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chrisevansszn · 4 years

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THE GAMES WE PLAY‼

This is a story about you and Chris journey after filming your first movie together. Life comes at you fast. 👀

1.2k word count

You and Chris just finishing up shooting a movie together. A little romantic film, and it was time for press tours. The film took six months to film in Atlanta, GA. You flew back home to Texas for a week of rest, and he went back home to Boston. You can Chris developed an amazing friendship during filming. This was your breakout film, and to have the privilege to shoot a movie with Chris Evans! You couldn’t believe it!

*Income Facetime from Chris*

“Hey Chris”, you answered. You were just sitting in your living room watching a football game on tv. You could hear Dodger bark in the background. “Y/N, what are you up to”, Chris asked. “Just sitting watching some football” “I have never met a woman who loves football the way you do, I swear”. He giggled. “Chris, I watched it all NFL and college football”. “That’s crazy. I just absolutely love that”. You laugh. What do you have going on today? “I just took Dodger to the dog park, and now we are back. Football for me too!” You watch Chris walk to his kitchen, he’s chatting away, and grabs a beer. While filming you and Chris constantly went to bars, or played drinking games at each other’s rental homes, and you could hang with him too! “Let’s take a shot”, you say. He stopped and looked at his screen. “That’s my girl” You both grab a shot of liquor and cheer through the phone. “Scott is calling me. Let me get this call. I can wait to see you Friday in NYC.” “Same, talk to you later”, you say and hang up the phone.

The week goes by and you fly out to NYC for interview with Chris. First up, Jimmy Fallon.

“As you both know, I was able to see this with early access, and the film is incredible! Your on screen chemistry has me reeled all the way in”, Jimmy says. “Chris, I really notice how touchy feely you were this entire film”. Chris blushes. “Noooooo, were not going to make me look like a creep”, he laughs. “I was just dedicated to the craft. You smile, a smidge embarrassed. You and Chris rubbed and touched all over each other while filming this. You both were just super comfortable with each other. The audience goes wild. “Y/N, how was it shooting those intimate scenes?”, Jimmy asked you. You smile, “Work was really nice.” Jimmy died laughing. Chris looked over at you and gave you one of those smiles.

There was sexual tension between you and Chris, but it wasn’t obvious. It was little moments when you guys would smile at each other, or just look into each other eyes. Who could resist those beautiful blue eyes?

You guys had interviews a few more late-night shows, and then it was off to Los Angeles for the premiere. You were so nervous, because this was your very first one! Chris offered for you to stay with him at his LA home. You were only going to be in LA for a few days anyway. You accepted. Chris arrived in LA first, because you look at later flight so you could visit your friend Jessica in NYC. You haven’t seen her in years! You landed in LA at about 7PM, Chris had a car to pick you up from the airport. When you arrived at his house you could believe it. It was absolutely stunning, and huge. Way too big for a bachelor and his dog.

The driver opens the door for you, and you see Chris walking outside. “Y/N you made it”, he says. “Hi Chris,”. You run up and give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for letting me stay for a few days”. “Absolutely, anything for my favorite girl. Plus, I didn’t want to get ready alone”. You blushed, he called you his favorite girl! He grabs your luggage from the drive and both walk in the house. Dodger is lounging on the couch until he sees you. He comes running. “Hi Dodger.” You give him rubs, and he gives you kisses in return. “He loves attention,” Chris says. “Like his daddy”, you blurt out giggling. Chris dies laughing. “Are you hungry?” I made dinner if you are. “Um, yes. When am I not hungry?”

Chris made salmon, asparagus, and rice. It looked and smelled amazing. You both sit down to eat and he opens up a bottle of wine.

“I am absolutely terrified about the premiere tomorrow. Having everyone’s eyes on me gives me major anxiety”, you say. “Same, it doesn’t really get easy. I get butterflies every time”. You both finish dinner, and you suggest some drinking games. Beer pong up first! Chris sets up the game. It’s his favorite, but he knows you are a beast as well. Let’s go live in Instagram he says. That’s extremely odd. Chris never goes live on IG. “Sure”, you say. He sets up his phone and starts the live. He’s talking shit per the usual. “Ladies, first” You shoot and miss. “This is going to be cake”, he says. “All you do is talk shit”, you blurt. He shoots and misses. “Chris, what the fuck!”, he hollers. You giggle. You shoot and it goes into a cup. “Ok”, he says and nods his head up and down. You shoot again and make it, and again, and again. He couldn’t believe it. “Y/N, you are kidding me right??”. “Talking all that shit, you knew better. Let end this….KOBE!”, you hollering while shooting into the last cup, and it goes in. Chris made one cup to your ten.

You walk up his phone to talk to his live. “See what happens when you talk shit!” Chris comes behind you and picks you up by the waist and moves you from the phone, and then he goes back. “Noooo IG, were having a rematch right now”. He cannot stop laughing. You guys play another round of beer pong, flip cup, and then tic tac toe. You won every game. By that time, it’s around 11PM, not only were you both drinking beer but having shots of vodka all recorded on live. You both say goodnight to the live audience and clean up the mess.

“I am going to go take a shower and then lay it down”, you say. “Let me take you to your room”, Chris replies. You follow him down the hall to a guest bedroom. It was stunning, walls were painted grey, its own living area, and the view you can’t even describe.

“Here you go, all yours”, Chris says. “Thank you.” “Bathroom is over here, closet if you want to hang your clothes, and a living space.” “I love it.” “If you need anything let me know”. Chris kisses your cheek and walks back down the hall towards his room. “Come on Dodge…bedtime”. You hear him say. You take a shower and get into bed. It has been a long day and you are tired!

It’s the big day! The premiere of your first movie ever. The anxiety you are feeling can’t be described. Think about all of the fans and flashing lights, my goodness. Your team comes over to prepare your hair and make-up. The guest bathroom is so large everyone can fit. Chris’ team is at the other end of the hall getting him together. The premiere starts at 7PM. You are wearing a black fitted long velvet down, with huge emerald earrings. You dress comes with hand gloves that go up to your elbow, and you are wearing open toed Christian Louboutin heels. Chris is wearing an amazing blue suit with a white undershirt, and brown shoes. Chris walks into your room as you are finishing up. “You look beautiful,”, he says and smiles. You blush. “Thank you, sir, you look amazing as well”. You both head out of his home get into the back of the Cadillac Escalade the company sent. You and Chris made jokes the entire 30-minute ride to the theatre. He pulls out his God-awful iPhone 6 and snaps a couple of pictures of you guys. You finally arrive. There are two men awaiting and open each door for you both to get out and Chris comes around to your side. He grabs your hand and you both walk down the red carpet. The flash from all of the cameras is causing you to barely see. Chris still has your hand, and he is leading the way. There are so many other celebrities on the red carpet, fans are waving and calling your and, you have no idea where to look. You and Chris finally arrive at the first area of red-carpet photos. “Y/N, over here, Y/N over here” is all you can hear as you pose.

You look up a Chris, and he looks at you.

“You look so fucking sexy, I could fuck you right here on this red carpet”, Chris whispers in your ear.

WHAT DID HE JUST FUCKING SAY???

I hope you all enjoy this! 💞💞💞💞💞

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris jamal evans #chris evans #fanfiction #andy barber #captain america #cevans #ari levinson

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mitsukijuni · 3 years

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yet another smut fic of mondstadt npcs, this time Wagner and his apprentice, Schulz🤥

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Summer in Mondstadt means days of living through hell for us blacksmiths.

While the others are busy frolicking around in the grassy hills, winds intertwining in between their hair, the both of us are trapped in this cramped space; sounds of metal pounding against metal, water evaporating swiftly into hot mist as hot red iron was dunked into it. The small canopy on top our heads a slight reprieve from the smoldering heat.

With that said, the heat is a blessing in disguise. Summer in Mondstadt could mean a lot of things to others, but to me summer means that my master, Wagner, strips himself off of his shirt more often than any other seasons.

Opportune time for me to let my eyes wander about.

The scars scattered on his arm attracting my eyes, moving like water as he flexes his hand, shoulder blades tensing, hammering down on a rod; shaping it. Sweat dripping down his chest, making him gleam in the light. His presumably rock hard abs clenching as he heaved yet another lift with his hammer.

Although, this does bring some unwanted attention from the others, the town folks walking by our store repeatedly, sometimes even pretending to forget something, their actions deliberate and yet he seem to take no notice. Hell, even Captain Kaeya made a move on my master, leaning in too close for comfort, his only eye lidded with obvious lust.

Okay, maybe I am being a bit overprotective. Not my fault he's so hot.

I never knew when the seed of this —whatever it is— had been planted deep in my heart. But the one thing that I do know of is that, he'd probably never reciprocate this feeling that I have for him, the thought of it making my heart aches. Does he even, feel anything for me, I catch myself wondering at times.

Even when I had begged to him, face facing down into the dirt below, to accept me as his apprentice, he had begrudgingly took me under his wings. Every time I had presented to him a new craft of mine, a simple huff would be his answer before he melts it back down. But, its fine. As long as I get to be by his side, I would be fine admiring from the side.

"Oi!"

A hand; calloused and bigger than mine, circled my wrist, pulling it away roughly. I winced, the hold tight, almost bruising. "Watch what you're doing," he scolded, brows furrowed deeply. The slight panic in his voice alarming me back to reality. I raised my eyes to look at his bearded face, confused as to what happened that elicited such a reaction. That's when I noticed, the melted ore dripping down, my hand mere inches from it and nearly disintegrating my hand had it not been for him.

Silence fell, the topic dropped, faster than I could craft a dagger. The air around us tense as we continue to work and if there was a distance between us whenever we passed each other, neither of us did acknowledge it.

"Wanna go out for a drink?" I had blurted out, a silent hitch of breath escaping my mouth, scolding myself internally. He looked up, his dark eyes gazing into my own, his workspace now tidied and put away. "Sure," I almost missed it with how quiet he had whispered it out. My face lit up but I scrambled for words, explaining to him that he isn't obligated too but the tangent was cut short, "It's okay, Schulz. Let's just go already."

Knowing that I'd never get any other chance like this, I gathered myself, quickly catching up to his retreating figure, already heading towards Angel's Share. "Wait up, master!" I shouted, as I near him, walking briskly, following his pace. The night was silent, cicadas chirps filling it, when he said, "Just Wagner is fine, we're off work." It was my turn to stare at him, wondering since when he's become so, talkative. I hesitated.

"Okay, Wagner."

By the time we had reached the tavern, drinks were passed around, men and women stuffing their bellies with wine and countless pints of beers. The young lad, Venti was there too, drunk as it seems by how flushed his face had became. We sat on opposite ends, facing each other, between us a single pint of beer each.

Few minutes passed, the drink in my mug almost finished and yet not a single word was exchanged, leaving us-maybe just me-in an uncomfortable silence. The bearer stopped by our table many times, each time leaving a mountain of alcohol. And each time I drank and drank until I could no longer see the man in front of me clearly.

"I like you, Wagner."

I had messed up, I knew that and yet, I couldn't help but to gush out all of my feelings; bottled and finally being let out. Wagner sat there, his drink untouched. Empty beer mugs filled the space between us, the sight of the wooden table underneath vanished. By the time I had finished venting, an awkward silence hung amid us.

Wagner stood up, silently heading towards the bar, his pouch in hand. That's it, I was rejected, point blank. He must have left by now, the seat in front of me now vacant, my head hung low, tears brimming. A hand awkwardly clamped down on my drooping shoulder, sweat warming the spot. I glanced up, slowly meeting black eyes, red hue staining his cheeks.

He came back.

"Do you want to, um, come back to my place?" he sheepishly said, his other hand massaging his nape. I looked at him, surprised at what he had just said. With each seconds passing by, the red shade on his face grew brighter. "So, you're going to come or-"

"Yes!"

Or so I said, brimming with confidence too. But now as I sat on top of his bed, palms gripping onto my knees tightly, my thoughts wandered wildly to where this would lead us. Wagner waltz into the room, face still flushed from the amount of beers and ciders he had swallowed.

Rustling caught my attention; the man trying to —clumsily— untie the laces of his corset. The saliva welling in my throat felt heavy, I swallowed it before nearing his stumbling figure. "Would you like a hand, with that?" Wagner looked down at it for a second, accusing almost before relenting; his arms hanging limply by his sides.

Shakily, I held the ribbons, sweaty palms making me lose my grip on it. I let out a nervous laughter to which Wagner replied with a warm smile, my giggles fading, bright red blushing my cheeks.

We stood in silence, my fingers deftly working on the ties of the corset, metal clasps making a loud 'snap' sound that echoed in the room. I became aware that, the both of us are alone, in his room, whilst I was untying his corset and we're alone and I could see the chest hair peeking through from the laces of his shirt and

I have an erection.

'Fuck, why now,' I lamented, tilting my head back in frustration.

"Is everything alright, Schulz?"

And my erection grew harder, the way my name rolled off his tongue, albeit it came out slurred, was just incredibly sexy. My thighs shifting, trying my best to cover up said growing problem. Wagner however, was sober enough that he noticed the tent, proceeded to grope it, a drunken crooked smile creasing the corner of his lips.

"Wagner, wait!" At this, his hand stopped, the air becoming tense by the seconds. "You're not thinking right, let's send you to be-" my words were cut off with a simple punch to my shoulder, eyes wide as I looked at the taller man. "Schulz, you idiot. Why else do you think I invited you here?"

Oh.

I stared off to the side, feeling the embarassment creeping up my neck, unwilling to make any sort of eye contact with him. Calloused hand cradled my face, bringing me forward to look at him, warmth in his gaze as he lowered his head down, meeting my lips halfway.

The room, only lit by a candle, left us in darkness. Harsh breaths echoed in my ears as we deepened the kiss, my mouth clumsy against his own, experienced one. I let out a yelp when his hand brushed against my groin, making a shiver run down my spine.

Wagner's lips slowly moved away, leaving a trail of saliva and started to mouth at my neck, "You seem to enjoy this," he whispered with a tint of humour in his tone. "You don't even know the extent of it," I sighed out as his hand continues to rub against my cock.

A clank of metal and my cock was out, twitching upon hitting the cold air. The first stroke made me lean against the wooden wall, lips still attached on my neck, as Wagner leisurely jerk me off.

Hitched whines and gasp was the only sound that came out of me, his fingers lightly scratching the sensitive head before he flatted his palm against it, rubbing and rubbing until drool dribbled down my chin. "Fuck Wagner," I breathed out, eyes rolled back when he cupped my balls, rolling it in between his palm.

Suddenly, he ceased all of his doings, making me groan in frustration. "Can't have all the fun," untying the laces of his pants, Wagner sat on the bed; creaking under his weight, expectant as he looked at me. I gulped.

This was my first time doing anything remotely sexual afterall.

Kneeling in front of him hesitantly, I looked meeting the lust filled stare of his before opening my mouth and taking him whole. Which proved to be a mistake since moments later, I spluttered, choking on his length. Wagner's finger trailed over my throat, comforting, as his other hand slowly direct my head into motion.

Taking in his cock, inch by inch and with the help of Wagner, I was able to reach the base, breathing loudly at the effort taken. Wagner growled out a moan, the sound so feral making my own cock spasm. Mouth stretched open, painful yet pleasurable, I bobbed my head up and down, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat.

"Is this okay?" I asked, the words muffled and the only indication that Wagner was feeling anything, was the grip in my hair tightening. A popping sound echoed as I stopped to take a breather, momentary it seems when Wagner grabbed my head and started to fuck my mouth, leaving me gasping and holding onto his knees.

Just as sudden it happened, he halted, although his hips are still trying to buck into my throat. "Come on," was all the warning that he gave, dragging me up the bed effortlessly.

Wagner, now stripped fully, crawled over me, his whole figure encaging mine. A dip and a kiss and I was writhing under him, clawing at any muscled surface I could reach. Tongue licking stripes over my neck, chest, stomach, and finally settling against my taint, leaving me a shuddering mess. Lapping at my puckered hole, he inserted a finger making my whole body tense.

He studied my face for a while, inserting another finger in, rubbing and searching for something. "Ah!" Wagner smiled, knowing. He pressed down, stroking it over and over, pre-cum pooling at the tip of my cock, face now scarlet all over. Mouth wide open as I tried to suck in air, desperate before Wagner took his fingers out, leaving me craving and hole throbbing in need.

Arms laid limp by my side, reaching out to spread my cheeks revealing my hole to Wagner, “Please,” a sharp intake of breath and he was on top of me once again, stealing all my air with a kiss, hands clumsy on my waist. I moaned into the kiss when I felt the nudging of the tip of his cock against my hole.

Carefully, he pushed in, a gasp of pain released from my lips; breaking the kiss. Wagner braced an arm before leaning down, nipping and kissing my collarbones in an attempt to soothe my nerves down. It took minutes but finally, he was fully sheathed in. "Can I move?" Wagner breathed out, face scarlet and brows furrowed.

And with a nod, he moved. First, out all the way before going back in, making sure that I was opening up to his length. Tongue finds it to way my nipples, sucking in and sending jolts of pleasure, taking me away from the numbing pain.

He soon picked up his speed, brushing against that one spot, flashes behind my eyes. Muscled arms came to cradle my figure, bringing me closer to his chest as he slammed into me. Mouth wide open, a silent scream hitched, and with each thrusts I couldn't help but to just hang onto him.

Heat coiled in my gut and sweats trickled down my back; I am close, that I was certain of. Wagner seems to know that too, a warm palm circling my cock, jerking me in time with the thrust.

"Wagner, I, ah! I'm going to-" a kiss cut me off, moustache tickling against my chin. And with just a few more thrust of hips, I was cumming in his hand, stomachs splattered white and my insides filled.

We fell back into the bed, Wagner shifting his weight off of me, his cock slowly going soft in me. "Well, how's that for a first date," I laughed at that, Wagner letting out a huff. I let out a small whine when he pulled out of me. "Don't cry, there'll be a next time."

And to that, I looked at him, shocked.

"There's a next time?" My face was dusted red when Wagner gave me a look. "Of course there'll be a next time," hand ruffled my hair, making it unkempt even more. Smiling at him, I leaned forward to give him a kiss, Wagner grinning back into it.

"I like you too, Schulz."

#genshin impact npc #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin wagner #smut #smut fic

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vickyskpopkingdom · 3 years

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ATEEZ - From The Wonderland Pt.1

this story is based on ATEEZ' performance of wonderland on Kingdom: Legendary War. while i was writing it got a little out of hand and i wrote way more than anticipated so please keep an eye out for pt.2 and possibly pt.3. they well be up in a few days!

if you haven't you should definitely check all of the performances out, the link to ATEEZ' performance is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-uDitNeFO-I&t=183s&ab_channel=MnetK-POP so please do check it out, it is amazing.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

warnings: guns, swords, drinking and fighting

2k words

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While the ships in the harbor swam quietly above the water, swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the stone walls of the dock, the inside of the bar was much more loud and chaotic. The pirates took care of their ships but not so much of themselves. Beer, rum and wine seemed to flow endlessly, the bar staff barely keeping up with their customers.

This was a usual development of the evenings in the city. Pirates everywhere knew that they would be safe here, the town flourished thanks to them spending their money on alcohol, women and repairs for their ships. It never took long for the alcohol to take over, resulting in bar fights and various other showdowns or show-offs.

Two men sitting directly in front of the bar downed a shot of pure rum, before falling back into their previous conversation.

"The Kraken is a legend. Nothing more, nothing less. Probably made up by some pirate some centuries ago to make sure no one sails there to steal his treasure", the younger of the two said, his voice slightly cracking because of the amounts of alcohol already running through his body.

The other, slightly older but equally as drunk, shook his head, grabbing the wood of the bar to steady his swaying body. "Then tell me why no one who sailed there came back? I don't trust that part of the sea one bit, you hear me? Not one bit!"

A hiccup escaped his throat, as he called for a bartender with his hand. "We would like another round please", he ordered as the woman approached them. Then he looked back to his previous discussion partner. "It is real. And there is no one out there that could defeat The Kraken."

"It's a myth! Crafted to keep cowards like you away from what could be a huge treasure.", he other retorted.

Two small glasses were put down on the counter in front of them, the sound of glass hitting wood disrupting their conversation. "Both of you are wrong", the female bartender scoffed, "The Kraken was real and it was defeated."

Both men stopped their movements to look at her. The younger grinning from one ear to another, seemingly amused by the previous statement, while the older one eyed the bartender up and down. "And how would you know, lady?"

"What? Have you never heard of ATEEZ?", she asked back, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth now, "They slayed The Kraken."

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Hongjoong sat inside his most prized possession, his ship 'Wonderland', as he waited for the final object needed on his quest to arrive. Above him on the deck of the ship he could hear his crewmates running around, making finishing touches for departure. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of sailing out with his crew again, finally getting back on the sea after a break on land.

As the noises calmed down a little, Hongjoong could already tell that the supplier had arrived. His hunch turned out to be true, as the door to his private room opened and a man dressed in all black stepped inside. This was not their first meeting and as it also wouldn't be their last Hongjoong had already gotten used to the large black hat the person opposite to him wore that covered the most part of his face.

To say that he was curious to see that face would be an understatement. And yet he had never asked to see it. Hongjoong knew that sometimes secret had to be kept. Besides he certainly did not want to taint this relationship. It was way to beneficial.

Without a word spoken the man in black set down the object on Hongjoongs desk: an hourglass, held in a circle made of gold. The words 'Symphony No.9' were engraved on the circle, almost invisible to those who didn't know about their existence. Pearly white sand flowing freely from one side to another if turned right. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, to finally see the ominous hourglass on his own ship.

"Thank you. I appreciate your work", Hongjoon said, as he pulled a small leather bag from one of the drawers in his desk. Coins rattled against each other as the bag got exchanged form Hongjoongs hand to the gloved hand of the quiet man. "I will let you know, when I am searching for new objects."

At this the man in black nodded, tipped the brim of his hat at the Captain and left.

Hongjoong looked at the hourglass, smiling as he turned it over. The white sand started flowing down. "Show us the way, Symphony Number Nine."

As the Captain stepped out of his cabin, he could already see his crew ready on deck. The only thing they were waiting for was his 'go' and they would start sailing in an instant. By the atmosphere surrounding them, Hongjoong could already tell that they were just as excited as he was to see for themselves if the legendary treasure, the 'Symphony', was real. The legends surrounding its existence described it as one of the largest treasures out there. Shimmering gold coins, fiery red rubies and the finest silver swords were only few of the objects rumored to be part of the Symphony.

Hongjoong could feel the eyes of his crewmates on him. He couldn't hide his smile anymore as he finally said: "Let us start our journey, ATEEZ!"

Excited yells were the answer and everyone got to work. Soon the ship was leaving the harbor behind, the wind being on their side today.

As the captain, Hongjoong usually didn't have much to do with the actual sailing. He was more into planning their journey, making sure they had enough food and water and ordered his crew to stop at a nearby harbor to fill up their supplies if necessary. Today however he stood on deck with everyone else, breathing in the fresh air of the sea while trying to calm down his beating heart. It had been quite some time since him and his crew went on such a mysterious journey.

"Bring all of this below deck!", Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa ordering some of the lower ranked members of their crew. He turned around to see his right-hand man standing tall between the other crewmates, overlooking the whole process. Seonghwa was a reliable partner to Hongjoong, his right hand, who always kept his cool. Which was more than necessary because Hongjoong held intense pride for everything he did and could get into heated arguments with other pirates from time to time.

As if he had sensed something Seonghwa turned to look at Hongjoong. "You are still out here today? Don't you trust us, Captain?" His voice was calm, as always but Hongjoong could hear the teasing undertone.

"I trust all of you wholeheartedly. Just didn't want to miss our departure", he answered nonetheless. Seonghwa smiled warmly at him before walking over to Wooyoung who had called out for him.

Hongjoong let his eyes wander a little more over the deck, spotting Yunho who was currently training his sword-skills. Or at least he tried to do as much as he could with the limited resources he had to fight against. His enemy of choice were some thick ropes spun between the masts of the ship. The Captain had told Yunho countless times already that he was a skilled fighter especially with a sword, but Yunho always strived to do better.

"Don't tire yourself out too much, Yunho", Hongjoong finally spoke up as he approached the younger man, "We can not tell when we will arrive and I need you to be ready if we actually have to fight someone... or something."

Yunho cut through the centre of the ropes with a final strike. "Fine, fine. I'll tone it down a little." He smiled brightly at the captain before collecting the now cut ropes and knotting them to the masts again.

Sometimes Hongjoong felt as if he had adopted a puppy into his crew and not a 22 year old man.

"Hongjoong!", someone called for the Captain. He of course knew, that this voice belonged to San. His eyes found San and his bright pink hair standing at the ship's wheel as he was responsible for steering it. He waved for Hongjoong to come over.

On his way over to San, Hongjoong passed by Seonghwa once more who was now with Wooyoung. Similar to Yunho they were training. Well Wooyoung was training with a gun while Seonghwa gave him advice on the angle, the stance and the technique. Somehow the vice-captain had an incredible aim and a steady hand. Hongjoong would trust Seonghwa to shoot an apple off of his head.

Wooyoung wasn't quite there yet, he still had a long way to go to reach Seonghwas level of skill, but he was eager to learn and had improved highly ever since he started training his aim.

"You two as well? I guess, you can join Yunho in wasting your energy", Hongjoong sighed at them.

Seonghwa shrugged, pointing to Wooyoung. "It was his idea, not mine."

Wooyoung fired a shot at the makeshift target and almost hit the bullseye. "Ah~ so close! Did you see that Seonghwa? Was that one good? It was good, right?"

"Sorry, Woo. I was talking to Hongjoong and didn't pay attention to you."

"What? Oh my god Seonghwa, you are so mean!"

Hongjoong left the two to bicker among themselves and finally reached San. "Whats up?", he asked.

Just like the other crewmates San seemed to be filled to the brim with excitement. Which wasn't exactly something new or unusual. San, together with Yunho Wooyoung and Yeosang, whom Hongjoong had yet to spot on their big ship, were always giving high energy especially when they were all together.

"Just wanted to confirm our current route with you", San answered, gesturing towards the small table next to she steering wheel. On the wooden surface San had laid out a map covering most of the sea and of course the hourglass, which would lead their way. None of them knew exactly how it worked, but i seemed as if the sand inside the glass was drawn into a specific direction as long as it flowed down.

Hongjoong took a look at the white sand, comparing its flow with the direction of their ship and nodded. "Seems good to me. I think, you can work it out by yourself just fine, San."

San shrugged. "Better safe than sorry, right Captain?"

"Right, San", Hongjoong said, smiling. He knew that San worked hard to reach the level of skill he had now. No map was too complicated, too old, too ripped for San, somehow he was able to read them all. San had always gotten them to their destination safely and yet he still liked to check in with the Captain, making sure they were on the right path.

With a friendly pat on the head, after which San smiled proudly and most pleased, Hongjoong made his way down to the main deck again. Once more his eyes landed upon Yunho, who had stopped wielding his sword. Instead he was now bend over a black cloth. Next to him were the last two main crewmates, which Hongjoong had not yet seen after their departure: Jongho and Yeosang. Seeing those two and the mysterious black cloth reminded Hongjoong of something that he had entrusted them with. As he walked over to them he wondered, if they were already finished with their task.

"And what are you three plotting?", he greeted them as he arrived at their current position.

"Nothing much", said Yeosang, "Just showing Yunho our new flag."

So they were finished with their task. Hongjoong couldn't help but smile. Their old flag had been ripped during their last quest. Of course that wasn't something to stop ATEEZ from continuing, but Hongjoong had noticed that his crew's motivation had been higher while they were still in possession of their flag, their symbol, the sign which let others know that they were dealing with ATEEZ. And because of that he had asked Jongho and Yeosang to think about a new flag.

Hongjoong scanned the new flag. Similar to the previous one the background was black, appropriate for a pirateship, but this time Yeosang and Jongho had decided to paint the lettering, the word ATEEZ, in a fiery red. But there was something else that caught Hongjoon's eye: "Is that fire above our name?"

"Yes, but also no", Jongho started to explain, "It's supposed to resemble a crown that is on fire... or made out of fire. Whatever floats your boat, you know?"

To say that Hongjoong was impressed would be an understatement. He had always known that his members were creative, always thinking about what to do next and most importantly what would benefit their crew. There was a tight-knitted bond between the members of the core-crew, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, Jongho and Hongjoong himself, forged by their adventures on the sea. Somehow he felt as if the new logo, the fire, the crown, their name in red, combined all of their characters perfectly.

"It's time to hoist this new flag up, guys", Hongjoong ordered, "Let's show everyone who they're messing with."

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

Hongjoong was awoken by someone slamming his door open. By the dim light coming in from the outside of his room, he assumed that it was early morning, around five am maybe.

"Captain, I think we're here!", San's clear voice resonated into the room. There wouldn't be another crewmate up at this time of day anyways. At least up until now. During the last few days on their journey all of the crew had gotten more and more restless. Nobody could tell why, since there were no changes in their surrounding, but somehow they all were getting sure that their destination was close by.

Their intuition had not been wrong Hongjoong thought as he stepped out on deck and saw an island coming closer and closer to the ship with every second. His members stood by his side as they all watched the island draw closer. With a quick glance Hongjoong was pleased to see, that they were just as ready as him to step off the ship and get to finding the treasure. They were all dressed accordingly and Yunho and Seonghwa even had their weapons with them.

They couldn't help but feel an ominous feeling wash over them as Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung and Jongho landed on the island with a small boat. They had decided to leave the rest of their crew on board of the 'Wonderland'. Too many men could potentially be more dangerous and just the seven of them going alone. Besides that they were skilled and could handle fights by themselves, as they had proved countless times already.

They didn't regret this decision even as the dark forest loomed over them on the island, they never regretted a decision they had made. But neither of them could deny that a little more company would have felt more comfortable.

Hongjoong adjusted his long fur coat. It was a piece of clothing many deemed unfitting for such an adventure but Hongjoong felt most comfortable in it. He was the captain, he was talented, he was the leader, the brain. The fur coat wouldn't be an obstacle in whatever situation he had to face. "Let's find that damn treasure, ATEEZ!", he said as he took the first step towards the densely wooded forest. His crew followed suit.

A shiver creeped up on Wooyungs back as the trees started to surround them. During the first few minutes his mind was busy to figure out what was so confusing about this forest. Something was off, wrong almost but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then finally it clicked: There were no noises. No birds singing, not any other animal making a sound. No wind flowing through the leaves. Even the sound of their shoes on the forest floor seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness around them.

Of course they had heard rumors about this island. And there were many. One talked about the treasure being cursed, bringing the finder only harm and misfortune. Another said that the treasure was being guarded by a giant kraken. And the most popular of them all of course told them that no one who stepped a foot on this island was able to return back home. All of these rumors could be true Wooyoung now realized. This was definitely the right place to hide a cursed treasure guarded by a kraken with a preference for humans.

Wooyung realized that his friends must have felt the same way. None of them dared to talk. Every single spoken word would have felt too loud in this forest. But on the other hand there was no denying that this was the right place to hide a treasure! And up until now they had always been successful on their adventures. Their teamwork was outstanding, no one could compare. They had risen in ranks ever since they started sailing. There was no way that this would be their breaking point.

The cracking sound of a stick made Wooyoung flinch. He was a little ashamed but was instantly less embarrassed when he saw how Yunho clutched at San's biceps. Just as he was about to point this out though, Seonghwa hissed a "Someones's coming" to no one in particular. Wooyoung could see how the older already laid a hand on his sniper.

Without talking the pirates stood in a circle, their backs to each other. It was quiet again, somehow the silence felt even more heavy than before.

Suddenly even more tree branches cracked, Wooyoung could even hear footsteps approaching them. This time he didn't need Seonghwa to tell him that someone was on their way. He could hear them himself, loud and clear. Someone was coming. They were fast. And they were many.

People started breaking through the trees attacking ATEEZ on sight. As he ducked under a thrown fist Wooyoung made a mental note to thank Hongjoong and Seonghwa later for training them so hard in hand-to-hand combat before they started sailing all those years ago. He was able to avoid another punch and in turn could kick his enemy off of his feet, making them fall to the ground with thud and, Wooyoung noticed in horror, an extremely loud cracking noise. Now that his sole focus wasn't on dodging he was able to get a good look at their enemies. They were around the same height as him and his friends but there was no flesh, no hair, no skin, not even eyes in their sockets. They were fighting a bunch of skeletons. The one Wooyoung had previously thrown on the ground was no longer moving. It seemed to had landed on a rock of some sort and cracked its spine.

As he looked around Wooyoung noticed that breaking their bones seemed to be the only way of getting them to stop fighting. His crewmates were struggling with the skeletons because simply pushing them back or slicing into the bones wasn't enough to keep them back. They didn't feel pain.

"Break their spine or their legs!", Wooyoung called out, while trying to escape the boney hands of another skeleton approaching him, "They need to be unable to move."

At this exclamation San aimed a swift kick at the head of his enemy. The skull made an ugly noise as it dislocated from the rest of the body and landed on the ground. The skeleton stopped moving before falling collapsing.

"Yeah, I guess the head works too", Wooyoung commented.

"You should concentrate!", Seonghwa barked back, but even he couldn't help a small grin making its way onto his lips.

As it turned out his call to focus wasn't without reason. Wooyoung struggled more and more with every punch, with every kick. He was getting exhausted, feeling the hits the skeletons were able to land on him while his enemies remained unbothered at anything that wasn't cracking them in half. He could hear Jongho's heavy breathing behind him and saw Yeosang limping. This was not going well. Not at all.

He wanted to help his friends but he was equally beat up. Still Yeosang definitely needed help. Wooyoung took a step towards his friend and felt a hand closing around his arm. Slender bones held him in his current spot, as another set of bones wrapped around both of his legs. How could these people only made out of bones be so strong?

A yelp escaped his lips as more and more hands got hold of his body. Yeosang, who Wooyoung wanted to originally help, turned around. He realized what was happening to Wooyoung and started to run towards him but it was too late. The skeletons dragged Wooyung with them. Yeosang was still struggling with his limp, unable to follow them.

"They have Wooyoung!", he cried out, panic clearly audible in his voice. If he wasn't used to one thing it was seeing Wooyoung like this; helpless, alone, frightened. Normally Yeosang would not have distracted his other friends from their own fights like that but this situation was different. All of the rumors they had heard before came back to his mind at once, his worry for Wooyoung only increasing.

Hongjoong broke from their circle and sprinted into the woods, following the skeletons who had captured Wooyoung.

"San, no!", Seonghwa's voice resonated over their heads. Yeosang turned around to see San, who was also trying to leave into the same direction.

"He can't fight them all alone, Seonghwa!", San called back.

"They are leaving...", Jongho panted. He made a sweeping gesture around them. Their attention diverted to their surroundings. The youngest had been right. The skeletons retreated back into the forest, using different directions as they ran.

"Then it should be fine for me to go find Hongjoong and Wooyoung", San stated, already starting to walk again.

Seonghwa opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by someone-- something screeching.

All of them froze. That was a noise they had never heard before and Yeosang was more than sure that he never wanted to hear it ever again. It sounded angry, it shook him to his core. Yunho and Jongho seemed to have the same reaction as him, while San was still staring towards the part of the forest, that he suspected their other two crewmates in. Seonghwa on the other hand had a grim look on his face.

"I guess, that rumor about a kraken wasn't just a rumor after all."

Before one of them could react to his statement in any way, Seonghwa looked at Yeosang. "Are you able to walk?"

Yeosang tried to put weight on his right foot. It hurt but it seemed to be endurable. "I don't think I can run, but walking should be fine."

"Then we will all follow Hongjoong and Wooyoung. Don't try running off on your own, San, do you hear me?"

San didn't answer Seonghwa, he only kept on looking into the forest.

"Did you hear what I just said, San?", Seonghwa asked again, sounding even more stern this time.

"Yes, I did. And I won't run off."

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

that concludes part 1 of this story, hope you enjoyed it so far & will come back to read the rest!

sorry for not including mingi but as he is not part of the performance i would have found it very difficult to add him as well. i already feel bad because i gave the members different "screentime" in this story (my program tells me i wrote "wooyoung" 21 times, followed by "seonghwa" with 12 times and "hongjoong" and "yeosang" with 10 times each).

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exofilialovercat · 3 years

Text

Azrael (Draconian boy) x Gabriela (human girl)

Welcome to my first monster love writing! It has been long since did this one, and I wanted to share this old thing than i wrote whit and online friend!

Gabriela knew things were not good between them. But she didn't wanted to believe he will choose today to break up with her.

He said the typical "I need space, I'm confused... we almost do not have time for us" . She knew it was bulshit, she knew he would probably run in the arms of a girl a lot prettier than her and probably a lot more empty brained. He avoided her like the plague in the last months and he looked every day better (More gym, more expensive clothes, you name it). Gaby ended alone in the park, with her heart broken, trying to calm her anger . I guess at least i can go for a drink . She walked into a bar and sat, decided to buy the biggest sugar coated smoothie they had.... and put some vodka on it maybe.

Azrael's head was spinning. He thought a job working as a bartender would be more glamorous than it had turned out to be in his first week. Instead of learning to elegantly craft fancy cocktails he had been forced to haul heavy kegs of beer from the cellar and to dodge crowds of rowdy drunks as best he could while running trays of food and drink to tables the senior barkeeps did not want to bother with. Today he even was sent to break up a fight that was starting up between two belligerent customers arguing over a game of darts. Thankfully Ozzie's unique appearance usually helped with things like this. Throwing himself between the two patrons, the draconian flared his wings out so they could not get to each other and roared for them to behave themselves.... Unfortunately his wings knocked into a nearby table, accidentally sending a brightly-colored frozen drink flying into the lovely young lady who had ordered it some minutes ago and spilling it all over her top.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry miss!" He stammered, swearing that the pale blue scales on his face were blushing red as he offered her a towel and prayed that it would not leave a stain.

Gaby froze when she felt the thing in almost slow motion staining all her top shirt. Oh great... can something else go bad today?... Please Gaby don't be the shitty customer that yells at the waiter... dont... . Gaby felt the hot tears filling her eyes , her face twisted in sadness and let herself cry like an idiot .

Oh no! He had made her cry! Panicking, Ozzie desperately tried to help the distraught woman clean her shirt, all the while apologizing again and again and cursing himself for being clumsy. When it became obvious that no amount of paper towels or washcloths would save her top, Azrael had a thought. "Miss, please let me make this up to you. We have a small washing machine in the back for our uniforms. Let me get you another drink and I will lend you my shirt while yours is cleaned" He offered hopefully.

"It's okay.... It's not... Thank you" she said between sobs . She tried to compose herself, at least someone was kind to her today . She followed him .

Leading her through the crowd, he took the pretty young woman to the employee lockers in the back of the house, shooting the head bartender a warning look and narrowing his eyes when she made a joking comment about him moving fast already getting a girl out of her clothes.

"Please don't mind her. Maricela has a terrible sense of humor." He said, trying to keep a very lovely image out of his head and stop his tail from unwinding from around his waist and wagging at the mental image.

Once they were in the break room Ozzie offered the girl his spare shirt from his locker, a button-down white oxford that would likely be long enough to double as a short dress on her before stepping out to let her switch clothes. "I'm Azrael, by the way. Ozzie to my friends." He called over his shoulder.

"Ozzie... I'm Gaby" she said and changed, handing him the dirty top . "Sorry for crying... i just had an horrible day, not your fault really "

"Nice to meet you Gaby." He replied with a self-conscious smile, trying to hide the pointed teeth he had inherited from his mother. "If you want, I am happy to listen to your story. Sharing your sadness with a sympathetic ear can sometimes make it better, after all."

While he was talking Azrael tossed Gaby's shirt into what was supposed to be an empty washer and closed the lid to start the machine up.

"Would you like a drink or something to eat while you wait?" He offered, smiling for her again in spite of himself.

"Well .... okay" she came for that anyway. Maybe talking (and crying) was the best way to feel better . Ordering a new strawberry milk smoothie and siping from time to time, she told him about his day . "... And Im im pretty sure he is with another girl in this instant, i'm not stupid"

He brought her a replacement drink and sat with her on the sofa in the breakroom while Gaby told her story, growing visibly more angry as she got to the part where her boyfriend as good as left her for another woman until a thin trail of smoke started trailing up from his mouth through clenched teeth. "Absolutely unforgivable! He must either be blind, an idiot, or both if he could even think of another woman when he has someone as wonderful as you!" He said vehemently, the tip of his tail smacking against the ground in anger as he spoke.

" Ozzie... you are fine? you are gonna turn the fire alarm ... " she felt amused , he was too sweet for someone so scary at first sight "Thank you , you are too sweet..."

Realizing that he was smoking, Azrael quickly took a glass of water and drank it down to stop the smoke, looking down and running one hand idly along his horns in embarrassment. "Sorry, a bad habit from my mother. I promise not to start any fires." He said with what he hoped was a playful wink. "No, thank you for talking to me even after a less than ideal introduction Gaby."

"You mom is draconian too? I think you are the first draconian I have met " she smiled at his wink. ‘Too cute and I'm such a mess....’

"Oh no, she's a full dragon. Wings, breathes fire, giant pile of gold and jewels, the whole shebang." Azrael laughed. "Dad always joked that he liked her better than the princess he was supposed to save." He added, rolling his bright gold eyes at the memory of his dad's bad jokes from when he was a kid.

"Whoa, a knight and a dragon... that's a story to tell ! " her mind tried to take her to cri again but she fighted it . Screw mister perfect she waved her troughs away.

"A knight? Oh no, he's a history professor at the local university." Ozzie laughed. "Maybe-" He was cut off by the buzzer signaling the end of the wash cycle.

"Oh, there is. !" she lamented don't having more excuses to talk to the draconian man. He had to work anyway .....

"Ah, there it is." Azrael echoed, not able to completely hide his disappointment at losing his excuse to talk to Gaby. "Hopefully the stain didn't set in." He thought aloud, reaching into the washer and pulling out a deep wine red tablecloth... wait...

"Oh no no no no no!" Ozzie cursed under his breath, looking in and seeing that whoever was supposed to hang the linens they used for the tables had left them in the machine the night before and now Gaby's shirt was completely dyed a bright pink!

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Gaby! I am such an idiot for not looking!" He cursed himself, hanging his head in shame. He just couldn't stop messing up! Now he was bound to have made a lovely lady cry again.

Gaby looked at the man and the now pink top .... and she couldn't help laugh. it was a good laugh, she had to hold her belly "Oh god, Ozzie" she laughed again "Don't worry .... " she breathed deep "You made me laugh , that's more that i can ask " she said to the mortified draconian.

If he could have, he would have curled into a ball and disappeared, but at least Gaby was laughing. A smile was so much nicer on her than tears. "At the very least let me take you shopping for a replacement." He offered hopefully. "Maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh, you don't have to... you have been too kind.... " she thinked "Well, only if i can invite you something later." She took her phone and passed it to him "And that's not discussable . Save your number! "

"Whatever you want. I'm yours... er... at your service." He stammered, smiling doubly as he keyed in his phone number and handed it back to her before offering her his to do the same. "Does noon sound alright?"

"I'm a freelancer , i can fix my schedule no problem " she smiled "Thank you Ozzie. i will give you back this tomorrow" she grabbed her things and the now pink shirt. She gave him a quick peek on the cheek "Thanks for cheering me up ! You are a great guy "

"It 's a date!"

Ozzie spent the rest of the night smiling from ear to ear, not even minding the jokes he had to endure at the hands of the other employees. As far as he cared tomorrow couldn't get here fast enough! .

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #draconian #monster writing #monster lover #my post #azrael

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fictionadventurer · 4 years

Text

Christmastime Again: A Hallmark Sci Fi Presentation

When the room stopped spinning, Lacey found herself on Christmas morning again. The guests had all arrived, the tree was standing and a light snow was just starting to fall out the window. The start of a picture-perfect Christmas.

As long as she kept it that way.

Alright, from the top.

By now, she could navigate the first part of the day by muscle memory. Scoop up the cat and lock her in the carrier in the laundry room. Straighten the rug and move Uncle Wendell��s beer stein away from the edge of the counter. Turn down the Christmas music just in time to hear the timer buzz and bring the turkey out of the oven at the peak of golden-brown perfection. Stash the cookies out of toddler-reach and get every child at the craft table a red crayon before the hair-pulling started.

Since she could navigate these hours without thinking, her brain was alert to the rest of her surroundings, watching for any unexpected ripples that could upset this version of the Christmas timeline. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except for the stares of the guy in the sweater. She’d heard his name--Julian, some cousin of her sister-in-law who had nowhere else to go--but it was hard to remember it when her senses were distracted by the ugly sweater. It wasn’t cute ugly or ironically ugly; it was “I was raised by color-blind trolls” ugly. All beige and orange and yellow, displaying a big fuzzy reindeer with lopsided button eyes and trimmed with bits of bright green tinsel. If she could have made the loop go further back, Lacey might have tried to prevent him from wearing it. But she could only control the things that took place in this house today, so the sweater stayed, assaulting her eyeballs at every turn.

Not that the guy himself was hard on the eyes. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw shadowed by neatly-trimmed stubble, he had a boy-next-door appeal--if the boy next door happened to be working as a model for the world’s worst sweater company. In the opinion of Lacey’s sister-in-law, Julian was only single because he was married to his work in some university department, but Lacey doubted that was the reason. If he stared at all women the way he was staring at her, the women had good reason to keep their distance.

Dinner was served and eaten with no mishaps. Cleanup was a breeze. Presents were handed out and unwrapped without disaster. And she still, in quiet moments, caught Julian studying her with unusual intensity. What was up with him? He hadn’t done this on previous loops--or maybe she’d just been too distracted to notice it. If he didn’t stop it soon, she’d miss a cue, tumble into disaster, and have to live this day all over again.

While the rest of the family wandered into the dining room for refreshments, Lacey stayed near the tree, picking up the last bits of wrapping paper and defending the tree from the handful of kids playing with their new toys. She moved on reflex, deflecting a rubber ball, a foam dart, a runaway remote-control car. One, two, three, like a dance, and then on beat four, in perfect time, she pivoted on one foot to catch a ball of crumpled wrapping paper.

And found herself nose-to-nose with Julian, his hand around her outstretched wrist.

Those blue eyes stared into hers. “You’ve lived this day before.”

It wasn’t a question or a joke. It was a statement of fact.

Lacey met that gaze straight-on. “What did you say you teach at the university?”

“Temporal mechanics.”

“Ah.” Lacey dropped the wrapping paper.

He let go of her wrist. “I don’t have much practical experience, but when I see my hostess unexpectedly developing superhuman reflexes and responding to statements before they’re spoken, I start to think that either she’s the world’s most boring psychic, or she’s making use of that pretty little bangle on her arm that looks alarmingly like an antique temporal elastic.”

Lacey tugged her sweater sleeve over the twisted copper casing and red control stones of her overworked time travel device. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“How many times have you done this loop?”

Lacey pushed up her sleeve and counted the tally marks on her arm. “52.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s almost two months of Christmas Day.”

Lacey’s shoulders fell. “I am sick to death of turkey.”

A silence fell between them that was louder than the chatter from the dining room. Finally, he straightened the sleeve of the Ugly Sweater and said, “Putting aside your obvious mental instability and the frankly fascinating paradox storm that must be swirling around us at the moment--remind me to bring some instruments here within the next twenty-four hours--I have to ask: Why?”

She looked at a fragment of ribbon on the carpet and rasped, “I have to get it right.”

The crowd started trickling back in, pooling around the couches while holding plates of goodies and glasses of wine.

As the noise rose, Julian gave her a significant glance “I think we should talk about this somewhere quieter.”

She stepped back, brushing the tree. “I don’t need to go anywhere with you.”

“I think you do. You’ve got two months of memories to work through. You can’t keep that to yourself. You’ll go crazy.”

He wasn’t wrong. She had already learned why the Guild recommended against these sorts of changes--holding onto these alternate timelines was exhausting. She could do with a debrief.

But she had no time for a break. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m hostess.”

“They can look after themselves for half an hour.” Julian opened the door to the hall and waved her through. “And if not?” He shrugged. “What’s one more loop?”

It was an odd kind of Christmas weather--cold enough to send fluffy flakes scattering, but warm enough that they needed only earmuffs and scarves and didn’t even bother zipping up their light jackets. She lounged with Julian on the wood steps of the back porch, watching the flakes fall while they sipped at mulled wine.

Julian threw back his head and laughed as Lacey finished telling him about one of the earliest of her failed Christmases. “The whole tree?” he gasped. “The cat just--” He held one arm upright and used the other to mime a cat clamping onto the tree and sending it toppling. “Why did you redo that one? No one would have forgotten that Christmas.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

He sobered. “The cat didn’t get hurt, did it?”

“No, Fluffy was fine.”

“Anyone else injured?”

“No. “

“Property damage? Lost family heirlooms?”

“No. It was a gentle fall, and the only family ornaments on that tree were the pom-pom panda bears. They're resilient.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem?” Only a guy who wore reindeer sweaters would need this concept explained. “The problem is that no one wants the Christmas party interrupted by a toppling tree. It’s a nightmare. Chaos.”

“But memorable.”

“No one wants those types of memories.”

“Those are the only ones people actually remember. If Christmas goes smoothly, everyone forgets it in a month or two. But ‘the year Lacey’s cat took down the tree’? They’d go back to that story for years.”

“How does that make it better? I don’t want them constantly rehashing my failures as a hostess.”

“How is that failing? You provided good food, a comfortable home, a lovely tree. That’s not changed by a few mishaps.”

“This was more than a few mishaps.”

“Only because you’ve done it fifty-two times.” He leaned back against the wall of the house and lifted the steaming mug closer to his face. “What gave you this idea that Christmas has to be perfect?”

She twisted the time travel bangle on her wrist. “My mom...she died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed a lump. “She always hosted these perfect Christmas parties. She’d plan them for months and everything just ran like clockwork.”

His eyebrows rose. He pointed toward the bangle. “Did she...?”

Lacey pushed it beneath her sleeve. “No, never. We never knew it existed until we were going through my grandma’s things a few years ago.”

He relaxed. “That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to get this place declared a temporal wasteland.”

Lacey chuckled. “Even if she’d had it, she wouldn’t have needed it. Her parties were works of art. Beautiful decorations, perfect food, everyone laughing and singing carols by the end of the night. When I asked her why she did it, she told me, ‘Lacey, these people are giving you their Christmas. It’s your job to give them the best Christmas you can.’” She sipped at her mug to swallow back tears. “When she died, that job fell to me. And when everything went wrong, I had to fix it.”

“Fifty-two times.”

She shrugged. “As many times as it took.”

“I doubt she’d have said your duties extended that far.”

“You’re probably right. But once I went in quest of the perfect Christmas, I couldn’t settle for anything less. It would have felt like dishonoring her memory.”

“It wouldn’t have been. I’m sure her Christmases had plenty of flaws.”

“Not as many as mine.”

Julian ran a finger along the edge of his mug. “You have this idea that everyone wants a Christmas of picture-perfect trees and crackling fires and cozy rooms without a speck of dust out of place. But if they wanted that, they could stay at home and look at pictures on the streambox. They come here because they want your Christmas. Burnt turkeys and cat-toppled trees and all. They want you experiencing it with them. Not fifty-two alternate versions of them.”

She fingered the fringe on the edge of her scarf. “I suppose not. But what’s wrong with trying for the perfect Christmas?”

“Lacey, there’s no such thing as the perfect Christmas. There’s never been one at any time, anywhere in the world.” He bunched up snow in one hand and tossed it into the darkness. “Even the first Christmas wasn’t perfect. Do you think Mary planned to let her child sleep in a feeding trough? Do you think Joseph planned to let strange shepherds gawk at his son? It was one long exercise in embracing the unexpected, and it created one of the most memorable stories in human history. Do you think your mother would call that a failure?”

This had gotten more abstract than Lacey had expected. A little dazed, she said, “No. No, of course not.”

“You want to control every little detail, but no one can do that.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You don’t get the perfect Christmas by crafting it. You get it by appreciating the one you’re given.”

She knit her fingers into his. “A gift,” Lacey said.

He smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

They stepped into the laundry room together, brushing the snowflakes out of their hair.

Julian held up his mug, which held one last swallow of wine. “To Christmas,” he said.

Lacey clinked her mug against his. “Whatever we’re given.”

Throwing back their heads, they drained the dregs, then set the empty mugs on the window ledge.

Then hand in hand, they crouched down and let Fluffy out of her cage.

#adventures in writing #the sci fi christmas special saga #hallmark #christmas #yes i'm publishing a christmas story on halloween #this is my blog i can do what i want #i'm just surprised that this came together as easily as it did and i'm riding this high #and yes it's not really sci fi just an ever so slightly tilted version of the usual fantasy plot #but it gave me a chance to make fun of hallmark tropes while also fully indulging my every saccharine impulse #so thank you for putting up with me

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 4 years

Text

Why So Jaded Chapter 8

FFN AO3

Enjoy.

Chapter 8

Violet was all too happy to get Buddy out of SEB and even let him drive her SUV to where they needed to go on her first official "Raid Day". Where all the "spiders" would be "sleeping" and it would give Buddy and Violet some breathing room.

"Oh my God, may the heavens themselves bless you, I almost forgot how nice it is to drive and not be driven around everywhere." Buddy thanked her gratefully as he drove her very nice SUV around Metroville, surprisingly remembering his way around here as he marveled at how the city had grown and developed since he drove around in it last.

"So are we clear?" Buddy breathed.

"Yes, all the "spiders" are sleeping. They're not gone but they're sleeping. And I've been practicing turning some that Phillip doesn't control and isn't keeping track of off and on again along with every other one I can get my hands on so I can turn them on and off on my own." Violet divulged.

"You do realize that you are officially the coolest person I know right? Like that is mind blowing cool." Buddy told her which got her to giggle as he drove them to their first destination because Buddy had surprised Violet with breakfast in his apartment.

"Thanks, I try, I just needed to witness them being put to sleep in order to figure out how to do it. Because all I've been able to do before is just know that they're on and where they are. But that's it, I mean there have been a few that I've purposefully overpowered and fried. Like turning a burner on its highest setting. But I hadn't been able to figure out how to turn it down." Violet continued.

"That's a really good metaphor." Buddy realized.

"Thanks." Violet grinned and Buddy looked over to see her hand resting on her arm rest and resisted the urge to just reach over and hold her hand before they went to a butcher shop to get their main course as Buddy was all too happy to give her some pointers and how to pick out a great steak or chop, and then it was onto a Merry Cherry to order a good cake for dessert that Violet would be picking up Saturday morning and then to a big box store to get all kinds of things, from a playpen and toys for the kids to other ingredients and then they stopped for lunch at one of Violet's favorite places to get lunch on her days off when she wasn't in a suit, which was a 'FUBU' Mexican place which she explained was a "For Us, By Us" Mexican place and Buddy was impressed when she spoke flawless Spanish in ordering for them.

"How many languages do you speak?" Buddy asked.

"A lot." Violet answered.

"How many is 'a lot'." Buddy posed curiously.

"Take a guess." Violet prompted.

"Obviously, at least two." Buddy guessed as he dug into the chips and salsa.

"Higher." Violet gestured for him to up his guess as she helped him decimate the delicious chips and salsa because both were super fresh and delicious.

"Five?" Buddy blinked and his eyebrows rose in surprise when she gestured to go higher.

"Ten?" Buddy pressed.

"Close, 12, complete fluent languages."

"What are they? Can you tell me?" Buddy prodded.

"English, Latin- and it's the Latin that made learning Italian and Spanish a breeze but I learned Mexican Spanish first and then Spain Spanish second. Let's see- I know French, Turkish, Arabic, Chinese Mandarin, Japanese, Korean, Russian and lastly Portuguese, I know bits and pieces of Swedish, German, Hindi and Greek. So technically more like 16. But I have to because Phillip is a world traveler and businessman and wants to make sure that he understands what everyone around him is saying, because again, paranoid." Violet explained.

"That and I already knew most of those before I ever worked for him because of my other work." Violet shrugged nonchalantly.

"And that's why you're the best at what you do." Buddy realized.

"It's one of the things, yes." Violet agreed before their tacos and other ingredients were brought out.

"Ok, these tacos are already amazing but to make them better, squeeze the lime to cut the fat, a spoonful of rice, a scoop of refried beans, a dash of mole, cover in queso, and just a dab of the green salsa unless you love really spicy then add the red and viola, the perfect taco." Violet urged as she did what she preferred to her own tacos as Buddy copied her pattern as they lifted their tacos and bumped them together.

"Cheers," they both smiled at each other before they each took their first bites before Buddy outright moaned and Violet giggled again and hummed in agreement.

"Oh, oh this is amazing." Buddy praised between mouthfuls.

"Now you see why I like to come here. FUBU anything is always better than the "mainstream" version and these are handmade, hand pressed corn tortillas that were being made as we were ordering and you always double up on the tortillas." Violet appraised.

"How many other little gems like this have you found in the city?" Buddy asked.

"Oh, dozens. Any and every kind of ethnic food you can think of, all of them 'FUBU's' . A year ago, in an effort to get a break from all the spiders, I would take myself out to lunch all on my own, I'd leave all the electronics in the car and park it like down the street and sometimes over a street from where I was really going and take like an hour and a half lunches, trying to find all these little hole in the wall places where there wasn't so many watching eyes and listening ears. And along the way, I found some amazing food and then I never showed any of them to him. Because I didn't want him to invade what little spaces of freedom and breathing room I had found. Not that he would be caught dead in any eatery that didn't have a five star rating and at least one Michelin star."

"So why are you bringing me to a place like this?" Buddy asked.

"Because I have a very good feeling you won't invade them. That you'll appreciate sharing them with me, and if anything happens and I disappear, it'll be one of the few places I'll reappear in." Violet answered softly.

"Well, count me honored and privileged then and if I'm ever in a position that I think I'm being tailed, I won't come anywhere near here or anywhere else you would take me, cause I would hate for an invasion, much less an infestation to take place." Buddy vowed.

"Good." Violet smiled appreciatively.

Once they finished lunch, which ended up taking a few hours because they got lost in conversation, they went to Violet's favorite wine and liquor store that was huge because they had everything under the sun where Buddy felt like a kid in a candy store as Violet showed him all her favorites and made suggestions based on his chosen menu and Buddy noticed that the more the day progressed, the closer to him she came, to the point that she was always taking his arm when they were walking side by side or simply standing looking at wines and other spirits and he was all too happy to get her doors for her and did his best to be a perfect gentleman which Violet appreciated and it was there in the cold room of the liquor store where Violet and Buddy were staring at one of many walls of floor to ceiling craft beer before none other than Keith and Greg showed up since they just got off of work and stopped in their tracks and stared when they saw Buddy in there with Violet as they huddled together in the cold room, trying to pick out beers but Violet didn't really drink beer and Buddy didn't either so they weren't sure what exactly they were looking at.

"Bud?" They called out before Buddy turned his head.

"Hey guys." Buddy greeted happily as Violet put on a friendly smile since she had already been running background checks on them and recognized them from meeting them in Vegas when Buddy had introduced them to her formally at the casino.

"Are you out on a walk?" They teased Buddy.

"He is, I figured if I held his hand, he wouldn't have to be on a leash." Violet answered with a shit eating grin which got them all to laugh as she slipped her hand into Buddy's and held it for emphasis but wouldn't let it go and Buddy was unbelievably pleased about that and gently squeezed it a little in appreciation.

"It would look a little strange." Greg allowed.

"Especially when he has to wear a shock collar to go with it." Violet clicked her teeth with a wink that got all of them to erupt into further laughter as Buddy's cheeks were beet red along with his ears and suddenly the cold room wasn't so cold anymore.

"So you're into that kind of thing?" Keith teased Violet.

"No, it was just a dig." Violet answered with a shake of her head.

"Damn." Buddy sarcastically snapped his fingers in his other hand in mock disappointment as Violet raised a challenging brow at him.

"I mean, whew, am I glad you're not." Buddy re-answered with a cheesy grin which earned some snickers from his friends as Violet just chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm gonna go back out and check out the cordials with the cart and warm back up, you guys can stay and pick out beer, help him pick out something you guys will like and enjoy on Saturday." Violet offered sweetly before she excused herself and Buddy immediately missed her by his side.

"Dude!" Keith quietly congratulated as he came and did the handshake hug with Buddy.

"Bud, be careful, you're playing with fire." Greg warned as he did the same.

"I know there's a risk for both of us, that's why we're just friends." Buddy reassured Greg.

"You didn't look "just friends" when we came in, you guys looked like 'cute couple' and even 'wow what's a dime like her doing with a nickel like him'." Keith murmured as he got to work getting some really good beers for Buddy to take to Violet which earned a humph from Buddy.

"Really? I'm a five." Buddy deadpanned.

"Four, five was generous." Greg added with a playful punch to the shoulder as Buddy gave him an unimpressed look.

"Sad part is I agree. So what beers should we get?" Buddy asked.

"Oh Dragon's Milk for sure. We need to cover the bases, we need to get a good stout or two, perhaps a porter, maybe a couple of lagers and pilsners and IPA's to round it out." Keith urged as he started pulling out what looked good.

"You and craft beers." Greg just shook his head at Keith who started handing him six packs and four packs before he handed the others to Buddy to hold.

"Yeah, but I'm grateful because anything other than whiskey or vodka and I'm lost." Buddy shrugged.

"Speaking of how are you doing with that?" Greg asked.

"Doing good, surprisingly." Buddy answered honestly.

"Well with a tall glass of water like the one you're with. I'd think you'd want to stay sober so you don't miss a second of her." Keith answered before he snagged two dessert beers himself.

"This is true." Buddy agreed with a fond grin.

"You know, even though she's kind of off limits. She did look pretty happy with you and vice versa. Whenever I see her with Phillip, she looks so serious and looks like she's just always on and always working and can't relax. With you it's like she's just hanging out and it's a lot more casual." Keith appraised.

"And you would be absolutely right and that's why she likes hanging out with me more than him." Buddy grinned victoriously.

"Just don't screw the pooch by screwing the boss' pet." Greg warned.

"Like I said, just friends...so far." Buddy admitted as he tried to keep his smile in check because the thought of anything more was too much to hope for yet strangely well within reach.

"So you've thought about it." Greg prodded.

"Yeah, I mean I'm still alive and have a pulse don't I?" Buddy returned as his friends hummed and murmured their agreement to that sentiment.

"Yeah I thought I saw your smile grow a little brighter when she held your hand and teased you like a proper girlfriend." Keith grinned.

"Ok, I don't know about you guys but I'm freezing my ass off in here, can we be done? Please?" Buddy requested before Keith grabbed one more.

"Yes, now we're done." Keith assured him as the three managed to get out and look through the store for Violet who was perusing the cheeses because the liquor store had a couture snack market to go with all the wine and spirits and had a really good selection and was putting some cheeses and crackers together and was getting hit on by some guy who was trying to lean into her personal space while he spit his best game at her and judging by her own body language, she was doing what she could to ignore him.

"Here's your chance, play her boyfriend and scare off the creeper, do it, do it, do it!" Keith urged in an excited whisper to Buddy who was already picking up his steps to come to her rescue.

"Honey? You pick out the cheeses you wanted?" Buddy took a chance and asked as he slipped the beer into the cart next to her and the smile Violet gave him was pure magic.

"Almost, I can't decide between the brie and the camembert. Did you guys get enough beer?" Violet giggled as Keith and Greg unloaded their beers into the cart too as she held up the cheeses in question to Buddy.

"I think we should get both." Buddy decided.

"Very smart decision Dear. I knew there was a reason I married you." Violet cooed as she stole into his side after she slipped them into the basket of the cart with the others.

"Oh, I..I didn't see a…" the guy tried to say as he started backing up at the sight of Buddy and his friends around him and knew he was outmanned and outgunned.

"Oh it's at the jewelers, one of the accent diamonds was coming loose." Violet waived off. "You ready to check out Handsome?" Violet urged Buddy as she practically moved Buddy into place pushing the cart so she could still wrap her hand around the crook of his elbow as he pushed it.

"If you are Darlin." Buddy answered as he followed her lead.

"Then let's go." Violet agreed as they walked to the check out as Violet let her head fall on Buddy's shoulder as they waited in line before she kissed his shoulder.

"Thanks for the save." Violet thanked him as she let her lips linger there and the utter delight in her eyes had Buddy hoping and praying and wishing on every lucky star he had that one day he'd make that a reality.

"You're welcome." Buddy answered before he took a chance and kissed her forehead sweetly which practically made her beam a happy smile at him as Keith and Greg knew then, that there were serious sparks there and were torn between being happy for their friend yet terrified for them both.

"You guys are gonna help us load all this up right?" Violet put to Keith and Greg who were buying their own packs of beer as they stood in line behind Violet and Buddy.

"Yeah, of course." They agreed from their place behind them and once through the line, the guys did their best "Tetris" it all into the back of Violet's SUV with everything else they had bought.

"Guys, it would be appreciated if not a word is breathed about what happened in there." Buddy reminded his friends as Violet was happy and relieved that he said something instead of her having to.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Greg answered.

"I didn't even know anything even happened." Keith shrugged.

"Thanks guys." Violet answered appreciatively as Buddy smiled proudly.

"Well, say hi to the missus' from us. See you Saturday guys." Buddy bid them before he opened the door for Violet to get in the SUV before going around and getting in it himself and was pleasantly surprised when Violet laced her fingers in his after he got the SUV in gear.

"Thank you for saying something to them, it meant that I didn't have to slip back into Ms. Parr and could just stay Violet." Violet thanked him in a soft murmur but her adoring smile was utterly divine.

"I didn't want that to happen either, if there's anything I can say or do to keep you as Violet, doesn't matter who I'm with, just let me know." Buddy returned as he chanced a gentle squeeze to her hand and was happy when she squeezed back but made no move to remove her hand from his.

"So where did you want to go out to dinner?" Buddy asked.

"Ok, I know another really good place." Violet answered as he gave him directions on where to go where she brought him to a dim sum/tapas place that was run by a couple where the wife was Chinese and her husband was from Spain and it worked beautifully as Violet once again ordered off both menus in both languages since their server was the couple's daughter and was herself trilingual, flipping from one to the other flawlessly to get all her favorites and Buddy was utterly enchanted to see her smile so excitedly and once all the food came out and soon covered every surface of the table and the dim sum had to be triple stacked because the tapas couldn't be, Buddy just beamed a proud smile to see her do a happy dance as she uncovered everything before she went around and identified everything that she ordered before she got her own plate and began getting one of everything, using her chopsticks like a pro before going for the soup dumplings first and walked Buddy through trying to eat them without burning his mouth before they alternated between the tapas and dim sum, slowly but surely getting through most of it, and making sure to at least try one of everything and Buddy felt he would have to loosen his belt and ate until he was just about stuffed.

"Ok, we have to get one more, it's a dessert dumpling." Violet said as she waived down the waitress and ordered what she wanted before she nodded and left again.

"I don't know if I could eat much more Vi." Buddy admitted as he took a breath, and tried not to belch too loudly.

"Just one more bite, find that extra pocket everyone keeps for dessert and get it ready to receive amazingness." Violet urged as she organized what they would be taking home in leftovers in the to-go boxes and in a few moments one last steamer box was brought out and Buddy could smell chocolate.

"Behold, chocolate soup dumplings, with chocolate, Nutella and bananas." Violet revealed as she took the top off as Buddy oohed. Then he carefully got the little pillow of mochi dough surrounding the gooey center and Buddy melted in his seat when he bit into it.

"See? Best last bite." Violet urged as she began to bire into one of her own.

"Do you know how to make this?" Buddy asked.

"Yes I do. The mochi dough is hard but the filling is easy." Violet answered as she finished hers just about the same time Buddy did.

"Do you want another or are you good?" Violet asked.

"I'm good, now if I take another bite, I'll pop." Buddy admitted.

"Wouldn't want that to happen." Violet replied with a fond smile before she checked the time.

"Well, we have two hours before our 12 hours of freedom is up. How do you want to spend it?" Violet asked.

"I don't care. However you want to spend it." Buddy returned.

"Could you do me a favor?" Violet asked thoughtfully as she tilted her head curiously.

"Name it." Buddy furthered.

"As sad and shallow as this is going to sound, I have not hung out socially with anyone except for other "gifted" individuals. In...well in years and being from a "gifted" family, all they know are other "gifted" people too and with other gifted people, you don't worry about hiding your gifts cause everyone has them and we always play and try to one up each other. So to try to be "normal" yet feel comfortable is going to be especially hard for me. It's going to be a challenge for me to stay Violet especially when I'm around anyone and everyone, but you, as Ms. Parr or simply "Vi" with my family. So...would you help me pick something to wear? Like set the tone, something actually casual but nice but not...intimidating. Because Ms. Parr is always commanding and intimidating wherever she goes and I don't want to be like that with your friends cause they'll never feel comfortable around me and if they're not comfortable, it's going to ruin it and this is your first social visit and I want it to go well and I don't want to ruin it for you. And I would ask Jack but he would see to it that I come in head to toe designer labels." Violet confessed lowly as they once again leaned across the table so they could drop their voices and have a private conversation despite the very busy restaurant.

"Of course." Buddy agreed.

"Awesome, then let me pay for dinner and we'll go." Violet offered and once they got their things, Violet directed Buddy to one of the high rise apartment buildings in town. Not the most luxurious, but close.

"Ok, now go to the tenth floor of the parking garage and park in parking space 10245." Violet directed as Buddy did as she asked, still not letting go of her hand as he drove his way up the parking garage. Not surprised when he saw a sea of Mercedes Benz, BMW's, Land Rovers and even some classic cars and sports cars before he found the right spot and parked her SUV into it before they got out and walked into the building where a doorman let them in from behind tinted glass of the entry way.

"Good evening Ms. Parr."

"Good evening James, how's Linda faring today?" Violet returned politely.

"She's doing better, thanks for asking." He answered before he looked questioningly from Violet to Buddy.

"Awesome, this is my guest Mr. Bartholomew Pine, This is Mr. James Conner. " Violet introduced before the two shook hands inside the entryway.

"Welcome to Sky Way, Mr. Pine." James said as he opened the door both of them as Violet came into the building and into the lobby of the floor.

"Good evening Ms. Parr." The receptionist greeted cheerfully.

"Good evening Samantha, how are you this evening?" Violet politely greeted.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking, you have three packages today. Let me go get those for you from cold storage." She said as she quickly left and went into the office behind the desk and promptly returned with three packages, which were chilled before Buddy offered to carry them for Violet which Violet was grateful for before Buddy went with Violet to her apartment where she opened the door for him so he could get in and Violet blew out a breath of relief when she could tell that the "spiders" were still sleeping in her apartment.

"You can put them on the island." Violet directed as she got her actual mail that had been scattered on the floor since it overflowed the little mail basket and threw a small forcefield around all of it and pulled it back to her hand.

"That's a neat trick." Buddy commented as he passed her in the little hallway.

"Thanks, Jack calls it my 'yo-yo' powers. It comes in pretty handy so I don't have to bend over and pick anything up off the floor." Violet murmured a little distractedly as she looked over her mail and sighed as she began to look through it and started to organize it according to what it was before she used her powers to yo-yo two letter openers into her hand once they both came to stand at her kitchen island.

"You get the packages, I get the mail." Violet offered as she handed him one of them.

"Ok." Buddy agreed and took it and started opening her boxes which were all meal kits, which was why they were in cold storage to keep the contents fresh before he put all the food away for her as Violet opened her mail as she opened her bills first and looked those over before she opened all her other mail, ignoring the junk mail and going straight to the checks and opened those before she got a pen from a drawer in the island and signed the checks then got her phone out and took pictures of her checks to deposit them into her accounts directly before she put the checks into an envelope with the date written on the envelope to signify which checks she got which days before she put the envelope into a filing cabinet under the month folder.

Buddy couldn't help but notice that her income was far exceeding her expenses but kept his observations to herself as he realized her apartment was just as nice, if not nicer than his own apartment space. Quite luxurious and modern actually.

"You have a nice apartment." Buddy praised.

"Thanks, I'm never here enough to enjoy it, I only sleep here and eat about two meals a week here. Phillip insisted that I stay at a "safe, protected and respectable" place, so that left either here or a place at Green Gardens or Garden Square where he owns the penthouse there and that was way too close to comfort for me. Besides it has a spider and a mole problem and in two years when I'm not working for Phillip, I'll very happily be walking away from it." Violet answered as she took off her jacket and put it into the closet.

"I can take your jacket." Violet offered before Buddy took off his jacket and handed it to her.

"A mole problem?" Buddy repeated.

"Yeah not only does this place have thirty something "spiders" but the door men at both the ground level and this floor and half the reception staff and every single one of my neighbors on all sides are on Phillip's payroll to keep tabs on me and if I had to guess Phillip just got either two calls or texts or whatever saying that I've taken you to my place and so the spiders are about to wake up here, any minute." Violet predicted as she closed her eyes and focused on them around the place.

"Jeeze. Yeah, gilded cage." Buddy realized as he looked around and suddenly frowned at all of it, wondering where the spiders had their webs.

"Yup. So, let's go to my closet." Violet urged as Buddy followed her to her frankly gorgeous bedroom before she opened up a door that led to the most amazing walk in closet that was practically full of gorgeous dressy business clothes, handbags and heels before Buddy noticed that Violet stopped and stared at a little sliver of regular looking clothes before she took them all off the rack and then laid them over the bed before she decided to try to pull just a few of her more flattering blouses.

"Too much?" Violet asked as she held them out for Buddy as she held them in front of herself.

"No, like if you were to pair that with a pair of jeans it would be just fine. Granted Tammy, Lisa and Beth are probably going to dress up just a little bit too. You don't have to compete with them and you don't have to be the most beautiful woman in the room, I mean you will be no matter what, but that's just my opinion, but this isn't a competition. Just be Violet. Wear what you would if you were hosting a get together at your place with people you're comfortable with. Wear what you would be comfortable in. Remember almost all of them have kids and kids are messy so don't wear anything that won't be the end of the world if Beth's baby throws up on you or the kids decide to finger paint you with ketchup or something." Buddy explained as Violet just smiled appreciatively at him.

"Well, these are dry clean only, so something washable." Violet decided as she put them back and went through her other blouses before she came across one of her favorites that would 1. Make her look beautiful. 2. Was machine washable. 3. Not too dressy and it would go with the necklace Buddy had gotten for her that she had yet to take off.

"This." Violet decided before she held it up to her jeans before she found a nice pair of jeans to go with it.

"Perfect." Buddy nodded in approval.

"Are you sure it's not too dressy?" Violet questioned.

"You'll be fine. Honestly you could show up in just a plain t shirt and jeans and be fine." Buddy reassured her.

"Well, ok, well how about I pack, this and...this. Just in case Beth's baby practically leaks out of every orifice." Violet decided as she gathered what she wanted and put them into a small duffle bag before throwing in some unmentionables quickly from her dresser as Buddy simply sat on the bench at the foot of her bed and contentedly watched as she got what she wanted from around the room as he fantasized about how she would pack if they were actually together and he had told her that he was taking them away on vacation as he thought of all the places he would like to take her as he started to fidget with the skin around his left ring finger, wondering what kind of wedding ring she would get him if they ever did or could get married. He remembered fantasizing the same thing with Tali. But part of him was grateful that she had turned him down, because if she hadn't he would have never grown out of his obsession. And would have she been truly happy with him? Especially the person he was back then? Or would she have felt the way Violet felt about Phillip? Grin and bear it and then bolt at the first opportunity as he realized what had been Tali's breaking point. When he had shot down the plane that had them all on it. He had been so hell bent on revenge on Mr. Incredible that he hadn't even felt the slightest bit of guilt or shame in ordering to kill kids. He had no respect for the sanctity of life, especially young and innocent life and how much he deserved what he had gotten. He had earned it. That was for sure.

"You ok?" Violet asked as she noticed Buddy get withdrawn as he seemed to stare off into space before she settled next to him and reached out and held his hand again and brought him out of it.

"Yeah." Buddy took a deep breath and tried to clear his head of his accusing thoughts.

"Just deep in thought." Buddy tried to brush off.

"About what?" Violet asked curiously.

"The spiders are still sleeping." Violet whispered as she decided to rest her chin on his shoulder again and give him a curious look.

"Just wondering how close the parallels are between Tali and I and you and Phillip." Buddy confessed and Violet took a deep breath through her nose.

"Would you be surprised to learn not a lot?" Violet returned.

"I was an asshole, how could she stand me?" Buddy questioned, almost rhetorically before Violet lifted her head and just shook her head with a fond grin of her lips.

"Because of who she was at the time herself. You were strong and powerful and knew how to throw your weight around and she felt that you were simply misunderstood and she was genuinely attracted to all of that, especially when you treated her like a goddess and catered to her every need, want and whim and she was bound and determined to turn the two of you into a powerhouse couple. Be the next Beyoncé and Jay-Z but of the tech world. She appreciated your genius and knew it would just be a matter of time before the rest of the world recognized and appreciated it too and she was in it for the long haul. And if you hadn't tried to blow me and my family up and then when we survived how you treated us when you captured us, even as kids. Those were the steps too far and really bothered her conscience as they should have anyone. Otherwise she would have stayed. But messing with kids was her line in the sand as is mine. And when you stomped on it, that shook her hard enough to really see you for who you really were in that moment and it made her question if her genuine attraction was to you or to everything around you and question if it was worth it and she decided it wasn't. So she acted accordingly." Violet explained, not sugar coating it but telling him the truth, but still trying to be tactful.

"She made the right choice." Buddy concluded.

"She did." Violet nodded, proud of him for seeing that too.

"But the biggest difference is, her relationship with you was built on genuine, mutual respect that grew from there. Phil's relationship with me isn't. It's built off of power and control and manipulation and secrets and lies on both sides and Phillip adores Invisigirl and Ms. Parr -which is what his own fantasy of who I am is- that I have to live up to whether it's real or not and it doesn't matter how much I like it or hate it, it's part of the performance and he's happy with the act and buys the performance over and over again and he's never bothered to get to know Violet, the real Violet anyway. But you have, so our relationship is built off of um, let's see…." Violet took a deep breath and sighed as she brought his hand into her lap to consider how nicely their fingers interlaced together as she once again was drawn to all the scars on his hand as she couldn't help but trace them as she searched her thoughts and feelings for a moment.

"I feel ours is built on genuine mutual respect, honesty, understanding, sympathy and empathy and kindness. Which all good relationships should have and be built on to begin with, no matter what kind of relationship it is. And it's why it works as well as it does. Even with our shared history." Violet honestly appraised as Buddy carefully considered her words and was elated that it was even that much.

"What do you think?" Violet posed as she turned to him and looked at him curiously.

"I agree. Even though I'm not all that respectable, I'm a…"

"Don't. Don't start down that self deprecating pity party of a path. You're better than that and it's not fair to the guy you are now. In the past you were misguided and self righteous and vengeful. And then Karma handed you your ass and you humbly took the beating. And it's what you did after and since- that's mattered and it's what you're doing now that matters the most and who you are in this moment that matters too. Especially to me. Forgive yourself for the rest. I know I have." Violet appraised as the two shared a meaningful look and just as Violet gave his lips a glance as Buddy did the same and was seriously considering kissing her, her eyes went wide and she withdrew and bolted a few steps from him.

"Spiders are waking up." Violet whispered as she did her best to look and act "natural" again but even Buddy could see, the Violet he adored, shrunk back and Ms. Parr stepped back into the fore, he saw it in her posture and body language and Buddy was once again filled with anger and resentment towards Phillip, for doing such a thing to her. She deserved better than to live in fear, even in her own private space. Which should be sacred.

"Well, it's about that time Mr. Pine, we should be heading back, thanks for all your help." Violet thanked him as she put the bag over her shoulder and held onto it tightly as Buddy got up and left with her again and even in her SUV, Violet stayed withdrawn and eerily quiet as Buddy drove them back to SEB and the whole way over Buddy just got more and more angry and resentful to Phillip.

Violet stowed her bag of clothes in Buddy's room, in the closet before she helped Buddy unload everything else from her SUV and it was almost enjoyable to see and feel them slipping back into such domestic tasks in an effortless tandem. Even as mundane as putting away groceries was. But even Buddy could tell that Violet stayed withdrawn as Ms. Parr had taken over fully again because there was a surgical precision to her movements. She was trying to get things done as quickly and thoroughly as she could. Just a step below rushing before Buddy simply stopped and held her hands.

"The spiders won't always be around." Buddy breathed.

"I know. It's hard to know when they'll go to sleep again." Violet answered, her words barely a whisper before she reluctantly pulled her hands from his with an apologetic look as she finished what she needed to.

"Thanks for today though, I'll see you in the morning Mr. Pine." Violet said as she put her shoes back on before she left and drove home and finished putting her mail away and broke down her boxes and put them in a closet where she kept spare boxes to ship things out and was grateful that the "spiders" in her own apartment had been put back to sleep before she got ready for bed, brushing her hair and braiding it so it wouldn't tangle in her sleep and when she went to bed, she thought over all the events of the day in her head and actually smiled softly in the darkness. Buddy had been amazing, all day, and for him to slip into 'boyfriend/husband' at the liquor store had been so natural for both of them. Had her wishing maybe someday...because she couldn't deny or dismiss the feelings she had started to develop for him. It had started off as just two birds in side by side cages, sharing a toy or two. And it developed and bloomed from there. Natalia had even said that she had always been surprised when her attachment to Buddy had seemingly grown overnight and how one day she was his employee, and the next, she was his everything in all things. And how that seemed for her to be the same. One day, he was an an enemy, the next- an obligation and objective, the day after, an acquaintance, the next day he was a friend, and the day after that it felt like he was so much more but she was so scared of putting any names or labels on any of it because she didn't want to try to force it into anything or cut it into shape before it could fully sprout. She was genuinely curious to see how much more this would develop and bloom, like a growing vine despite the concrete around it.

But there was the issue of his name. Buddy wasn't exactly the most romantic name to call out during the throws of passion, Bud was informal but not quite right, although all his friends called him Bud. Buddy was a little infantilizing. Buddy is what you called other little boys on the playground when you didn't know their names. Bart was too old. Barret could possibly work before she got her phone and looked up common nicknames for Bartholomew. Barty was ridiculous. Tolly was too much like Tali. So that left...Barly, possible, but maybe too similar to barley, the grain, Barret, kind of like the gun, but it was the only good alternative she could like. But she needed something other than dead give away pet names, like Honey, Darling, Baby, Sweetie, Handsome that kind of thing that Phillip would immediately flag and get jealous and suspicious over, but still something a little more intimate than 'Bud' . Something she could use that was special but not something that would make others look at her strangely if she started to use it. It would be good on Raid days to call him something to go with Violet or Vi. Violet still came to the conclusion that Barret was as good as it was going to get because Barret and Violet did go together. Maybe he had something he preferred? Maybe something to do with his middle name. Maybe. But for now, she just needed sleep.

Violet found herself walking through another very luxurious home like space, normally, such a thing would make her a little nervous but she wasn't because Buddy was with her and held her hand as he excitedly showed her everything and explained what was what. And she was dressed casually and happily walked around barefoot as the windows were open and there was a warm breeze and bright sunshine coming in from all the windows, most of which were open and she could almost hear the ocean and to see him so animated and excited as she showed it off made her happy that he was happy. And that's all that mattered.

"And this is the bedroom, it has the best views." Buddy insisted as he opened the double doors for her before he brought her into the space as Violet softly gasped. It was even prettier than any bedroom she had ever seen in any magazine.

"We need to check out the bed." Buddy immediately hopped up on the bed, his own bare feet sinking into the softness of the mattress and the covers as he held out his hand to beckon her before she stood up on it with him before he started to bounce which got her to laugh as she started bouncing too before the two of them were outright jumping and bouncing all over the bed, laughing their asses off before they happily fell down and crashed into the bed on their backs next to each other as their laughter eventually died down.

"So what do you think of the house?" Buddy asked as they rolled to face each other.

"I love it. Even if you had not designed and practically built it yourself, and even if we had just bought it, I would still love it." Violet insisted as the two scooted closer to each other until they were chest to chest with Buddy's hand softly stroking down her back and her side as Violet reached around him and scratched his back, dipping her hands under his shirt to scratch at his bare skin, which earned her an appreciative keen from him as he rolled over her slightly to one- pin her to the bed, two- give her more access to his back.

"Really? You're not just saying that?" Buddy asked.

"I mean every word of it. Honest. It's perfect, you did so good, I'm so proud of you." Violet cooed before he dipped her head and kissed her happily as she kissed him back with all she was worth as the two of them seemed to follow a familiar pattern and chain of events as they pulled down the covers down as they tried to bare the other before they were finally rejoined.

"I'm not hurting you or the baby am I?" Buddy asked as he palmed her belly which had barely bulged as he positioned himself over her and began stroking himself into her.

"No, you're not, you're fine, I'm just happy the house is done before they come." Violet reassured him as she pulled him to herself so she could feel more of his body weight anchoring her in all the ways she needed it to before he continued.

"Me too." Buddy cooed in her ear before he playfully bit it before blazing a trail from her ear down her neck to her shoulder as Violet keened and sighed happily, letting him do as he pleased as she was all too happy to receive his affections as he poured all the love he possessed into her as she did the same.

#Why So Jaded #Why So Jaded Chapter 8 #Synlet #Buddy Pine #Violet Parr

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brynnmck · 4 years

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Tagged by @agirlnamedkeith, @pretty--thief, and @samirant, thank you! <333

What is the colour of your hairbrush? Mostly black, with a green ring on it.

Name a food you never eat: I have quite a few foods I can’t eat anymore thanks to some random health issues I developed a few years back (friends, aging is great from a mental/emotional perspective, Not Great from a physical perspective) but in terms of voluntary stuff, green peppers. I’ve outgrown a lot of my childhood food dislikes but that one is in my SOUL.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold, definitely.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? I was in a boring meeting!

What’s your favourite candy bar? Probably Snickers? I really like 100 Grand too, though. And Butterfinger. And Twix. And I want Claire Saffitz to make all of them for me.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? I’ve been going to Major League baseball games since I was a kid (it was my dad’s favorite sport), and the past few years, I’ve been to 20-30 games a season. I usually go for my birthday, too, which is in a couple of weeks, and it’s just kinda sinking in that there will be no birthday baseball for me this year. :(

What was the last thing you said out loud? Just saying hi to my husband.

What is your favourite ice cream? Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. I can’t have caffeine anymore so this summer I’m gonna try to make a decaf version for myself. (WHY IS ALMOST ALL COFFEE ICE CREAM CAFFEINATED. There are so many reasons people can’t have caffeine! Sigh.)

What was the last thing you had to drink? Water!

Do you like your wallet? Sure? It’s a nice blue and it holds my stuff.

What was the last thing you ate? Fruit and Greek yogurt for breakfast.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I didn’t! I actually ordered a couple of soft bras from TomboyX on Monday, but nothing on the weekend.

What’s the last sporting event you watched? A replay of an old Mariners game a couple of nights ago. If we’re talking live sports, I watched about half of a Korean baseball league game a few nights back, which was delightful.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? Butter!

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? @ajoblotofjunk

Ever go camping? Not in a long time. My husband has been getting the urge to go lately, though, so maybe we will!

Do you take vitamins? I take supplements due to the aforementioned health issues. And vitamin B.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Lol no. My mother is very Catholic and she brought us to 6 am Mass every weekday when I was a kid. It was well-intentioned (her dad had a pretty volatile temperament and she always felt safe at church, so she subconsciously wanted us to feel the same way) but it did not sell me on the experience! Heh.

Do you have a tan? I live in the Seattle area and it’s May, so... lol no. I’m also pretty pale so I don’t get that tan anyway, but. I usually get a little something going in the summer, enough to have tan lines anyway.

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Tough call, but I’m going with pizza.

Do you drink your soda through a straw? I don’t drink soda anymore (though I drink a LOT of carbonated water), but I’ll drink my drink through a straw if I get it at a fast-food place. Otherwise I don’t usually use one.

What colour socks do you usually wear? Most of my winter socks for work are black. Otherwise it’s a pretty random selection of colors.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Sure. Usually 5-10 miles over, rarely more (or less) than that.

What terrifies you? Climate change. Global pandemics. You know. Just generally suffering (both mine and other people’s).

Look to your left. What do you see? Through window of the room I’m sitting in: my neighbors’ house, and a cherry tree in their yard.

What chore do you hate most? Cleaning the bathrooms.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? The hot Australian woman who’s been on Gold Rush recently, or a dear fannish friend of mine I haven’t talked to in years who is actually from New Zealand and I KNOW IT’S VERY DIFFERENT but it’s close enough to make me think of her!

What’s your favourite soda? I used to drink a lot of Diet Mountain Dew. I really miss ginger beer, too. I love a good spicy ginger beer. Root beer too.

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Drive-thru all the way. Isn’t that part of the advantage of fast food?

What’s your favourite number? I don’t really have one!

Who’s the last person you talked to? My husband!

Favourite cut of beef? Boneless ribeye. I finally bought a propane grill a couple of years back and I have now learned to make a badass steak, if I say so myself.

Last song you listened to? Eve 6 - Inside Out. A few months ago I suddenly remembered that this song existed and so I bought it and now I have to listen to it at least twice every time it comes up, ha.

Last book you read? An as-yet-unpublished Rose Lerner novel, because I am very lucky! (It’s a wlw Gothic. SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT.)

Favourite day of the week? Saturday

Can you say the alphabet backwards? In this economy??? Idk, I could probably figure it out, but it would definitely be work.

How do you like your coffee? I love a caramel macchiato, especially iced so you get those weird globules of caramel coming up through the straw. But a nonfat decaf double latte with a little bit of some kind of syrup is my go-to these days--hot when it’s cold out, iced when it’s warm out.

Favourite pair of shoes? I have these 40s-ish heels that tie over your instep with a little bow and I love them. I also have some extremely cool red velvet with black cording peep-toe Louboutins that I bought off some discount site years ago, except I can’t wear them for long because they’re about a half size too small. But they’re SO PRETTY.

Time you normally get up? In isolation, I’m discovering that my natural sleep schedule is about 2 am - 10 am. But I have a daily meeting at 9:30, and I try to get my workout done before that, so I get up at 8-8:30ish. I am discovering through this meme that SO MANY of you are morning people! What is that like???

Sunrises or sunsets? I love sunrises but I am not remotely a morning person, so. I see a lot more sunsets, and I love them too!

How many blankets are on your bed? Just one duvet.

Describe your kitchen plates. We have some with blue perimeters and kind of a white/oatmeal middle that we inherited from my in-laws, and the ones we actually bought on purpose are white on top and either sage-y green or charcoal black on the bottom.

Describe your kitchen at the moment. Somewhat messy, or at least there are dishes to do. I made some pretty epic cauliflower mushroom risotto with shrimp last night, though, so it was for a good cause.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? Perfect Manhattans with rye are my go-to, or a Quebecois, which is basically a perfect Manhattan with a little bit of maraschino liqueur added (and ideally a lemon twist, though we’re usually too lazy for those). In the summer, I’m getting really into gin these days: either gin and tonic, gin and some kind of citrus spiked seltzer, or a Last Word. I also really love a good craft beer, and sparkling wine too.

Do you play cards? Not really. We used to play a shit ton of gin rummy in high school, but I haven’t really played cards much since.

What colour is your car? Blue!

Do you know how to change a tire? Theoretically yes, though the one time I actually tried to do it myself, I had a hell of a time getting the lug nuts off. I was fortunately in my driveway at the time (good place for a flat tire!) and my neighbors kept coming by and offering to help, and I was like NO I WANNA DO IT. I think I did need help eventually, though. Stupid pneumatic tools at tire installation places!

Your favourite state? That rare, usually-brief phase of writing where everything seems to fit and flow and you’re a genius and you understand all the secrets of the cosmos. Also Washington.

Favourite job you’ve had? My current one. It’s not my dream job, but it pays well and I like my team and I get to learn new stuff fairly often and I can work from home in the midst of all this, so. I am very lucky!

How did you get your biggest scar? The summer after my freshman year of college, I was part of a summer stock theatre troupe, and we performed half the summer at my college, and half the summer in a very small town in eastern Oregon that had an outdoor stage. One of my entrances involved running over the grass to get to the stage, and one night the grass was wet, and my costume involved ballet slippers, and I slipped and fell onto the stage stairs in front of the whole audience. It hurt SO MUCH that I got very light-headed onstage while I was trying to get through the scene, lol. Anyway, my costume also involved harem pants that had elastic around the calf/ankle area, and I got a friction burn from those, which ended up scarring because the skin over your shins is very thin! (I also got a few massive bruises on my leg that didn’t go away for weeks, so eventually my mom nagged me into going to the doctor, who promptly started gently hinting to see if my boyfriend at the time was responsible for the injuries. Which was actually pretty cool of the doctor! But then I was like, lol no, trust me, a hundred people saw me bite it, this is 100% dumbass mistake.) And that’s my scar story.

Tagging, if you want to do it: @ajoblotofjunk, @snowymary, @halcyon-red, @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined, @unadulteratedkr, and anyone else who feels like doing this!

#meme me

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fromwinnipeg2everywhere · 4 years

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Winnipeg is Good: Support Local Businesses!

My husband and I love to dine out and all of our favourite places are small, locally owned restaurants. I also enjoy posting pictures of food on Instagram, and though it may seem a tacky habit in the eyes of some people, for me it is my way of showing appreciation and support for the restaurant. Whenever I post something, I am hoping that it encourages other people to try that place or make them aware that it even exists in the first place!

The local restaurant industry is one of the hardest hit during the Covid-19 pandemic. Restaurants, with their razor-thin margins, depend on customers to stay afloat, and with everyone stuck at home, the sad reality is that there is a lot of laid-off restaurant staff, and local restaurant owners are having to find creative ways to keep their doors open. Instead of closing their doors, some restaurants have pivoted to delivery/pickup only services, some are selling pre-prepared meals to heat at home, and some like King’s Head Pub and Bodegoes have re-opened as a grocery-delivery service. My husband and I are making an effort to support the local restaurants by still ordering delivery/pickup with the hope that whatever little support we can give help them make it to other side of these crazy times. How else can you support restaurants during the pandemic? Follow them on Instagram, buy gift cards, order directly from them and do pickup if you can (food delivery services such as Skip and Doordash pretty much eats what little profit restaurants make in commissions), and tip generously!

Even before the pandemic, we made a conscious effort to support locally owned businesses and restaurants. Of course, not everything (or everyone) local is good (ahem, Nygard and Fun Mountain) so do your research, but I can say with certainty that everything good is local! There are many reasons to support local businesses. Many of our local businesses pay living wages. What does that mean? It means, yes, you will have to pay a little bit more for your coffee or your donut or your book, but that also means you are supporting a business that ensure their staff are paid fairly. Many of our local businesses and restaurants focus on sustainability – for example, they use environmentally friendly containers and they support local growers, farmers and suppliers (which means the ingredients and raw materials don’t have to travel far!). Supporting local means more of your dollars stay within the community – to the owners, the suppliers, the staff – local people who are very passionate about their craft and their business, and their profits are then reinvested to our community. Aside from the economic reasons, our local businesses are also very active in giving back to the community, for example, the first week when all the restaurants were forced to close their dining rooms to customers, many of them came together to donate their extra inventory to Chef Ben Kramer who then cooked all the food donations for local soup kitchens. Last, but not the least, these local businesses are what makes Winnipeg unique. Think of the last time you travelled somewhere? Where did you go to eat? Somewhere local, that you can only find in that place, I hope! Well, why wouldn’t you do the same at home?

So how do you know which businesses and restaurants to support? A lot of them have social media presence, so follow them on Instagram. They usually have stories that gives you a glimpse on how they run their business, for example, I saw a story where the owners visited a farm and showed us how it practiced ethical farming practices. I mean, I wish we could all be vegan or vegetarian, but the reality is the majority will not be, but that does not mean we have to support inhumane, factory farming methods. Instagram stories and posts will also have specials that you won’t normally find on the menu, so it’s a great way to try new things! I know that it is sometimes hard not to let the prices dictate where we decide to buy something, but if you can, think of the reasons why something is a little bit more expensive (fair wages, economies of scale – small businesses can’t compete with Bezos! -- quality of ingredients, keeping local dollars local) and make your decisions on value, not cost.

I have put together a list of our favourite local businesses and restaurants with the hope that it encourages you to support them. Not sure which ones are open now, but check out their Instagram pages for latest info.

Restaurants and their specialities (in no particular order)

1. Merchant Kitchen – Asian Fusion. This is our go-to. You can’t go wrong with the Thai Fried Rice and Korean Fried Chicken.

2. Yujiro/Saburo – ramen, premium sushi, donburi bowls

3. Gaijin Izakayya - reasonably priced, good sushi

4. Blufish – premium sushi

5. Sushi Cushi – reasonably priced, good sushi

6. Cho Ichi Ramen – I like their noodles, closest to Ichiran (Japanese ramen place) that I’ve tried

7. Dwarf No Cachette – Japanese food that is not sushi – okonomiyaki, takoyaki, donburi bowls, Japanese curry

8. Sabai Thai – Thai food

9. Pho Hoang – Vietnamese food

10. Kum Koon – lunch dimsum service is the best!

11. Maque – Asian fusion, for a super fancy anniversary dinner (or for a regular Tuesday night dinner, whatever!)

12. Myrna’s – Filipino breakfast, cash only!

13. Kyu – ramen, rice bowls, heroshima sandwiches

14. Mitzi’s – chicken fingers

15. Passero – Italian. Another fancy anniversary dinner place. Make sure you make a reservation!

16. Harth – Italian. The prosciutto di parma plate!

17. Kevin’s Bistro – If you are a fancy mac & cheese fan

18. Red Ember – Our favourite pizza place in Winnipeg

19. Pizzeria Gusto/Gusto North – A close second

20. Burrito del Rio – Hands down THE best burritos/tacos in town

21. Hermano’s – South American Food

22. La Fiesta – Salvadoran food.

23. The Good Fight Taco – Good taco

24. King and Bann – Fancy sandwiches. Best BLT.

25. Clementine – Brunch. They don’t accept reservations so go early and/or prepare to line up

26. Miss Browns – Brunch. The menu on William is more extensive compared to Hargrave Street Market.

27. Pineridge Hollow – come for brunch, stay for the petting zoo!

28. Forth Cafe – cocktails, coffee, light lunch – avocado toast is delish!

29. Langside Grocery – breakeven scotch bottles every Sunday! Check insta for more details!

30. Amsterdam Tea Room – cocktails, snacks

31. Thom Bargen – coffee and pastries

32. Fools and Horses – coffee, breakfast sandwiches, banana brulee french toast (Broadway location only), the Forks and Hargrave Street Market locations only sells coffee and pastries

33. Deer & Almond – small plates, fancy dinner place

34. Little Goat – mussel specials!

35. One Great City – beer and yummy food

36. Yellow Dog Tavern – beer and cheap eats!

37. Nonsuch – beer and THE best burger in town

38. Yard Burger – second best burger in town

39. Punjab Sweet House – best samosas in town, and they’re like $8 for a dozen giant size samosas – best value in town!

40. Famena’s - best roti and stand up routine by the owners

41. Tehran Cafe – Iranian food

42. Jenna Rae Cakes – macarons and cupcakes

43. Chaeban Ice Cream – best ice cream (also available at Sobey’s)

44. Oh Doughnuts – go early, they sell out! Or order online the night before for a discount.

45. Camille Bakery – closest to Dominique Ansel cronuts I’ve tasted

46. The Common – Food hall

47. Hargrave Street Market – Food hall

Other non-restaurant businesses

1. Morden’s Chocolates – Russian mints!!!

2. Fromagerie Bothwell – award winning cheese made in Manitoba!

3. Banville and Jones – for all your wine needs

4. DeLuca’s Wine – more wine!

5. Torque Brewing – beer!

6. Stone Angel Brewing – more beer!

7. Little Brown Jug – and more beer!

8. Kite and Kaboodle – Toys

9. Toad Hall – Toys

10. McNally Robinsons – books!

11. Browluxe – eye brow pencil and cruelty free

12. Coal and Canary – candles

13. DeLuca’s – Grocery

14. Piazza di Nardi – Grocery and bakery

15. Hilary Druxman – jewelry

16. EMK Clothing – clothing

17. U.n.luggage – luggage store

18. D’arcy’s ARC – pet shelter and pet supplies store

19. Winnipeg Pet Rescue Shelter – pet shelter and pet supplies store

20. Lavilash – eyelashes

21. Brows by G – eyebrows

22. We Heart Winnipeg - hoodies!!

#winnipeg #manitoba #canada #supportlocal #smallbiz

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johaerys-writes · 5 years

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Day 12: Watching the Sunset

For day 12 of @scharoux‘s @14daysofdalovers, featuring my OC Tristan Trevelyan and Dorian Pavus! From the as-yet-untitled Modern AU @oftachancer and I have been working on :)

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The cold southern wind whistled through the narrow cobblestone streets, bringing with it smells of burning wood, damp pavement and fresh salt spray, mingled with Antivan spices from the many restaurants along the road. Dorian wrapped his coat tighter around him, shivering. He had been in Ostwick for months, and he had gotten somewhat used to the random bouts of rain, followed by bright sunlight, which was in turn followed by more drizzle. That drizzle was the worst; that slow, steady spattering, too light for an umbrella to make a difference, but that still managed to dampen his coat and the top of his head. It could go on for days- days that seemed grey and miserable and never ending, days that Dorian had become accustomed to. What he never thought he could get accustomed to was that wind. The wind that seemed to come from everywhere all at once, swirling about him, making the leaves and scattered papers on the street whirl in lazy, unfocused patterns. It froze him to the core, and made his eyes water and his lips crack, and disheveled his carefully combed waves. It irritated him to no end. How those dratted Ostwickers never seemed to mind that awful weather, and would walk about in the middle of winter with T-shirts and thin sweaters while he had to bundle up in layers and scarves was beyond him. Southerners. A bizarre lot.

He muttered curses under his breath as he made his way to his flat, swerving past the throngs of people and laughing students. That part of the city was the busiest that time of day - the old Merchant district, that was now filled with bars and coffee shops and small restaurants, the scent of ale wafting from half open doors. Marcher ales were decent, if one liked that sort of thing. Dorian himself prefered wine, red and deliciously dry, for which the Free Marches were hardly renowned. Even so, the selection of Antivan and Orlesian wines was astounding, even in the tiniest bars. The Marchers were an odd assortment of people, that was certain, yet they seemed to know their liquor as well as any Tevinter. In that respect, Dorian had grown quite fond of the place. He wondered what else he might grow fond of, with time.

Muffled conversations and drifted from the bars and shops he passed by, and Dorian found his steps had slowed down as he glanced at the people gathered inside, chattering and laughing. He managed to spot a few familiar faces - students that showed up pale and weary at his morning lectures, dark circles under their eyes and steaming cups of strong coffee in their hands, yet were now rosy cheeked and merry under the influence of whatever brew they were sipping from tall glasses. His gaze swept over them all, never lingering on any particular one, when his steps suddenly stopped short before a small and rather dim bar, simply decorated and its chairs carefully arranged in a semi circle. The reflection on the glass window made it hard to make out details, but Dorian would recognise that hair anywhere. Light blonde, the highlights in it so pale they almost looked white, falling in soft waves around a high forehead and a sharp jaw. A strong nose, a stubborn chin, a small line in between brows furrowed in a focused frown. The soft curve of that bottom lip, curling downward, interrupted by the bite of white teeth, glistening as a rosy tongue was swept over it soon after. Glistening.

Dorian blinked, leaning forward to peer inside the bar. Yes, it was definitely him. Tristan Trevelyan. He hadn’t seen him in quite a while - not since Professor Walker had returned to the University, resuming the teaching of the Rune crafting course. Dorian didn’t miss much about teaching that course. Its preparation took up way too much of his time, time he needed for his own research, yet there was one thing in particular that he now realised he had missed. His TA meetings with the young Trevelyan had been entertaining, in a way that Dorian had never quite anticipated. Quiet and reserved most of the time, with a reticent gaze that always lit up when they talked about all the different elements of runes and their composition. Conversations about rune crafting could soon derail into deep discussions about history and philosophy, until they somehow found themselves talking about Rivain coffee and all the different reasons why it was preferable to Nevarran tea. Dorian had learned that Tristan was fond of pastries and gin, often in unusual combinations, that he disliked early mornings, that he abhorred scratchy sweaters, that he would much rather spend his summers by the beach than in the mountains. He seemed approachable, tangible, tactile, yet still so out of reach and understanding that Dorian’s thoughts couldn’t help but stretch towards him, almost obsessively.

Without quite realising it, he pushed the door open, walking into the small bar. It hardly looked like a bar; there was no music playing from loud speakers, no overpowering smell of beer and whisky wafting off the tables. In the center of the semi circle was a small make-shift podium, where a young man was sitting on a dingy wooden chair, a book open in his hand.

“...What is the true nature of the poet? What is the proper role of the poet in society? Is the artist a medium through which universal truths are expressed, or is art forged in the depths of the artist’s psyche, corrupted by flawed world-views and personal biases? What is the function of imagination and inspiration? Polmear begins by declaring that a poet has no self or identity. A poet, like a chameleon, absorbs the colorations of the outside world, becoming one with the things seen, heard, and touched. Poets should free themselves of their own limited experiences of the world…”

Dorian approached silently, taking a seat at the very last row, close to the door. There were only five or six people. Tristan was by himself, so far as Dorian could see, nodding absently as he listened to the man on the podium. When the man was finished, a woman was invited to the podium, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, her eyes obscured by the thick rim of her glasses.

"How many bards gild the lapses of time! A few of them have ever been the food of my delighted fancy,—I could brood, over their beauties, earthly, or sublime: And often, when I sit me down to rhyme, these will in throngs before my mind intrude…”[1]

Others followed after her, each one with a careful selection of poems. Some of them were quite enjoyable, that even Dorian could admit, others just sounded like pompous fluff to his ears. Soon he found his mind drifting, choosing to study the young Trevelyan instead. He hadn’t noticed him, his expression dreamy as he listened, gently nodding when one by one the poems finished.

It seemed like an eternity later that the young man from before came to the podium. “Would anyone else like to read a poem before we finish for tonight?”

“I would.”

To Dorian’s surprise, Tristan rose from his seat. He shifted awkwardly on his feet for a breath, then made his way to the center of the semi circle. He sat at the edge of the chair, clearing his throat. Long fingers brushed over the outside of a small pocket book, its yellow pages contrasting the paleness of his skin.

“We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, streaking the darkness radiantly—yet soon, night closes round, and they are lost for ever: or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings give various response to each varying blast, to whose frail frame no second motion brings one mood or modulation like the last. We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep; We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow, the path of its departure still is free: Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutability.”[2]

Dorian’s skin prickled as he listened to his voice, smooth and slightly nasal, the soft timbre as it deepened, his tongue delicately rolling over the vowels and the consonants. Dorian was never one for poetry, but at that moment he would gladly listen to every poem in that book of his and more, if it simply meant listening to him.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the quiet applause that echoed across the room as the poem drew to a close, and Tristan lifted his eyes, gaze sweeping over the faces there. And saw Dorian’s. And blushed. Dorian blinked a couple times, just to make certain, yet there it was. A rosy glow, climbing from his neck to his cheeks up to his ear, behind which a pale blonde lock rested. Tristan blinked back at him, his lips twitching in something that looked like smile -was it a smile?-, then he stood up, returning to his seat without ceremony. The poetry reading was concluded not long after, and Dorian found himself standing by the door, trying to suppress the flutter in his stomach as he watched Tristan sling his backpack over his shoulder and approach him. But why in the void would he be feeling fluttery? This was just foolish. Juvenile and foolish.

“Of all the places I expected to see you, this must have been the very last,” Dorian said with a bright smile in the best imitation of a teasing tone he could muster.

Tristan’s smile was reserved when he came to stand before him. “Likewise.” He glanced behind his shoulder at the people leaving the cafe. “You came with someone?”

“No. I was just passing by and decided to drop in. It looked like an intriguing little assemblage. I couldn’t well resist.”

His eyes flashed with interest as he pushed the door open, gesturing for him to walk out first. “Are you a fan of poetry, then?”

Dorian licked his lips, stepping out into the chilly evening. He gave him a quick nod, and instantly regretted it when the fellow turned to look at him in awe. “Evidently, not as big a fan as you are,” he said quickly. “Although, I have to say, this was a very interesting reading. Which poet was it you were discussing, again?”

“It wasn’t a single poet,” Tristan said simply. “It was a feature on Blessed Age Free Marcher naturalist poets.”

“Ah.” Dorian shoved his hands into his pockets, looking ahead. “I lean more towards Tevinter poetry myself.”

Tristan hummed softly at the back of his throat, his steps falling alongside his. “Don’t ask, we may not know what the gods plan for you and me. Be wise, strain clear the wine and prune the rambling vine of expectation. Life’s short. Even while we talk, Time, hateful, runs a mile. Don’t trust tomorrow’s bough for fruit. Pluck this, here, now.”[3]

Dorian blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Tristan blinked back at him, then frowned. “‘Carpe diem’. It’s one of the most well-known Tevinter poems here. I’m afraid I only know the modern translation. Did I say something wrong?” He stopped, searching Dorian’s face. Then, a small smirk curled the edges of his lips. The audacity. “You’re not a fan of poetry, are you?”

“Very well, you’ve rooted me out,” Dorian said with a soft sigh. “Poetry has never held too much interest for me, I’m afraid. Although I do see the appeal.”

Tristan’s smile widened just a hair before melting away, the tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth deepening for a blink of an eye. He walked on, his strides steady and confident, the wind blowing through his hair. A faint scent of lavender and citrus flowers and… and something else that Dorian couldn’t put his finger on drifted towards him. He quickened his pace, catching up to him.

“So,” he said decisively, “how are your runes?”

“They’re well. Multiplying, actually.”

Dorian huffed in amusement. “Enjoying Professor Walker’s lectures, I take it?”

Tristan shrugged. “They’re alright. She is quite knowledgeable. Although I prefer your methods.”

Dorian could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. So he prefered his methods, did he? Why did that make Dorian feel giddy like a besotted schoolgirl? And why did he suddenly feel the burning need to show him the full range of his methods, preferably while slowly peeling that snug dark blue coat off him, then that fitted black sweater that hugged the muscles of his arms, then those jeans that...

He gave a minute shake of his head, swallowing thickly as he smiled. “I’m pleased to hear you found my method of teaching appealing, but I have you to thank for that. The lectures would have been significantly duller without your assistance.”

Tristan chuckled under his breath, that rosy blush returning to his cheeks. Or was it from the cold wind? “I doubt that. You have a way of captivating your audience.”

There it was again. That awkward little hop-scotch in his chest. “You flatter me,” he said, hoping his voice betrayed none of his emotions.

“I’m not. I’m only stating the obvious.”

His expression was serious, his tone as matter-of-fact as Dorian had ever heard it. “I see. Well, in any case, thank you for thinking so highly of me.”

Tristan shot him a sideways glance as he walked on, taking a step to the side to let a merry company pass them by. When they found themselves side to side again, his bottom lip was flushed, as if he had been biting it. “You’ve taught many classes before? In Tevinter?”

The mention of his country made Dorian bristle. He straightened, head held high as he walked. “I have. Quite a few different ones, in fact. I finished my doctoral thesis in only three years in Minrathous, but I assisted my mentors with many of their courses during that time.”

“Three years? That’s… bloody hell. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone finishing their PhD in less than four.” His gaze was thoughtful when it landed on Dorian. “How are you finding things here? Is Ostwick up to par?”

Dorian scoffed. “Up to par? Hardly. But I’d give them an A for effort. Or a B.” He paused for a moment, pretending to think. “An A minus?”

Tristan huffed a laugh. “Let’s settle for a B plus. That sounds fair.” Their shoulders brushed as the pavement narrowed, leading them down a small lane squeezed between two stone brick buildings. The sharp gust that blew through it smelt of sea spray and seaweed, and only then did Dorian realise that they had been walking towards the shorefront all that while. He had been so absorbed by the company of the man beside him that he hadn’t even taken a moment to think about where they were going.

Dark grey blue waves frothed and crashed against the rocky shore as they stepped upon the wide promenade. Seagulls squawked and crooned above them, gliding with the gales to perch themselves atop the old carved railing. The sun was nearing the edge of the horizon, painting the heavy clouds in shades of gold and orange and violet. Dorian followed Tristan as he walked up to the railing, his coat stretching across his shoulders when he rested his elbows on the cold marble.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. The wind swirled about them, thick and sticky with salt, while Dorian gazed out at the stormy sea, the side of his hip touching the railing. The way Tristan seemed so focused on watching the sea stretch before them, it seemed to Dorian that he had entirely forgotten his presence.

“Do you miss Minrathous?”

Tristan’s voice drifted along a sharp gust, mingled with the susurrus of waves, was almost drowned out by the gull’s insistent squawking, yet Dorian heard it clearly. It was the last question that Dorian had expected him to ask, even though his time with the man had shown him that nothing about him was as it seemed. The question itself was simple. The implications behind it immense. Dorian wondered whether Tristan realised that.

He always despised that moment, the dratted moment when the matter of his heritage came up. It always did, sooner or later, no matter who he was talking to. To the people around him he must have looked odd, unusual, outlandish even. It wasn’t like he could do anything to hide it, even if he had wanted to. The Imperium had been a looming threat on the whole of Thedas for centuries, and the tales that had been woven through the people’s consciousness were of charlatanism and blind fanaticism at best, horror and despair at worst. No one was bold enough to say anything to his face, of course, but Dorian could see their reservations plainly. He could see it in their wide, friendly smiles that quivered when they were finally able to place his accent, or after he had helpfully informed them where he had learned all the “fascinating things he knew”. He could sense it in the awkwardness that followed, thick enough to be sliced through with a knife. A comment would usually ensue, something about the weather in Tevinter, where it was summer all year round, apparently, or the fine wines that surpassed Antivans in quality and lay far beyond what their meagre salaries could stretch to. Idle statements, irrelevant, inconsequential, aimed at steering the conversation carefully around the elephant in the room rather than crashing head first into it, hastily changing the subject to something else. Something safer. More acceptable. As if the very fact that he came from Tevinter was a frightful affliction, and any mention of it had to be avoided at all costs.

Dorian held his gaze on the crashing waves and the jagged rocks below them. “Occasionally,” he replied slowly. Cautiously. He stole a sidelong glance at Tristan, waiting. Another long stretch of minutes passed before the man spoke again.

“I’ve heard it’s a wondrous place. I always longed to see it.” He paused for moment, worrying the inside of his lip. “What is it like?”

Dorian’s ears pricked up, searching for the sarcasm, the apprehension, the hidden trap. There was nothing there. It was a simple, straightforward, guileless question. He took a deep breath. “It is indeed beautiful. It is unlike any other city I’ve ever visited.”

“How so?” Tristan turned to look at him, dark blue eyes glinting with interest. Once again, not a hint of mockery in them. What an odd fellow.

“The city inner is made almost entirely of white marble,” Dorian began, forgetting his hesitancy for a moment. “The marble spires of Minrathous were once the tallest buildings in Thedas. An architectural marvel. They’re still there, most of them. There are covered walkways all throughout the center, and entire markets held in loggias. There are hidden gardens everywhere, too, carefully tucked away. One moment you could be making your way through a crowded street, and the next you could turn a corner and find yourself in an oasis, with trees and fragrant rose bushes and fountains. And the bazaars…” He paused for a moment, not quite able to stop the fond smile that widened his lips. “The bazaars of Minrathous are the finest in Thedas. Of that I can assure you. There isn’t a thing you could possibly covet that you wouldn’t be able to find there. The gemstones, the exotic foods, the trinkets, the fabrics…” Dorian let out a soft sigh. “I could go on.”

“Please do.”

Tristan had straightened and was now facing him, his eyes wide with wonder, hanging from his every word. Dorian blinked, taken aback for a moment. He didn’t quite know what he had expected when he started talking, yet it certainly wasn’t it. He had been fairly certain that the younger man had only asked about his homeland out of courtesy, that he probably didn’t care a fig, yet here he was. Reciting Tevinter poetry, listening intently while Dorian spoke, eagerly awaiting more. Who was he, then? Where had he come from?

Dorian looked away, a breathless laugh escaping him. “Perhaps I should show you some pictures. I doubt anything I could say would do it justice.”

A smile, warm and slow spreading, blossomed on Tristan’s face. “I’d love that.”

Dorian looked at him then, at the strands of flaxen hair carried by the salty breeze, catching in his eyelashes and his lips. Dorian returned his smile with one of his own, following Tristan’s gaze when it left him to focus on the setting sun, and its golden hues that fell upon the thrashing, violet waves. In the day’s waning light, Dorian could have sworn that his eyes had changed their colour to match that of the stormy sea below them.

“The sky puts on the darkening blue coat, held for it by a row of ancient trees; you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight, one journeying to heaven, one that falls; and leave you, not at home in either one, not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses, not calling to eternity with the passion of what becomes, a star each night, and rises; and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel) your life, with its immensity and fear, so that, now bounded, now immeasurable, it is alternately stone in you and star.”[4]

The words were carried by the wind, whirled in lazily circles about him, cradling him, enveloping him. The promenade was now empty save for the wandering seabirds, and it felt to him like they were both standing at the edge of the world; two people connected by a deep longing for the unknown, and companionable silence.

Dorian cleared his throat, swallowing through the knot that had found itself there. “Your ability to recite entire poems off the top of your head is truly astounding.”

Tristan hummed in amusement, and the flush that crept up his cheeks was definitely not because of the wind this time.

*****

[1] How many bards gild the the lapses of time! - John Keats

[2] Mutability - Percy Bysshe Shelley

[3] Carpe Diem - Horace, translated by James Michie

[4] Evening - Rainer Maria Rilke

#14daysofdalovers #dorian pavus #dorian pavus x trevelyan #dorian pavus/trevelyan #pavelyan #tristan trevelyan #johaerys writes

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catchester · 5 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Epiphany

Authors: @evieplease and @catchester

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Epiphany

I’m not much of a cook. I mean, I can feed myself but that cordon bleu shit is way out of my wheelhouse. I don’t really have the time or patience for it anyway. Tom beats me like a drum in the cooking stakes, but if there’s one thing I can cook perfectly, it’s a steak.

I also make wonderful, fat chips—twice cooked so they’re lovely and crispy outside, but fluffy inside. And I’ve mastered a couple of sauces, but creamy pepper is Tom’s favourite, so we’ll be having that.

I’d also bought a little bit of broccoli to ‘show willing’, as my gran used to say. It was an afterthought, but it looks pretty on the plate, so. . .

Normally I’d cook a ribeye but tonight I was going all out and had bought three, fat, juicy sirloin steaks. I was salivating just thinking about them.

I’d even bought a new dress, a little red dress—a nice companion for my overworked little black dress. I kind of love it. It’s figure hugging, but with a little flirty flare at the hem, and an almost exact match for my crimson Sephora lip stain. Looks great with my boots too. And I know that Tom will appreciate the back view. Just wearing the thing made me want to wiggle my arse for him!

I’d spent much of the day in my workshop, which is just a fancy way of saying the garage I rent near my flat that I store my spares and heavier equipment in. I knew I was pushing things time wise, but I was nervous, okay?

The fresh layer of snow didn't help matters, snarling up traffic and meaning my errand took twice as long as it should have.

I ended up having to leave my chips boiling while I got ready, and kept darting back to poke them with a knife. I was damn lucky I didn't overcook them and end up with mash, but somehow I didn’t.

I had just slid into my new dress when the buzzer went, and I scrambled to do the zip up before Tom and Diana reached my front door.

I didn’t quite make it, and had to greet Diana with my bra strap hanging out. Luckily Tom spotted my predicament and zipped me up the rest of the way, but not before Diana commented on how chilly I must be! But I got a kiss on the back of my neck from Tom, so it’s all good.

My flat might only be two bedrooms, but it was pretty spacious. I’d improved it a lot over the last five years and it was worth a small fortune thanks to London prices. I would never have been able to afford a flat in London if not for my Dad. Growing up, we’d lived in a council house, which Dad bought at a vastly reduced rate back in the 80s when Right to Buy came in. As such, his small mortgage was long paid off, and the prices had skyrocketed over the years, so when all three of his kids had flown the coop, he sold the four bedroom place and bought two flats in the same estate, but different blocks.

We’d drawn up a contract and when I reached what he’d paid for it, he’d transfer ownership to me, or it would come to me on his death, whichever came first. My brothers would get his larger flat to share between them. Good luck to ‘em! Those boys haven’t agreed on anything but the MCU since they were ten and twelve, and I can just about predict the rows they’ll have deciding to renovate or sell Dad’s place. I plan on sitting back and enjoying the show.

One of my improvements to my place was to knock down the wall between the living room and kitchen. Where the wall used to be I kept a narrow, oblong table that folded out into one that could comfortably seat four. My extra folding chairs were kept in a cupboard. In my defence, they’re very nice folding chairs and I have cushions I can tie on…

How naff. I’d hang my head in shame, but I know Diana will appreciate the irony.

Thank god I hadn't had time to worry like this earlier, or they’d likely have arrived to find me sloshed again! Speaking of which...

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, my stomach swooping, suddenly realising I should have picked up an extra bottle of wine! Bollocks! Wait, didn’t I have a nice one Tom bought as a gift a few months ago lurking at the back of a cupboard somewhere? I’d have to get it in the fridge ASAP.

“I don't have any red wine, I’m afraid, only rosé.” I worried my lip. I’m not really a fan of red wine, but red meat goes with red wine, and Diana would know that!

“Oh lovely, I like a nice rosé.” Diana to the rescue! God, I love that woman. She’s so polite.

I did find the bottle Tom had brought around before. It too was pink, but it was prosecco, not wine. Aah well, maybe that would work better as a dessert wine. Or, with luck, a fizzy celebration wine. I put it in the top of the fridge and opened the cold bottle of rosé.

“Here you go.” I handed them each a glass, but decided to have a beer myself so the wine would go further. I did decant my bottle contents into a tall glass for a change though because I’m at least attempting to be civilised tonight.

“You have a lovely home,” Diana said as I sat down on my L-shaped unit. It was a bargain I’d found on freecycle then re-upholstered, but it was a quality piece and looked expensive.

It’s not that I can’t afford a new sofa, even an expensive one—my business does well and my rent to my Dad is whatever I want to pay him. I pay quite a lot because I want him to get his investment in the flat back quickly, but he wouldn't mind at all if I took a whole year off payments because he trusts me. Plus, he’s semi retired now so all he does is answer the phones and do the books, for which he claims 30% of the profits. He started the business so I don’t begrudge him, and it means he isn't desperate for my rent as his income.

The real reason I upcycled my sofa is that she had such lovely bones, and I love crafty activities. After the renovations on the flat were done, I’d set about finding pieces I could give new life to. My bed mattress was brand new, but the headboard was second hand and recovered in a print to compliment the aqua and white paint in there. I’d stripped the old varnish off the wood parts and stained it new.

I asked Diana about the exhibition she was going to see and she explained it was actually a workshop where she’d be learning something called blackwork embroidery. I’d gathered from looking around her home that she was quite arty, but I hadn’t realised she enjoyed crafting too. It was nice to know we had something in common and I told her about a couple of my projects in the flat. I even told her the story of stapling my finger to the sofa she was sitting on, the very first time I used an upholstery gun, and she told me about some of her past projects.

After topping up their glasses, I began preparing the meal, but I could still chat to them as I worked. They wanted their steaks medium, which everyone defines differently but after some probing I determined that they liked it red inside, but not bloody cold, which was my preference too. Okay, maybe I like mine a little bloody, but it went on the skillet only 60 seconds after theirs.

I served my very fat chips in a sort of jenga tower with the middle bricks missing, being very careful not to wipe my greasy fingers on my red dress, then the steaks, a very healthy dollop of peppercorn sauce, and the broccoli topped with a knob of butter on the side.

“You led me to believe you weren’t a very good cook,” Diana gently chided me as we ate.

“I’m not,” I assured her. “I know how to cook, like, three things really well, this, lasagne, and a cheesecake, which we’re having for desert. Everything else falls somewhere between okay and inedible.”

“Do not ask her to cook fish,” Tom winked at me conspiratorially.

I laughed. He’d once said something about liking salmon, so I got a recipe and tried to cook it for him. It was all new to me, the only fish Dad or the boys would eat came from the fish and chips shop down the corner. Unfortunately no matter what I did the stuff tasted like dirt! Very fishy dirt! I ended up over seasoning, then overcooking it so much that it dried out and it really was inedible.

And it still tasted like dirt!

We’d ordered a curry instead.

“Well, these potatoes are amazing, you must give me the recipe,” Diana told me, smiling warmly at me.

It wasn't hard, so I explained it to her as we ate.

As well as complimenting me, Diana ooh’d and ah’d as she ate. Tom just ate steadily as if afraid someone might nick his plate if he slowed down, glancing up at me with a warm appreciative smile now and then, so I think they genuinely liked it.

Good, Diana would probably not like it if I poisoned her boy.

Talk of the salmon disaster naturally led onto other food related disasters, and I quickly learned I was in good company.

“Do you remember when you left some steaks out to defrost?” Tom asked his mum.

Apparently their neighbour’s cat had neatly chewed away all but the rind of fat while they were in the garden. Then there was the story of a time they’d been visiting a friend, and another friend’s dog had eaten the shepherd’s pie they were to be served!

The Guinness pie was my favourite story though. It was apparently a steak pie made with Guinness gravy, that Diana loved as a child. It was her father’s recipe, basically the only thing he cooked, and then only once or twice a year, on special occasions. She swore she followed the recipe her father gave her to the letter but it was awful.

“Turned my stomach, honestly,” she admitted, turning pink even after all these years.

Tom was grinning. “She served us all first, then she realised she’d forgotten the pot of English mustard and told us to all tuck in. Well we did, and there’s me, my sisters and my dad just looking at each other. We all knew she’d spent all day on this and was really looking forward to it. None of us had the heart to tell her we couldn't eat it. She came back and we all plastered smiles on and told her how wonderful it was, while helping ourselves to carrots.”

“That should have been my first clue,” Diana laughed. “Honestly, you’d have thought this one was allergic to vegetables, given how hard he tried to avoid them, and there he was larding his plate with carrots!”

“Then she took one mouthful and her face just turned grey,” Tom laughed. Diana reached out and playfully smacked his shoulder.

“I still tried it a second and third time, in case I’d made a mistake, although I didn't make the family try it. I thought that perhaps the stout needed to marinate longer, or be cooked at a higher temperature so it burned off, but each attempt was just as inedible as my first bite. My father was adamant that he’d given me the exact recipe he used. I gave up in the end and concluded that he must have substituted something else for the stout, possibly something like cider. I’ve tried other recipes with cider gravy over the years but never quite managed to replicate the same taste.”

I cleared the plates from the table but everyone wanted a little break before desert, which was fine with me.

“Has Tom told you about our 12 days gifts?” I asked Diana as I grabbed a box from a kitchen drawer.

Suddenly I had a sort of out of body experience where I was watching myself sit with Tom and his mum, I must be mad for even considering what I was about to do...

“He’s told me all about it,” she grinned. “What a lark! It sounds like you had great fun.”

“We did, but more than that, those gifts, specifically the thought Tom had put into his, had really brought home how much he cares for me.”

I handed Diana a gift box, about 6 inches by four, and maybe two deep. It wasn't wrapped but I had done it up in a fancy ribbon. Eventually she freed it from it’s ribbon prison and opened the lid.

There in the middle, nestling among some tissue paper (which was hiding some printer paper because I didn't have enough tissue paper, and I wasn’t using bog paper) sat a ring box.

“This looks interesting,” she murmured, reaching for the ring box.

I could hardly hear her over the hammering of my heart, and I couldn’t look at Tom. My hands were sweating, and my leg was jittering under the table.

As I got off my chair, my knees were trembling but I managed to move beside Diana’s chair before I collapsed to my knees. I barely made eye contact with Tom, who looked curious.

“It’s a. . . a ring?”

I had found an incredible rose gold, tungsten ring with a gorgeous burl wood inlay for Tom. I thought it would look warm and elegant on his left hand. It’s unusual, but once I saw it, I couldn’t even look at any bog standard men’s wedding bands. I hope he likes it. Diana’s finger traced thoughtfully over the design, so I think she liked it.

Diana looked up at me, eyebrows up and questions in her eyes. I shuffled around, less gracefully than I’d like until I was on one knee before her, in the traditional pose of a proposer.

I desperately wanted to look at Tom to see his reaction but I didn’t dare. I’d lose my bottle, if I did...

I took the ring box from her, but I was shaking so much I had to hold it with both hands. I cleared my throat, and sternly ordered myself not to tear up out of sheer nerves.

“This last year taught me a lot about Tom and our relationship, and I suppose you could say I’d had an epiphany about how much your son has come to mean to me. With that in mind, Diana, I..” My voice cracked and I had to clear it and try again. “I wonder if you would do me the honour of becoming my Mother-in-Law?

The next three seconds seemed to last an hour. Diana’s mouth opened in surprise as she stared down at the ring. Not unpleasantly surprised, but, oh god, she also wasn't answering me...

I shouldn't have done it this way, I shouldn't have brought Diana into this. I’d just thought it was a funny and quirky way to include her, but of course, she couldn't answer for Tom. This was such a stupid idea!

I saw Diana’s gaze flick in Tom’s direction and still couldn’t look at him. I kept my eyes steady on hers and wished the ground would open up to swallow me whole. Hell, it could take my whole apartment, as long as this nightmare stopped!

I could feel my eyes pricking with tears of humiliation. I should have got drunk again, then I’d probably be passed out and unable to make a fool of myself. Again. I lifted my chin and grabbed courage with both hands, waiting for the verdict.

Suddenly there was an arm around my shoulder and I realised Tom was kneeling beside me.

“Please, Mum, say yes!”

I’ve never felt so much relief as when I heard him say that. I swayed on my knees and my surroundings spun briefly as all the air seemed to rush back into the room.

Diana’s hand moved to her chest, patting it as if she’d had heart palpitations, her eyes twinkling down at me.

“Well I don’t know…” she deliberately drew out her response, the tease! “Don’t you think this is... awfully sudden, dear?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. What was she on about? She looked just exactly like Tom when he was about to spring a horrible pun on me, the same sly little smile lurking about her lips.

“I’m trying to think what those vows would be... ‘Do you, Rocky, take this woman, Diana, as your Awful Wedded Mother-in-Law? To poke and to prod, to stick her nose in where it isn’t wanted, and to generally make herself a pain in your arse? So help you baby Jesus?’

I grinned. Yep, I definitely wanted her! Tom choked beside me, laughing.

“Diana, that is exactly what I had in mind!” I nodded my head hard, my hair bouncing wildly around my head. “So, um, will you?”

Diana reached down and carefully pulled a strand of hair from my mouth, tenderly tucking it behind my ear, her eyes softened into the exact shade Tom’s get. Her hand cupped my cheek gently.

“Yes Rocky, I’d be delighted to be your Mother-in-Law.” she said softly. I heard Tom’s breath gust out in relief beside me. I knelt up, throwing my arms around her and squeezing hard. “Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. I cleared my throat, because I was not going to cry on Tom’s mum.

Diana put her hands on my arms, gently pushing me away, her eyes going behind me.

“I think there’s someone who wants his turn…”

Before I could even look his way, Tom had pulled me onto his thighs, wrapping his arms around me tightly and hugging me hard. One hand went into my hair and pulled my face up to his. There were tears in his eyes, and a crooked smile on his lips.

“Yes please, Rocky.”

Then he was kissing me fiercely, and by god, I was giving back, my hands clutching his shirt.

“Ahem…” Diana cleared her throat. I pulled away from Tom long enough to glance round at her.

“But you said I could have him!” I grumbled at her, hiding my elated laugh. Her eyes laughed right back at me.

“Yes dear, but not right now, if you please! I believe I was promised cheesecake!”

***

We put Diana in a cab back to Tom’s for the night, hugs and kisses all around. She even pinched my cheek! Tom and I stood, arms around each other’s waists, waving goodbye to her as she drove off

“What would you have done if she’d said ‘no’?” Tom’s tone was slyly curious as we made our way back up the stairs to my second floor flat. I blanched.

“Died of humiliation?” Even thinking of the possibility gave me cold shivers. But Tom had slid to his knees next to me.

“What would you have done?” I turned my face up to his, wondering if he’d have gone along with his mum. Tom scowled.

“Rocky, you know I love my mum. But I’d have told her to…” Tom stalled out as he considered his words. I cocked my head, waiting.

“I’d have told her to bugger off,” said the very civilised, posh idiot. I gasped, only then realising that I’d been holding my breath.

“But Rocky,” Tom stopped before the door to my flat and raised my chin to look into my eyes. “That was never going to happen, my love. Because Mum loves me, and she knows I love you. Also,” he grinned, “Mum likes you. And now she finds you very engaging.”

Well shit. My eyes teared up at least as much from the sentiment as from the pun. I stood on my toes and kissed him.

Tom opened my door and ushered me in, turning to close the door behind us. When he turned back, I pushed him against it, holding him there with a hand in the center of his chest.

My other hand slid down his torso to the waistband of his trousers, flicking the button open and sliding the zip down, ratcheting slowly.

I stared into his eyes, watching them darken from their Caribbean blue to steel, the creases at the corners of his eyes tightening.

“Rocky…” he breathed.

“Shhh…” I replied, slipping my hand into his trousers to grasp him. The posh idiot never wore pants, which was calculated to make me rethink the ‘posh’ part. Somehow, knowing that he was bare behind that zipper made me hard.

When my hand encountered all that hard, silky steel. Practically leaping into my hand, I could feel my pussy clench in sheer anticipation. I wanted that hard cock inside me, like, yesterday!

Oh wait. It was inside me yesterday!

I wrapped my hand carefully and firmly around his shaft, my thumb extending over his bell end to protect him from any chance zip or harsh denim scraping against that tender, sensitive tip.

I like that cock. I wasn’t going to allow it to be hurt on my watch! Besides, if it was going to be mine for the rest of my natural life, forsaking all others, it was in my best interest to see to its proper care and feeding!

My hand tightened around him, just thinking what I wanted to feed it into. Tom lifted a hand and set it onto the column of my throat. I swallowed, feeling my throat move against his palm.

Tom’s head was tilted down watching me as I blindly explored his cock with my hand, palming his length and running my fingertips up his shaft, all the way to the edge of his foreskin. I ran my finger around the rim, gently pushing it down and freeing the vulnerable, delicate bit of skin right beneath his cock head.

I lifted my forefinger, dipping it into the drop of precome waiting there for me, dropping down and letting my finger glide around the edge of his foreskin on the slick fluid, being sure to slide over the tender skin of his bell. How can something so soft be so hard?

I think of myself as hard, but I’m soft for Tom. Really, the only thing to do is to make him mine. Thank god he said yes. Or…

“Um…” I cleared my throat as I continued to glide my finger over him. “You did say yes, didn’t you? I mean, you get that having your mum as my mother-in-law actually entails you marrying me, right?” I lifted my eyes and searched his.

The blue of his eyes softened. His nose nuzzled below my ear.

“I do, Rocky. And yes, I will.”

All the air left my body and my fingers clenched on him, one hand on his chest, my nails digging into his skin, the other around his cock.

Tom hissed, and his hips shot forward into my fist, forcing his cock through the tight ring of my fingers.

“God, Rocky…” he groaned, his hands moving into my hair, thumbs on my jaw as he leaned down to kiss me roughly.

I stroked that silky smooth, incredibly hard length against my palm. Tom tore his mouth away, breaking our kiss and breathing hard. I took my opportunity to slip to my knees in front of him.

“Rocky...you don’t have-” He gasped.

“Tom,” I said sharply, “if you finish that sentence with ‘don’t have to suck my cock’, I might do you an injury!”

I squeezed his shaft, just to be clear what part might be injured.

“Right,” Tom gasped, “carry on, then.” He swallowed audibly hard, his hands clenching in my hair.

I grinned cheekily at him. “Don’t mind if I do!”

I dragged my free hand down his torso, firmly pushing his back against the door. I took a quick swipe at him with my tongue from stalk to tip and grinned up at him.

“I do what I want!”

I wrapped my lips around the head and gave a suck, swirling my tongue tip over and around the head.

I felt Tom’s deep throated groan vibrate through his body and onto my tongue. Stopping for a second, I looked up at him, for once with no quip on the tip of my tongue.

“I love you, Tom.”

Tom’s eyes completely dilated and he thrust into my fist, his cockhead pushing between my lips, and suddenly he was coming against my mouth.

My hand pumped over his cock, squeezing and pulling his climax from him, licking his come from around my lips and working the rest out in hot ropes onto my neck and chest.

Tom made a tortured noise, his hands clenching in my hair and hips thrusting helplessly. I gentled my hand, holding it still and warm over his softening shaft as he panted above me.

“Rocky…”

I tore my eyes away from the sight softening in my hand and looked up.

“You undo me, my love.”

His hands moved to my arms and lifted me to stand, wrapping his arms and body around me like a loving cloak.

I nuzzled my nose into the patch of hair in the center of his chest.

“Love you, Tom,” I murmured into his skin, speaking directly to his thumping heart. The arms around me tightened.

“Come along. I have something for you.”

“I hope it’s a hot flannel!”

Tom snickered and trod across the room into the kitchen, dragging me to the sink and wetting a tea towel. He wiped us both clean, and tossed the towel on the side.

He’d left his tablet on the table. Pulling a chair out, he sat, tugging me down onto his lap. He reached for the tablet.

I was wondering if he planned to treat me to porn, or puppies. I never know with Tom, which is of course, one of the things I love about him. He swiftly swiped through a few screens and brought up a file.

“Here, what do you think?” He pushed the tablet into my hands and set his chin on my shoulder, looking over me at the screen.

My hand flew to my mouth, fingers trembling over it as I stared down at a page of gorgeous, conflict free, diamond engagement rings.

“I didn’t want to choose one without you, and I honestly didn’t know what sort you’d like, since you never wear rings or other jewelry,” Tom murmured.

My hand dropped down to the partridge in a pear tree necklace Tom had given me on the First Day of Christmas.

“Except your partridge,” he acknowledged. “But I chose that, so I really have no idea what your taste in jewelry is.

I was speechless as Tom slowly scrolled through several pages of rings, all sorts, my eyes filling as it finally dawned on me that Tom had been planning to ask me, or was at least thinking about it, when a teardrop landed on the screen. His arm stole around my waist as he turned his head and kissed my neck.

I sniffled, slightly embarrassed, and let out a watery laugh.

“What’s funny, love?”

I sniffled again. “I got engaged today, and here you are, making me cry.”

Tom chuckled.

“Though it might just be PMS.”

Tom lifted his head with a great shout of laughter. “Oh darling, with you it’s probably the entire alphabet!” Tom teased.

He brought up another page, this time with rubies and sapphires and such. My breath caught at a dark red, square cut stone with two smaller, smokey coloured square cut stones set on either side, all swirled about in a fanciful gold setting. It was stunning,

I reached out a finger and touched it. The image changed, showing other angles of the ring.

“Ooh, I like that one!” Tom wriggled a bit under me in his enthusiasm. “You like coloured stones? Unusual settings? So much better than boring old diamonds, don’t you think? Bloody marvelous, aren’t they?”

I nodded, my throat tight. I hadn’t even given any thought to a ring for me, yet.

“Tom, I must tell you though, it’s unlikely that I’ll wear it much. With my job, my hands are in and out of all sorts of muck…”

“That’s alright then.” Tom hugged me. “There are plenty of times that I can’t wear jewelry on my job, too. On stage or filming, and so forth. We’ll just have to work out a routine for taking them off before going to work, and putting them back on when we get home. Think of it as putting on and taking off your shoes, only in reverse!”

My head spun with all the things that we haven’t talked about. Oh my god, I don’t know how to throw a wedding! Budget, guest list, venue, flowers, bridesmaids, grooms men, catering, open or closed bar, the dress… the list seemed endless and I knew I was probably forgetting a dozen other things.

“I guess there’s still loads of things to work out before we do this thing, right?”

“We can take as long as we need,” he soothed, sensing my unease. “And if we want, there are people we can hire who take care of the organisation.”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath and tried to relax. “As long as you don’t expect me to look like some giant, frothy meringue.”

“Never,” he laughed. “And if you get one of those dresses with a thousand pearly buttons down the back, expect them to get torn off on the wedding night.”

The idea of being torn out of my wedding dress actually turned me on a little. Is that bad?

“Oh, you like that idea,” Tom purred.

“It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

“Well I’ll have to practice,” he told me, his face the picture of sincerity. “We’ll start easy, maybe try ripping a robe off, then we’ll graduate to t-shirts and shirt-shirts and before you know it’ I’ll be ready to destroy your wedding dress in my haste to get to you.”

“Or,” I said, holding a finger up as I presented my counter argument, “You could just destroy me right now and I’ll wear a white string bikini on the wedding day.”

“Only if I get to wear white speedos.”

“Fine, but you also need a white bow tie.”

Imagining literally the worst of the worst white trash wedding was kind of fun.

“And white flip-flops,” Tom added.

“What about if we want a winter wedding?” I asked.

“White wet suits,” he answered without missing a beat. “I’ll draw a string bikini on yours in Sharpie marker pen.”

“And I’ll be sure to outline your English countryside. Very much looking forward to shading in your arse crack.”

That was the remark that made us lose it and we laughed until our sides hurt.

Eventually we calmed down, with just the occasional giggle reemerging as we lay there.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong,” Tom purred, “but I believe there was some mention of me destroying you?”

“Well yes. I’d hate for you to be embarrassed on the wedding night because we hadn’t practised.”

I swear I heard him growl as he pounced on me, his smile positively wolfish.

Oh dear, I had awoken the beast and now I was doing to pay.

I shivered in anticipation.

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