELLING BEE? I legit don't think we have those here but I definately would have if I competed because I was the best damn speller in my class

HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY? I laugh-cry more than anything tbh

OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS? nah I used to have a record player and I've bought a bunch of records as gifts for people but like I download all my music anyway so I'm 2 lazy 2 cheap lmao

OWN A RECORD PLAYER? ^

DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE? nah but I love candles

EVER BEEN IN LOVE? yeah but honestly once was enough lmao

WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT? literally one of my only goals in life is to see Bjork live before she quits music or I die lmao... also Math the Band (again), Anamanaguchi, Mac Demarco, The Mountain Goats...

WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW? not like a concert I guess but I went to see Kim Chi perform in February and it was lit

HOT TEA OR COLD TEA? like... Iced Tea? the way this is worded is disgusting lmao I'll go with hot tea

TEA OR COFFEE? I literally make coffee every single fucking day of my life @ work and like... not only do I now hate it I hate anyone who drinks it lmao

SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES? what the fuck does this mean

CAN YOU SWIM WELL? yeah!

CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE? yeah!

ARE YOU PATIENT? yeah!

DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING? I'm not the kind of person to have friends who are in bands and not ask them to play at my wedding lmao also wedding DJ's are always weird old men

EVER WON A CONTEST? yeah I've won like.. talent shows and stupid semi-academic shit like that but nothing super cool

HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY? nah but no question i'd absolutely get it

WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES? green

CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET? nah but i can kind of sew

BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE? every room but only if you live in a log cabin or some shit

DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? yeah but like, not for the sake of being married?

IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED? ^

WHO WAS YOUR HIGHSCHOOL CRUSH? aw man I threw a lot of time and energy into dating boys in high school but like... my biggest crushes were always unattainable and short-lived lmao so no-one notable...

DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY? god honestly any single one of my friends/previous boyfriends will tell you I throw tantrums over literally anything lmao... I usually act pretty stable and emotionally mature but when I'm comfortable with people I'll fuck shit up for no reason lmao

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? nah

DO YOU WANT KIDS? I'm way too self-centered and emotionally unavailable for any of that shit right now lmao but in like 10 years I'd be open to it for sure

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? forest green, goth purples, black, pink, also what can only be described as like, Nickelodeon slime green

DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW? uhhhh pass

WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT? nobody! it's like, 100 questions long and I don't feel comfortable that tagging any of you won't be annoying lmao but if you wanna do this msg me and I'll tag you in it! ! ! !

#nonsims #questforsims #abt me

4 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 8 years

Text

And, in characters I just selfishly picked because I love them, Verde is next on the list for this cute little meme here!

1: Milk, dark, or white chocolate?

Verde doesn’t actually really care for chocolate overly much, as he doesn’t really care for much that’s sweet. However, if he is going to indulge in chocolate, it’s almost always going to be dark chocolate and often will have chili peppers or something of that type added to it.

2: What do they get on their pizza?

Verde’s a picky eater, especially when it comes to pizza. He prefers it to be mostly meat, extra sauce, extra cheese but with olives and onions added to it.

3: How well do they handle alcohol?

Verde is a bad drunk. He was before becoming an Arcobaleno and he is even worse after becoming one. He was always a bit of a cheap drunk, along with being a mean one, but his baby body cannot process alcohol at all and he’s drunk within the space of a drink.

4: What would be their ideal birthday cake?

No cake at all. Verde hates celebrating his birthday. He doesn’t see what’s the point of celebrating a day in the year that holds only the basest social significance. He doesn’t enjoy birthday parties or cake and doesn’t want either one, thank you very much.

5: Coffee or tea?

Verde prefers coffee, though too much caffeine after suppertime keeps him awake all night and he has to switch to decaf after supper. He drinks more coffee than anything else too, since he hates drinking water.

6: Burgers or hot dogs?

Verde would take a burger any day. He’s very ambivalent towards hot dogs. What even are they? Are they actually a food? What is in them?

7: How do they feel about vegetables?

Verde has no issues with vegetables. At least, no more so than he has towards other foods. He’s a picky eater and there’s a lot of vegetables he won’t eat but there’s some that he will. He likes onions, raw or cooked and peppers, always cooked. He enjoys carrots and celery though both have to be raw.

8: What's their favorite kind of cookie?

Verde prefers less sweet cookies so he prefers digestives, arrowroot cookies or animal crackers. He especially likes animal crackers since he can cackle before he bites the heads off of the poor, defenseless (fake) animals, though he’s always annoyed by animal crackers since he always gets that old Shirley Temple song stuck in his head.

9: What's their favorite of the five tastes?

Of the five basic tastes, Verde prefers sour foods or savoury foods. Both are an equal tie. He likes lemon especially of the sour foods and will often suck on a lemon while working on something or will drink just hot water and lemon. He likes a lot of savory foods though, preferring to eat them more often than anything else.

10: What's their favorite fruit?

As said above, Verde really likes lemons. He’s also quite fond of kiwi’s but only if they’re peeled. He hates the fuzzy texture of the skin and can’t handle the feel of it in his mouth.

11: Do they prefer hot or cold food?

Verde would rather eat hot food than cold, though he’s really not too fond of either. He doesn’t want to burn his tongue but he’s easily susceptible to brain freeze. He prefers his food warm to room temperature.

12: Are they a big eater, or do they tend not to eat much?

Verde tends to eat like a bird. He’s so used to going without eating, since he tends to forget to eat whenever he’s working on a project. However, if he goes too long without eating, he becomes a big eater and will eat at least three to four portions of whatever’s sitting in front of him before he begins to feel full.

13: What's their favorite drink?

As said above, Verde drinks more coffee than anything else. He easily drinks at least ten to twelve large mugs of coffee a day, though many of those are decaf. He enjoys the taste and how easily changeable coffee is simply by adding this or that element to it.

14: Ice cream or popsicles?

Verde prefers popsicles. They’re often healthier and less sweet than ice cream, which often has a lot of added sugar or added sweets into the ice cream. He especially likes just plain cherry popsicles.

15: Do they spell it "doughnut" or "donut"?

Verde spells it the logical way, the way it’s pronounced - dough-nut not do-nut.

16: How are they at cooking?

Verde can barely cook for himself. He can make food but it’s not going to be the tastiest food and honestly, is often something he can eat raw or something he can microwave. He’s really too busy to worry about cooking anything that takes more than a minute or two.

17: From best to worst, how would they rank the Starburst flavors (cherry, lemon, orange, and strawberry)?

From best to worst it would be lemon, orange, cherry, then strawberry though Verde hates Starburst. To him, they feel like nothing more than chemically flavored plastic in his mouth.

18: How do they feel about spicy food?

Honestly, Verde can take it or leave it. He does like spicy foods well enough and will eat some spicy foods with no complaints but it’s far from being his favourite thing to eat.

19: Do they have any strange eating habits?

Verde hates black pepper and refuses to eat anything if it’s even been next to something with black pepper on it.

20: How do they take their steaks?

Cooked. As in all the way through, no pink, not burned but cooked. It frustrates him to no end how many people cannot seem to comprehend that and burn his steak to a crisp when he asks for it to be cooked. He just doesn’t believe in eating half-raw cow - that’s just a bacterial infection waiting to happen.

21: What do they get on a burger?

Verde doesn’t like mustard or cheese, so he normally asks for the burger to have mayo, onions, tomato and just the tiniest bit of ketchup on it.

22: Do they watch cooking shows at all?

No. Verde wouldn’t ever think to watch a cooking show but then again, Verde watches very little television. He’s a bit of a workaholic and his spare time is normally spent sleeping, not watching television!

23: What's their favorite snack?

Nuts of any kind is something Verde does enjoy. He really likes walnuts but hates the tedious process of shelling them so he often just sticks with pre-shelled peanuts or raw almonds.

24: What's their favorite ice cream flavor?

If Verde absolutely had to eat ice cream, he sticks with a flavour most would think of as boring, just plain vanilla. It’s not too sweet, not too rich, just up his alley.

25: What's their favorite meal of the day?

Snacks are Verde’s favourite meal of the day. He prefers to snack throughout the day, about seven to eight very small snacks, instead of eating three square meals a day.

26: Pancakes or waffles?

Pancakes, really crisp on the outside but fluffy and soft on the inside, with baked beans on top of them is actually a favourite breakfast food for Verde.

27: What's a food they find particularly comforting?

Verde has a small hidden food stash of these really sour candies that he used to eat all the time when he was a child the first time called Warheads. He only eats one every couple weeks, sometimes even only once a month or less, but he keeps them around for when he needs a little something special.

28: Do they put marshmallows in their hot chocolate?

Verde doesn’t drink hot chocolate. He really doesn’t like it and would hate adding marshmallows to it even more, finding it cloyingly sweet.

29: If they were a food, what food would they be?

Verde would be coffee and biscuits, classic breakfast food staples - a little boring but easily changeable, a little bitter and plain but easily spruced up.

30: What kind of foods do they hate?

Really, Verde’s never going to be much for sweets. He also really dislikes a lot of foods, like black pepper, tabasco sauce, flavoured crisps or chips, and a lot of synthetic foods that he’s not even sure qualifies as foods.

31: Soup or salad?

Salad. Lettuce, radishes, carrots, onions, cucumbers, and maybe some crumpled up bacon or a sliced up egg for protein. That’s a pretty big meal for him though and something he’d eat quite rarely.

32: Cupcakes or muffins?

Verde doesn’t like cupcakes. The frosting on them is too sweet. However, he doesn’t mind carrot muffins or bran muffins. He can sometimes even be persuaded to eat fruit in his muffins, like blueberry or morning glory muffins.

33: Do they spend all year waiting for pumpkin spice lattes to come back?

No. Verde doesn’t get the big deal about pumpkin spiced anything really. They’re decent but it’s not like they’re the greatest thing in the world.

34: Do they eat food even after it's been dropped on the floor?

No. That’s very unhygienic and Verde could honestly probably tell you how many thousands of germs are on it, even if you follow the five second rule.

35: How do they feel about food touching other food on the plate?

It’s a touchy subject. If the food isn’t meant to be mixed together, such as it would need to be in a salad, then Verde doesn’t want it to touch. But sometimes it needs to, like oatmeal and berries or things along that vein.

36: What would they do if someone took a bite out of their food?

Verde would be pissed. That was his. Do not touch his things. Also, you’ve now rendered his food entirely inedible to anyone but yourself. It’s selfish and gross. He can’t eat that now. And he was likely hungry if he was actually bothering to eat.

37: What do they like on their toast?

Verde actually is an oddball who eats his bread either not toasted or his toast as warm bread, with nothing on it at all.

38: Do they prefer their noodles al dente, or do they like them softer?

Verde prefers softer noodles. He figures pasta shouldn’t still crunch. If it was meant to, people wouldn’t be cooking it but simply eating it out of the box as was.

39: How do they feel about bacon's explosive popularity?

Verde is confused. Bacon is fine as an occasional treat but he couldn’t imagine having it more than that - it’s hard to cook properly, greasy as anything, fatty and really bad for you.

40: What's their favorite kind of candy?

Verde doesn’t eat much candy but he does prefer sour candies. He likes Warheads and lemon drops and sometimes he will eat Sour Patch Kids or sour gummies, though that’s very rare.

41: Do they eat everything they make, or do they tend to save leftovers?

Verde eats until he’s full and nothing more. If there’s food left over, he just throws it out. He doesn’t like left-overs. He forgets about them and then ends up throwing them out anyway. He’s not starving or poor and doesn’t see the issue with wasting the little bit of food he does waste.

42: Do they chew gum at all?

Verde used to chew gum all the time before he became an Arcobaleno. However, with his baby body he can no longer comfortably chew gum, a habit he sorely misses. He sometimes substitutes the minty taste of his former gum with breath spray or by chewing on those tiny disposable toothbrushes but it’s never the same, not by a long shot.

43: Have they ever eaten something that wasn't edible?

No. Not that he remembers anyway. He might have taken a bite out of wax fruit once while very drunk.

44: How much cheese-in-a-can would they put on a cracker?

Cheese in a can is not food and Verde would not eat it. That is crap, artery clogging crap and he scoffs at it.

45: When it comes to Oreos, do they prefer the cookie or the cream?

It has to be both. Verde is the type to leave the cookie intact, dip it into the milk for just the right amount of time and then bite it in half without ever separating the cookie from the cream.

#happy reborn day #Reborn! Day #KHR Day #R!0311 #memes #headcanons #verde

6 notes · View notes