#tableside talk

[gildedkrone]

KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Simon “Ghost” Riley sits with his back into the large lounge chair made specifically for his stature and size. The cushion cradles his worn body now christened with more bruises and scars from a recent mission as a lowly sigh slips past chapped lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently spreads his thighs further apart when you come to a stop beside him. Your eyes search for permission and it’s written in his tired eyes to continue. He gets cold feet—so unlike him—when you sink to your knees and rest your hands on his thighs flanking you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wonders how he has gotten into this situation. A few weeks ago when Soap badgered him about his sex life and preferences. He almost throttled the sergeant when he mentioned you are a good candidate for his giant dick. It’s true that he is well endowed; if the makers had a favourite, he is one of them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley has had his fair share of unpleasant sexual encounters where his partner would balk at the size of his dick. More than once, he feels objectified when his previous partners would reduce him down to nothing but the organ between his legs and on some occasions, they turned him down after seeing it. The resulting shame burns his face and the ensuing cigarette smoke works in a bid to calm his agitated nerves.

Simon “Ghost” Riley knows it’s been close to a month since his last encounter with his right hand under the spray of warm water in his private toilet and bath. His sex drive is a swarm of bees forming a nest in his consciousness and growing louder by the day until his control over his urges are waned sufficiently for them to take over.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nearly balks when you casually mention you are available—he knows you must’ve heard Soap’s talk. He considers turning it down, that is before you suggest something simple. No penetration; just your mouth and his dick. A kiss ending in pleasure and release for him between two men. He’s worked with you before and trusted you with his life on the battlefield.

Simon “Ghost” Riley takes a few weeks to accept and now, you’ve been summoned to his private quarters on the base. It’s sparsely decorated and he goes to unbuckle his belt if your hand hadn’t stopped him. Let me do it, you eyes say and he relinquishes the act. The belt clicks open and the zipper is drawn down before the whole garment is pulled down to his knees.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wears a simple pair of white cotton boxers for the occasion and he stiffens slightly when a hand gently cups his clothed package. When he’s feeling ready, he grunts at the feeling of wet warmth laving up his boxer briefs. He sees your head resting against his thigh and under the single tableside light, it paints your face something orange and warm.

Simon “Ghost” Riley sucks in a deep breath when he is sufficiently chubbed up from the ministrations of your mouth and the garment feels too tight for comfort; the obscene tent is proof enough. Your hands come to grasp the elastic waistband to pull down his boxers and he prepares himself for what always comes next.

“You’re beautiful, Simon.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels it’s a joke when his dick is exposed to the air. There’s no feelings of shame or disgust; there’s only a soft wonder in your eyes reserved for him. He grunts a little louder when fingers come to wrap around the shaft. All the time, your eyes remain in contact with his when he melts at the tentative strokes and squeezes of his engorged dick. Asking if he’s ready to continue.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nods and your response is wordless. A few more strokes has him standing proudly erect and a moan escapes without his permission when your mouth descends on his dick. The previous feeling of damp warmth is replaced with the wet, velvety heat gently making its way down from the head to the base of his dick.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wrestles the urge to slam your head into his pelvis to speed up the process. It feels blindingly good and his hand comes nowhere close to what he is feeling. He exhales roughly when you nose brushes against his groin—he dimly registers your lack of a gag reflex. Never before has anyone taken him fully and his dick agrees as well when it throbs with the unsatiated lust pooling in his groin in something shimmery.

Simon “Ghost” Riley moans when your head pulls upwards to stop at the tip and he groans when a tongue slips past delectable lips to lick at his slit. Nothing is overly sexual in nature, and you blow him a penile kiss as a shiver runs up his spine. The sensation of his balls being caressed gently only serves to make him even harder and his hips jump forward as he leans back further into the chair.

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels some sort of way when you take him again, this time, however, not fully with a hand at the base of his dick. His thoughts flee with his rationality when your mouth combines with the pleasurable message of his balls chockful of his month-old cum. He fights demons, fights gods, and himself to not mistreat your mouth as it brings him waves of pleasure in ever greater crests.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a vocal man, but the ever growing grunts and groans are his way of showing how much he is enjoying this experience. The pace of the intimate act speeds up and his grip on the chair is leaving deep imprints into the material. It feels divine, the way his dick is encased in a cocoon of sinful sensations his hands and previous partners could never deliver.

Simon “Ghost” Riley rests a hand against your face as he feels the knot of pleasure building in his pelvis. Unlike his previous rough and hard experiences, this slowly growing knot ignites something fuzzy in him. It’s edges are soft and he can’t pinpoint exactly how it feels, just that it feels different in the best way possible and leaves him a lustful man seeking more of where it came from.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t used to the sensual and slower pace of sex you are taking him on and he feels his peak arriving far too quickly. He prides himself on having a stamina rivalling bulls and a self-control rigid as iron clasps. Under the assault of your mouth, however, he finds his defences failing him one by one as his body twitches and flexes with the sheer visceral pleasure thrumming through his core. All from that lascivious mouth also producing the obscene noises of the coupling he’s in.

Simon “Ghost” Riley’s lips aren’t his anymore as he bites out praises and words. "Y-yes, fuck, right there, baby" and "Y-yer doin' so, so fuckin' good" are several of your favourites as you work dutifully to bring the man the euphoria he so deserved. A “good f-fuckin’ boy” is motivation to get you to redouble your efforts and work to give him the best blowjob he will ever have in his life.

Simon “Ghost” Riley grits his teeth harshly when you hollow your cheeks to apply maximum contact against the angry and very ready organ in your mouth. The dance of pleasure nears its grand finale and he seeks permission to dirty your mouth. You squeeze his thigh gently with your free hand and he hips surge when the tongue brushes under the frenulum of the already sensitive head jamming into the back of your throat. Everything, from the air to the coarse feeling of the fabric on the seat serves to inflame the sensations he’s experiencing and further edge him.

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man standing at the precipice of control and mid suck, you feel it; the telltale shudder of his dick and his sudden choked gasp of “close!” ends in a loud grunt when you sink fully down his dick and warmth floods your orifice. His orgasm hits him like a runaway freight train and he just sinks into the chair to ride out the sexual gratification mending into relief and euphoria at the edges of his perception.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently strokes your hair and temple as he cums hard and unleashes a month’s worth of pent up ball batter into your throat greedily sucking and milking him for all he’s worth. The world narrows down into this instance of time where nothing matters. Nothing but his feelings catching up to blindside him in a mirage where his fingers intertwine with yours and the dam of emotions fully crumble under a release cathartic as divinity is all encompassing; he finds the waves of satiation lapping at his parched lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a religious man by any means; his childhood is proof god has abandoned him. But this, this might have been his reward for overcoming his demons. Written by the deities of the stars and for him. Only him in the intimacy of his home with someone he trusted to experience the nirvana promised to him and every other man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley basks in the afterglow propping up his consciousness as his wrung out body is content to remain where it is while your mouth keeps his spent dick comfortable and warm. No stamina can ever compete with a release as monumental and with the kind of finality that robbed him of strength and left him strutless and fully relaxed.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wants to repay your act with pleasure when he spots the tightness of your combat pants. You shake your head and tell him tonight has been all about him and making him feel as good as he possibly can. He frowns when you insist but drops the topic when he feels warmth envelope his softening dick. There’s no urgency to do anything; he doesn’t feel capable of another round.

Simon “Ghost” Riley cups your cheek with rough, calloused fingers and lifts the balaclava up to his nose. He mouths, thank you.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

[pedge-page]

Wait ok hear me out. Bored preggo wife starts reading smut and finds she really enjoys a breeding kink/men getting real nasty and aggressively talking about breeding their woman. So she asks Joel to try it and when he does, she’s like grossed out “uhh… nevermind” and he’s so fuckin frustrated and blue balled 😂

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Role Play Me Not

Notes: Thank you for your patience with these requests lately, this one was from March and I've been thinking about it ever since!

warnings: almost smut, lots of dirty talk and degrading language, and usual shennanigans with these two

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s pretty late, Joel’s body is wracked, and nothing feels better than the foam mattress bed he’s curled up on. You had a pretty good day, judging by your happy soft hums and scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Hopefully whatever nonsense thing you’re gonna purchase with his card and surprise his doorstep tomorrow morning won’t be too harrowing, but for now, he’ll live with it if it means some rest.

But your incessant giggles, matched with the way you’re shrinking under your brightly lit phone reading something so furiously just begs Joel to ask:

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothin!” You quip quickly, rotating best you can so he can’t see the obvious thing you’re hiding on your phone.

“Okay.” He tosses the cover over his shoulder and presses his head back into the pillow again to close his eyes.

Obviously not the answer you wanted, so you loudly snort with your fake ass ‘Tee Hee!’ again because this motherfucker better take the god damn hint.

He sighs. “What.”

“Hmm? Nothin!”

Joel squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. You can’t see his face from your side, but even if you could, he doesn’t think it would deter you.

You clear your throat before uttering your loudest and most obnoxious giggle.

“JUST—!” Tossing the covers down and rolling to his back, he remembers to take a breath, channeling his calm bear voice. “—just show me already. Please.” He’s exhausted, rubbing his face with both hands before holding out one palm behind him for you to place your phone.

You excitedly shove it in his grasp, and Joel rolls over to see. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the brightness, so he collects his reading-glasses from the tableside and props them upon his nose.

Its quiet for a solid minute, and your heart is racing as he stare at his broad back, the fabric of his shirt all stretched tight to accentuate that massive man of man that is your manly man—

He rolls back over with a questionable uncertainty, fear and paralysis mixed with concern and shock.

You’re giddily nodding your head, lips tucked under your teeth from the excitement. “Can we do that?”

He opens his mouth but no words come out. He doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“This is—uh. you like…this?”

“Well I don’t know, but I wanna give it a try…”

He scratches his skull with two fingers, hoping it’ll dig deep enough to itch the bad feeling he has in his brain. “I don’t know, baby, It’s a bit … much.” 

“But you call me your pretty slutty wife sometimes! It’s not much different!”

He glances back at the vivid words on the screen. It is VERY much different than that. But you put on your famous puppy pout, with those big round gleaming eyes, trembling fishy lips staring up at him, topping it off by squishing your tits together so they’re bursting out of the nightgown and smashing into his chest.

That’ll do it.

He shrugs, chucking his bifocals behind him with renewed energy arousing his body, especially down south. He gets to his knees, pulling your cover off from your lap and tracing his big hands over the soft expanse of your thigh like a new toy. you bite your lips, shouldering off your spaghetti straps so your tits are close to being popped out. He rolls the soft fabric of your gown up your growing belly and presses his lips against the swell. “Shit, that’s what I like to see. Gonna be a little fuck toy whore for Daddy to play with?”

“Ah…time out.” You hold your hands in a T formation. He stops rubbing and looks down towards your face. 

“Uh—yes?”

“I don’t like whore.”

“Ah okay—Daddy’s fuck toy?”

“Ok that’s—mmm.”

“What? No good?”

“It’s just ok. We’ll work on that. You can keep going.”

He shakes his head a little but resumes his gentle ghost of his fingers and lips, cascading lower until the scratchy prickle of his beard is at your naval. “Bred ya nice n’ good huh? Little breedin’ stock just f’me—“

“Oh hold on.”

“What.”

“Breeding ‘stock’? What am I, chicken soup?” You chuckle.

He purses his lips. “I don’t know, it was in the damn fic you made me read!”

“Okay okay, sheesh!” You toss your hands up.

“Can I please keep goin now?”

You nod, and he commences lower. 

“Body was made for breeding. Now spread those petals—“

“Oh what I’m a flower now?”

“Damnit, Baby! Am I doin this or not??” He curses. 

You go quiet and nod again, shrinking in against the headboard.

“Just about had it with ya whinin’, baby. I should tie you up like the naughty cow you are—“

“Farm metaphor again?”

“N BREED YOU—“ he seethes, gripping your thighs and hitching them around his hips so you can feel his bulge press into your core. “Breed you over and over again, like the dumb little cum dump you deserve—“

“Ugh hold up this position isn’t comfortable I need ta—“ you wiggle out of his grasp and begin trying to alleviate the pressure your baby is putting on your spine. Joel all but abandons holding your legs as he sits on his knees in front of you with his thumb and finger pressed tightly into his eye sockets. 

You wiggle and roll, unable to find a good position to sink yourself comfortably. The bed shifts with each turn, and Joel is damn near done role playing with you and about to just fuck you with your face down in the mattress whether you wanted to or not when—

“Okie! I’m ready Daddio!” You announce. 

You’re in the exact same position.

“Are we good to continue?” He asks slowly, his frustration being held at bay along with his hard cock that’s begging for some action finally.

You nod. 

He finally tugs his dick out and positions it at your entrance, spitting onto your slit. “Now shut up, take this fucking cock, and let me fuck my seed into you cuz that’s all ya good for—“

“Ya know what.” You wave your hand over this whole scene. “I’m done. This is … no. Nevermind, I’m done with this. M’ready for bed now.”

You slap his cock away like it’s a needy hand and roll to your side, slinking the cover over your shoulder again and turning off your light with a little grin. 

Joel just falls back on his haunches, his cheeks puffed red, balls swollen blue, fully awake all over, with a grumpy cat-worthy scowl etched into his face staring down at you.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[sweetbans29]

Come On Now - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin being super proud you are her wife (based off of THIS request)

Warnings: fluff, Caitlin as wife

Word Count: 2.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hope you all enjoy!

It is the night of the draft and you could not be more excited for Caitlin. The two of you had been anticipating this night for weeks now and it has finally arrived.

You were currently with her family as she was getting ready for one of the biggest nights of her life. The two of you are texting back and forth - both excited and nervous about how the night is about to unfold. There is no doubt that she will be drafted, but knowing that this also holds a big shift to both of your lives is what has you nervous with anticipation of what that looks like. As you text her, you keep her updated on how her family is doing. In return, she sends photos of her getting ready.

She is being dressed by Prada which is sort of a big deal. The two of you talked about it the night before. Caitlin was super excited to be sporting a boxy satin blazer and matching satin pants. The two of you were eating takeout in your shared hotel room and she was telling you about it. She also mentioned how she was going to be wearing a sequined crop top under the blazer. You knew she was going to look amazing regardless of what she was wearing. The two of you spent the night talking about how your journey got to this point.

You met Caitlin in high school and ended up going to college together. It was in college that your relationship really grew into one that eventually led to marriage. The two of you got married the summer before senior year in the backyard of your childhood home. It was a smaller wedding that really only had family and some close friends. It was perfect for the two of you.

Caitlin's game senior year took off as she began breaking records and drawing massive attention to women's basketball. It made for a very interesting first year of marriage but everything that the two of you faced only grew your relationship.

As you arrive at the draft, you meet up with some of Caitlin's teammates and grab a few drinks. Once her family arrives, you connect with them to take your seats at Caitlin's table. You shoot Caitlin a text saying you all made it and can't wait to see her. They had tableside service for all of the people at the player's tables while the girls were arriving on the orange carpet. They came around offering some pretty tasty apps. The last message you sent Caitlin is that you saved her a few of the appetizers in a napkin just in case they stopped serving them before she got there.

Meanwhile, Caitlin is making her way down the orange carpet getting stopped by all sorts of questions.

"Caitlin, who do you got winning a 3-point contest? Yourslef blindfolded or a prime Shaq?" The interviewer asks and Cait lets out a little laugh.

"Shaq," she says without hesitation.

"Really?" The interviewer asks.

"Yeah I mean I - blindfolded is crazy. I can't see the rim. Shaq, I'll let Shaq take that." Caitlin says with confidence.

She thanks the interviewer and heads to the next. Before she is out of earshot, she hears the interviewer tell one of the other girls that everyone said Caitlin Clark, and the only person who said Shaq was Caitlin herself.

When she heads to the next, they hand her a mini ESPN mic for her to use to answer.

"How many unread text messages do you have right now?" The interviewer asks as Caitlin pulls out her phone.

"33 right now, not bad." She says as she gets a glimpse of who has been texting her.

"Who is the last person who has texted or called you?" The interviewer asks hoping the girl in front of her would be willing to share.

"The last person to text me was..." She looks at her phone and lets out an uncontrolled laugh. She sees your message about saving her some food in a napkin. "It's a text from my wife," Caitlin says without thinking much about it. "She texted me letting me know that she saved me some of the appetizers they were serving just in case I don't get there in time." Your wife was full-on exposing you right now and you had no idea.

The interviewer has so many more questions as this is the first time Caitlin has ever mentioned anything about a wife in any interview that they know of up to this point and they want to ask more about the subject but Caitlin is ushered to move on.

A few of the interviewers around her begin to crowd her and ask her about her comment about her wife. Caitlin was not expecting that to be such a surprise as it has never been a secret. But it has also never been explicitly stated.

The girl that was posted with Caitlin to keep her moving decides it is too much for the space and leads Caitlin inside. Once they are out of the orange carpet she turns to Caitlin.

"Well that was a fun announcement," she says leading her to her table and to you.

"It's not a secret or anything," Cait says not really understanding the weight of her comment.

"It's not bad, just be prepared to get more questions regarding her." Caitlin just shrugs and begins to look for you and her family.

Once she sees you, you stand to greet her. She goes to hug her parents and brothers first then does a little waddle up to you and allows you to wrap her in your arms.

It is how she always walks up to you - almost childlike. It is one of your favorite things ever. It is even better right now because she is wearing a little heel which makes her even taller than she already is. Your arms wrap around her neck and her arms come wrap around your torso.

As you sit, you are excited to pass her the food you saved for her. You grab it from the napkin and put it in front of her. She laughs at how excited you are about this out of all things on this night, you are excited about this.

"So I may or may not have just let the world know that we are married," she says as she takes a bite of the bread.

"It's not like we were hiding it," you say with a little laugh.

"That's what I was saying, but the girl who was guiding me through the carpet said that was some groundbreaking news," Caitlin says with a shrug. You shrug as well as you lean over to give her a little peck before taking a piece of her bread.

"Hey! You saved this for me," she says trying to keep the rest of the food away from you.

"Yes but you love me and I love bread," you say leaning into your girl and trying to get another bite. Caitlin folds as she brings the bread to you so you can take a bite.

"You are unbelievable," Caitlin says as she brings you into her and kisses your head.

Caitlin is the first one drafted, heading to the Indiana Fever. This is what you and the family were expecting and are beyond ecstatic when her name is called. After hugging everyone at the table she heads up. When she walks off the stage she heads to a press table.

"Caitlin, Caitlin! You are the first to be drafted tonight, how are you feeling?" One of the interviewers asks.

"I feel great," she starts. "This night means so much to me and it overall just an emotional night. I have dreamed about getting here and now that it is happening, I am just trying to soak it all in and not rush through any of it."

"Caitlin, you mentioned earlier that you have a wife. This was news to a lot of us, is she excited about how tonight unfolded?" Another reporter asks.

"Ya, she is super pumped that we will be going to Indiana. There is a lot of opportunity for both of us there. She has been my biggest supporter since high school so being here now and knowing she is with me when I head into the WNBA, there is no feeling like it." Caitlin answers.

There are a few more questions asked before she heads back and is taken to other interviews and press moments. The night comes to a close at a restaurant with friends.

While you are there, Caitlin and you end up taking some cute photos which both of you end up posting. You weren't going to miss the opportunity to show off your hot wife in a Prada suit.

Over the next few weeks, the media goes absolutely insane with Cailtin coming out and saying she has a wife. Your social media has blown up and the amount of posts that have appeared with you and Caitlin in them has been insane. It was really neat to see how much love Caitlin's fan base has but at the same time - you have had to limit yourself because even with all the love, there has also been so much hate.

Caitlin's first game is tonight. You are incredibly thankful that it is a home game. You look forward to getting to travel to see your girl play but for her first one, there is just something special about being in their new home that makes it even more exciting.

You decide to sport Caitlin's new Indiana Fever jersey to the game. When you get there you join in with the other wives and significant others. You are thankful when Danielle comes over and takes you to sit with her.

Seeing how Erica Wheeler has taken Caitlin in during training, it was only fitting that her wife Daniella take you in when it came to supporting their wives at games.

The game starts and Cait is locked in, not a nerve seen on her face or in her body. Her whole career was prepping her for this moment.

Your leg taps as you watch your girl do what she does best, dominate on the court. During the first quarter, Caitlin puts up 10 points - 6 of them from deep threes. It is something else seeing her play at this level.

The second quarter isn't much different, she puts up another 3, this time from the logo. Classic. You stand and cheer her on as she really feeling herself which brings you so much pride.

The third quarter is when things really start to heat up, she has 4 assists in this quarter alone. Not only that but she puts up 2 threes - both from pretty deep, taking a foul on one. She seems unstoppable and the crowd is eating it up.

In the fourth quarter, the defense guards her harder, but Caitlin being Caitlin reads the game and is able to be the playmaker during this quarter. She uses her team, passes well, and makes plays happen. She gets one final 3 from the logo to close out the game.

The Fever takes the win and the crowd comes down to the court.

You make your way to the court, looking for Caitlin. She finds you before you find her. And when she does, she brings you into the biggest hug, squeezing all the air you had in you out. You tap her shoulder to signal for her to release you. When she does, you lean back and give her the same look you have since high school. It is the 'I am so proud of you' look that holds so much love for the girl. She smiles at you and you let her go to celebrate with her team.

You make your way to the tunnel with Danielle.

"So how does it feel mama?" Danielle asks, knowing there is nothing like the first game.

"Exhilarating," you say. "There is never a time she doesn't make me proud."

"She sure makes her presence known in the WNBA, I am looking forward to how she continues to push us on the map," Danielle says as she walks you into a room that is playing the press conference.

Caitlin comes in and sits in between Aliyah and Erica. A smile plastered on her face.

"Caitlin! Caitlin, you just came in and dominated in your first WNBA game. What was going through your head?" One of the reporters asks.

"Uhh well, I came here to play and that is exactly what I did." Caitlin puts it plainly.

"You came in and made a statement for sure. You played tremendously - what had you playing the way you did?" Another reporter asks.

"Well, my pretty little lady was in the stands. You know I had to go out there and give my all for her, come on now," she says with a little smirk. "That's how I got her attention in college and can't lose it now, gotta keep her coming back."

Caitlin says this and it causes you to laugh. She talks like you have an option of not coming to watch her.

The reporters continue to ask questions to the team. When they are done with press and get to come back to head out for the night. YOu meet Cait.

"Hey babe," your wife says as she approaches you. She brings you to her side and kisses the top of your head.

"So you gotta keep me coming back, eh?" You ask her, pointing at her first post-game press conference. She shakes her head and hides her face in your neck, placing a little kiss just under your ear. When she brings her face out, you see the slightest blush grace her cheeks.

"Well ya, don't want you getting bored," Caitlin says, slightly embarrassed at what she said.

"CC, I will never get over watching you," you say as you take her hand into yours.

"Good," she says and walks you out of the stadium.

"I married you didn't I?" You say teasing her. "But I hope you never stop trying to impress me."

She lets your hand go, bringing you into her side again wanting to be closer to you.

"How did I get so lucky with you?" Caitlin asks.

"You shot multiple logo threes in high school to shut up a crowd of boys," you say giving her side a little poke.

She laughs the most adorable laugh and takes you home.

AN: I really like the idea of cute Caitlin. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[mochie85]

PaleyFest 2024

I am not fully recovered from last night. Besides the fact that it was pouring in Los Angeles, and cold 🥶, I had a great time. My friend @chrisevansmaindish came with me and I met @loopsisloops and @tallseaweed @chantsdemarins and they're all so lovely people. Have you ever met someone and just felt an instant kismet with them, like they're supposed to be in your life for a reason?

These ladies are it! They were so genuine and loving and we all fed into each other's delulu 🤣!

They screened season 2, episode 6 (which had me bawling 😭) Then they had Tom, Owen, and Sophia come out along with 2 directors and one of the writers.

Tom is so tall! And genuinely handsome and debonair. He is exactly like you see in all the interviews. It ended way too soon. I could listen to Tom speak all night.

Afterwards, the girls and I went to a lounge where they had amazing drinks and a tableside magician (who didn't come to our table BTW, mucho dissapointed) but the company was great. We talked about Tom, and books, and why were in love with Loki. And fanfiction, and all kinds of stuff.

Amazing night. 😍 I only wish we could do it again!

I have now succumb to a fever, aches and chills. My body will need to recover from this excitement. Pray for me lol.

[jazminrhode1]

The Doctor's Office Sturniolo Triplets x Reader One Shot

Trigger Warning: Needles, Shots, Doctor's Office

Summary: You're best friends with the boys and they ask you to come along with them when they go to get their shots.

Notes: N/a

They had been hyping themselves up the whole drive and you knew they'd chicken out when they got to the doctor's office.

Nick was first up and he was talking way more than usual - a telltale sign that he was freaking out. "Can you please hold my hand, y/n?" he says. You roll your eyes but, you oblige.

In a second it was over and he almost looked embarrassed at how dramatic he was being.

Matt was next and you could tell he was trying to play it cool. At the last second, he reached out to grab your hand and squeezed it so hard, it hurt like hell - you were pretty happy to be in the doctor's office at this point.

When it was over, he stood up and his whole body shuddered. He shuffled over to you as he held his arm. He leaned into you, burying his head in your shoulder. "That was awful" he whispered and you wrapped your arms around him making an effort to avoid where he just had his injection.

"No one's gonna hold my hand?", Chris asked boisterously. He sounded a lot braver than he looked.

Matt sat down as you reached out for Chris' hand. He laced his fingers through yours and braced for impact. As the doctor took his arm Chris' eyes opened wider and you saw the color drain from his face.

"Chris?" you asked, concerned. The doctor looked over and put the needle back on the tray. "Did you want to lie down for this one?" he asked.

Chris nodded slowly, eyes still wide open. You help him up onto the examination table and stood by his head as the doctor rolled his stool to the tableside.

Chris looked up at you, you could see panic in his eye. All of a sudden there was no sign of your hilarious best friend - the six-year-old you met in elementary school was looking back at you. You couldn't reach his hand so you stroked your fingers through his hair and rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"You'll be ok," you said, "it'll be over in 2 seconds".

And, just like that, the needle was out and the doctor was placing a bandaid on Chris' arm. He placed a hand on Chris' chest and said, "Take a minute... relax... there's no rush to get up... it's over".

Chris lay there for what felt like an eternity before he sat up. The color had returned to his complexion and the doctor had finished their paperwork.

"All done," the Doctor said as he stood up and helped Chris to his feet. "You're lucky your girlfriend was here to support you" he joked.

"She's not my girlfriend", said Chris sadly. The doctor looked embarrassed and he scurried to the door.

As you followed Nick and Matt out of the office, the doctor pulled Chris aside. "Distractions are a waste of time. When you find someone like her, you don't let her go" he said as he patted Chris on the back.

You turned around just long enough to see a smile spread across Chris' face as he nodded in agreement. As you walked out of the office side by side, you couldn't help but stare at Chris. "What?" he asked sheepishly. "Nothing," you lied.

[currymanganese]

If we look at the dishes Syd has developed for the menu in S1 and S2 as visual/culinary representations of her relationship with Carmy and the merging of their lives and backgrounds, then in Season 2, is Carmy the frozen concord grapes to Syd's beef consommé or vice versa?

If we look at this dish this way, consommé is a light, but rich, flavourful and nourishing broth. Is this a metaphor for Syd's, "love [for] taking care of people," as Carmy said? And is Carmy akin to the frozen grape because of his sense of isolation, his self loathing and his self sabotage, despite his not so secret soft/sweet nature? He also ultimately locked himself in the walk-in by the season finale...If this dish is truly a representation of Syd and Carmy, then just as Carmy suggested that they plate and serve the dish by pouring the hot broth over the grapes tableside, then in the course of their working relationship, just like they experience during their 'tableside' talk in Omelette, then Syd and Carmy, and Carmy in particular, is due for a big (Sydney induced) thaw.

If all of this is true, then it'll be fitting if 'You Are Not Alone', which was used in Season 2 Episode 2 during Syd's conversation with her father, is also a reflection of Syd's feelings toward Carmy and vice versa.

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 13: širdies

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2.2k a/n: this one is a bit smaller than usual and it's a lil uneventful. kind of a filler chapter as i set grounds for the next one lmao first|next

You're not exactly sure when you fell asleep - well, more than likely, passed out, but when you woke up, you found yourself in your room at Pops’ house. It makes sense Marco brought you here. You probably weren't safe in your own place. You had no idea who would come after you or even if anyone would come after you. People didn’t typically know where Pops’ lived and he’s been out of the scene long enough that they should leave him alone for the most part.

You just hoped that they wouldn’t drag him into your mess like you had everyone else.

That, and being alone probably wasn't the best idea. This way Marco could keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't run off. He was well aware of your bad habits; take just the other night for example. He didn’t want to have to hunt you down again. He’d already done that once this week. You only did it once in a blue moon, but this way he could prevent it from happening in the same week. 

You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you , but it was dark outside. You rolled over and glanced to your tableside; the clock read three in the morning and your phone laid there with a shattered screen. You didn’t even bother trying to see if it worked. Who did you have to get a hold of right now? All you needed was Pops and Marco and they were both in this house. You’d replace it eventually.

But not right now. 

The events replayed in your head. You hoped everyone was able to make it out okay. As much as you didn’t trust Doflamingo or your own father now; Crocodile seemed like the kind of man who would at least keep his end of a bargain. If not, you would unleash hell. You had no problem taking all of them down or die trying.

After all, you had nothing left to lose now.

You sighed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. What were you to do now? You didn’t have the hospital. You had gotten Corazon shot. You dragged innocent people into your own mess that you created by being an absolute idiot. 

Why did you think you could have it all? Leaving your father’s family and still keeping a good relationship with him? Being able to have the hospital but also aiding those who were injured and helping others escape from the hell that was that lifestyle with no consequence? 

You were Icarus and flew too close to the sun. Everything you had worked so hard for - gone in an instant.

You felt a headache come forth and you knew you’d cry if you had any tears left at this point. Exhaustion was creeping back into your very being. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep.

--

The following week, you hardly left your room or your bed. Hell, you hardly even ate. You just didn't have the energy to do anything besides sleep. When you were awake, you were plagued by your own thoughts of what happened and how you have nothing now. It just wasn't something you could deal with - you still had a hard time believing it. It was easier to sleep - especially when you didn’t even dream. It was just an endless black void and you welcomed it with open arms.

Marco basically had to drag you out of bed to make you shower, but you went right back into bed afterwards. He tried to talk to you, as did Pops, but you didn't provide much of a conversation, so they both ended up just leaving you alone for the most part. 

You heard the door open and the smell of food. It made you sick to your stomach, but one could also argue that you probably felt that way because you haven't been eating. “I’m not hungry, Marco,” you mumbled from your blanket cocoon.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you might say that,” a voice mumbled that was very much not Marco - or Pops for that matter.

You sat up quickly, squinting in the dark room to see who it was. You recognized his voice, but you just couldn't believe it for some reason. 

“Rosinante?”

You felt your face heat up and honestly you didn't know why. Quickly, you turned on the lamp on your bedside, hissing at the light. You’d hardly seen any in the last week anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I might have begged Marco to let me come visit…” The man made his way over to you and that feeling struck you again. You went to move to catch him, only to get tangled up in your blankets and crash to the floor the same time he did. 

“Ah, fuck.” You slowly pushed your way up off the ground, only to realize something.

You froze in place the moment you sat up and realized he was under you. Your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to move off of him. “Are you okay?”

You remembered his wound, sitting back slightly and lifting his shirt without thinking. “How are you healing?” 

“If you wanted me alone in your room with my shirt off you could've just asked,” he teased, nervously grinning at you with red cheeks. Your eyes widened and you covered your face. 

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry.” For fuck’s sake. A week was all it took for you to forget how to interact with others? 

He slowly sat up, chuckling as he did so. You slid into his lap as he moved, not removing your hands. You were too embarrassed to even look at the man.

He removed your hands from your face and you looked up at him, face red. “I'm healing fine, thank you.” His expression was soft as he took your face in his hands with a gentle smile. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, heart beginning to run wild.

“Are you okay?” 

Then it was as if the floodgates opened. So much for thinking that you ran out of tears because you had plenty now as they started falling down your face. Dammit. Doesn’t he know that he’s not supposed to ask a question like that? 

“I'm so sorry, Rosinante,” you said softly. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this.” You pulled your face out of his hands only for them to find your face again so you had to look at him. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Look at me.” His gentle demand made your heart lurch and your gaze shifted to him in surprise.

His expression was still soft, tone still gentle. “You didn’t drag me into anything, y/n.” 

“Y-Yes, I did.” You hiccuped slightly from your sobs. “You were out. You were free from all of this. I shouldn’t have even tried to entertain the idea of us. I should’ve known it’d be dangerous. I’m so-”

“Y/n.” You stopped, sniffling as you looked up at him. 

“None of that is your fault. You didn’t know that your own father would betray you.” Marco had filled him in on all the details of what had actually happened, unbeknownst to you. “You didn’t know that he was going to team up with my brother. You didn’t know they’d take over your hospital and use us as collateral.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Yes. I got out, but I also know that things can catch up with me at any moment, just as you do. One can never really leave this life and all that, right?” You just looked at him, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t know why he wasn’t mad at you. He was just…so kind and you didn’t understand. It just felt like it’d be easier if he just hated you, then you wouldn’t have to deal with all these other complex feelings.

“Not only all that, but I still made my decision even after finding out who you were, remember? Sure, it took me a minute. Mostly because I was embarrassed for having made an ass of myself that night. Law was trying to get me to talk to you the whole time. I’m pretty sure he was ready to have my head.” He made a sheepish expression as if he was apologizing to the young man in his head for that one.

“I don’t give a shit where you’re from - I’m from that same place. I’d be hypocritical if I judged you for it. We’re in this together now. I mean. Well, uhm. If you want,” he mumbled, rambling a bit towards the end, his face slowly turning red.

You had stopped crying at this point, honestly just taken aback by his words. Your heart was beating so fast as you sat there, in his lap, with your face in his large hands. You could read between his ramblings. 

He was right, though. You didn’t necessarily drag him into anything. He had been the one to take the initiative. Hell, he was even going to ask him out before your father showed up. You had planned on telling him everything if things did end up getting serious. If he had asked you out that day, you would’ve immediately told him everything. You hadn’t planned on lying to him at all - you believed in full transparency. Especially since he was from the same background as you. 

The way he found out was unplanned, but it was going to happen all the same. 

He had come back. You thought it was only because he found out that you were also the person who saved Law, but he had hardly mentioned that. Law had even confirmed that it wasn’t because of that. It was just shit timing from when they found out and when he was ready to confront all his feelings. Everything seemed to be happening out of order and now you were trying to put the pieces together.

You moved without much thought, kissing him hard. He made a small noise of surprise, but was quick to melt into it. Your arms slipped around his neck as his found their way around your waist. It was getting hot and heavy quickly, but you knew you couldn’t go too far since you were in Pops’ house and you would rather die than get caught by him or Marco.

You pulled away, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breaths. Corazon rested his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. You finally spoke after a moment. “Yes. We’re in this together.” You supposed you should answer the sentiment he had stumbled over earlier.

He chuckled softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Good because I’d be real sad if otherwise.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. He was such a goober, but it was cute.

You thought for a moment, frowning slightly. This was great and all, but…where did you go from here? You could start dating, yes. This was one thing solved. There were still tons of things you had to deal with. You had to get your hospital back somehow. You also needed some answers from Pops. It was time you found out exactly what happened between him and your father. You needed to make sure all your staff were safe. Obviously Corazon and the boys were safe, but you needed to know about everyone else as well.

You had let everything get to you. You had fallen off the deep end, but you were back now thanks to Corazon’s help. Only…you had no idea where to begin.

You suddenly felt him press a kiss to your forehead and you looked up at him. “I can see that big brain of yours is back in business,” he said with a large, goofy grin. You felt your heart start racing again. Fuck, he was beautiful. He stood up, picking you up with him. Luckily for him, Pops was also a very large man, so all the ceilings in this home were tall. He could stand with ease.

“However, it’s late. There isn’t much we can do now. Why don’t you sleep on it, let your thoughts organize, and we can figure things out in the morning, hm?” He slipped into bed with you and you felt your face warm up. 

“If your goal was to get into bed with me the whole time, you could’ve just asked,” you mused, using his words from earlier. This time he went red. “That’s not…uh…”

You laughed, settling into the bed and pulling him with you. “I know, I know. Now c’mere.” You could already feel the exhaustion from the crying and from your brain turning back on. He was right, you needed a good night's sleep before you started tackling this absolute shitshow that you needed to deal with. You’d waited this long, what was a few more hours?

The moment you felt Corazon pull you in and wrap himself around you - you were out like a light.

-----

first|next

[thoughtfulchaos773]

I made a post yesterday about Carmy's thoughtful menu (short summary: he stares at Sydney when he says thoughtful, and when she mentions the jacket, he looks at her again- later on giving a thoughtful gift)

His thoughts have been scrambled with Sydney for some time. She isn't a sudden thought as we see in 2x09- I think Bolgonese may be giving that hint that his mind is full of Sydney and she's always calmed him down.

The order of things that probably happened in 2x08 Bolognese when he had a panic attack:

-Carmy's had a panic attack the night before. It 'was probably the same flashes he had in 2x09 because he thought about Christmas Dinner, and Claire walked him through it, and they (or Claire) talked about it.

-Then he thought about what Sydney wanted - the chaos menu - he calmed down and started seeing the vision - when he thought of Sydney, he was inspired to draw again. He only draws when he's inspired by someone or something.

Sidebar: Can you imagine after Claire worked through that panic attack with Carmy? Then Claire watched him draw- drawings he's not sharing with her, and he was probably up all night. How much time/thought did he have to spend on those beautiful details and colors?

I keep adding the word "thought" because it's emphasized on Carmy's part in the episode, and I think it may be some importance to this word.

Script:

Carmy: Yes. Exactly. Tableside.

Sydney: That's nice.

Carmy: And then I did... I had this other thought that, um....

(Carmy shows more of his drawings)

Sydney: Why don't we need the spinach anymore?

Carmy: Well, I had a thought, if you could just, um... Thank you. I had a thought on, um... on plating. Um, I'll show you... uh, here.

Sydney: This looks kinda like a chaos menu.

Carmy: Well, no, it's like, it's a thoughtful chaos menu.

Richie when he presents the note Mikey left to Carmy.

Richie: Oh. Uh, thanks. Listen, Carmen thought this might be nice on the line, but he wanted me to run it by you in case you maybe thought it was too intense.

At the beginning of season 2, we're not in his mind like in Season 1. But in episode 2x09, we see Carmys up at night after sleeping with Claire, and the viewers wonder what he's thinking about - we can only assume because they leave it up to interpretation.

What Carmy was doing throughout season 2 was working out his thoughts about Sydney.

He wants to be positive and fun because he wants her to stay with him. He needs to learn what she means to him- since he's no longer passionate about the kitchen, he's half-heartedly working on opening The Bear because it's what Sydney wants. Does he want that, or does he only want Sydney?

[blubberymuses]

"GGGGGGGGGGGGWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!~"

Talk about tableside manners, especially from a royal, pampered, and pretty plump princess~

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of Iris CHPTR 8

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

Everything started to calm down when Marvin managed to find a spell or something and put Jameson to sleep. Chase could see it in his eyes, that mixture of terror and pride and love as he melted against the wooden door.

“He’s okay.” Marvin said. “He’s alive. Jackie’s gonna look over him for a few hours. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

And the house has been quiet ever since. Now it’s 2:30 am and Chase is staring at the ceiling as a movie plays in the background. He didn’t even get a good look at Jameson, he was a bundle of torn ratty blankets in Jackie’s arms close to his chest. Marvin was in and out of the room and all Chase could see was glimpses of a bruised sleeping man. Just fragile and small in the bed that used to be Chase’s.

Jackie and Jameson must be asleep by now. And it couldn’t hurt to just put some cookies on his table or something. He didn’t go on a baking and cooking frenzy for nothing. He pushes himself up and walks over to the cookies and begins to plate them. Three, no, five, ten, cookies should be enough for him. Maybe they could eat them together, share stories and talk, or well sign. If he was feeling up to it of course.

He turns the door praying the creaking doesn’t wake either one of them, he sets down the plate next to Jameson, his face still shadowed by the darkness. He turns back to Jackie, all curled up on the little couch against the wall.

“Hey,” Chase starts as he runs his hands through Jackie’s hair. Nice and smooth but also full of grease. Man probably hasn’t washed his hair in a week. Makes sense though, even on a good week he washes his hair maybe once or twice. Jackie leans into Chase’s hand giving Chase permission to talk. “Why don’t you go to your room to get some sleep in a bed-a real bed, not the couch.”

“I’m good here, thanks.” Jackie mumbles, readjusting his contorted body to a better position. His eyes are still closed and his mind is barely awake.

“Jackie, come on. You should sleep in your own bed.”

“‘m good. Go back to sleep. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Jackie…Come on man. At least go get a shower. You smell.”

“It’s like 3:00 am, Chase.”

“Which means Jameson won’t wake up. Go shower and go sleep in your bed for a few hours.”

Jackie turns over and looks up at Chase. He can’t see the hero’s eyes but he can feel the exhaustion. The pain and pride and frustration. The small squeeze of a hand in the darkness made his mind flashback to putting Chole back to bed after a nightmare. “You promise the monsters won’t hurt me?” She’d whisper in the dark as she squeezed his hand. “Yes. As long as I’m here nothing will hurt you.” He’d reply.

“I’ll watch over him, okay? Or I can go grab Marvin if you want me to?”

“No, it’s okay man. I trust you with James. But if he wakes up, come grab me?”

He trusts him. Jackie trusts him with the most important person in his life. Chase’s heart doubles its pace as the weight of the words settle into his soul.

“Ye-Yeah. Of course man. I’ll come grab you.”

“Thanks Chase. You’re too good to me.”

A small pat on Jackie’s back, a hand ruffled in hair and the soft click of the door and suddenly he was alone with the man of the hour.

He can hear the water coming down from the bathroom next door and Jackie’s music blasting from his phone speakers. He made a note in the back of his mind to just get him a waterproof speaker, to save his phone from water damage. Jackie’s phone was busted enough as is.

Chase pushes the thoughts away as he sits down on the edge of the bed reaching over to turn the tableside light on with a click.

He somehow looks so much better and at the same time worse than he did in the picture. A beautiful green glow of Marvin’s magic wrapped around all the bruises and cuts that Chase could see. His cheeks were still hollowed out but at least he looks peaceful. Someone managed to get all the old and new blood off of him, and his arms are bandaged up in colorful blue and green gauze. No more red strings dragging his limp body up, his head lulls to the side in a comfortable position. His hands spell out something that Chase barely sees in the light.

Shit. He isn’t supposed to be awake yet.

“Go back to sleep James. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Jameson’s hands twitch before spelling out something small. Delicate little letters that seem to hold all the love in the world. Well crap, should've paid more attention to those sign lessons.

“R-E-D” He signs “M-A-R-V-E-L”

R-E-D, Red, why is he asking for red? Does he see something red? Chase looks around the room for the red thing he wants. Jackie’s hoodie? Is that it? Chase grabs the plush red thing from off the hook and brings it back to Jameson.

“Hey did you want this? It’s Jackie’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you wearing it. He’s in the shower right now but he’ll be back soon.” Chase knelt down so he was at eye level with Jameson. He takes the hoodie from Chase’s hands holding it close before his eyes drift close once again.

Chase gives a small smile and watches the man’s chest take in shallow breaths. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked Jackie out of stealing that oxygen tank. He might’ve needed it. But they could’ve also just taken him to the hospital, with proper doctors and nurses and experts that could’ve assessed the true damage. Prescribe him the meds that he’d probably need. Chase drapes his hand against Jameson’s forehead like he would with Chole when she was sick. The warmth was apparent, an unnatural burn from his body fighting off unwanted diseases and infection.

He looks back over the hastly patched up body parts and messy wounds draped in crimson gauze. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackie and Marvin were capable of taking care of small wounds, cuts and bruises that they got when they went out- but this? There was no way that they could cure all of this. Marvin was good with healing magic but he wasn’t a doctor.

He couldn’t fix all of this by himself.

“Hey, did he wake up?” Jackie whispers as he walks through the door drying off his hair with Marvin’s good white towel.

“Yeah for a second. He signed Red and Marvel and I got him your hoodie and said you were in the shower then he went back to sleep. It seemed to help but I honestly don’t know what he was saying.”

“Oh, those are his nicknames for us. I loved red when I was a kid, so “little Red” was my nickname and Marvin was his “little Marvel.” We're not so little anymore, so Red and Marvel.”

“That’s really sweet Jacks.”

“Yeah, he’s too good for us.” Jackie says sitting on the edge of the bed next to Chase. He watches as Jackie wipes the tears from his face as he grabs his father figure’s hand. “He’s so frail, Chase. I-He’s not going to die. Right? I just got him back. He’s not going to die.”

It was moments like this that Chase is reminded that Jackie is twenty-five and barely functioning. A traumatized man who's known nothing but pain and suffering. He puts on a brave face so often and he’s tough, so fucking tough, but it only took a single arrow to kill Achiles and it only takes one death to break a man.

“Jackie, I think we should take him to a hospital.”

“No doctors.” He replies as if it was automation. And after everything he’s been through, Chase doesn’t blame him.

“Jackie, there’s only so much we can do. They’re professionals.”

“No they’ll get him hooked on painkillers or mess up his meds. Or think that we did this to him! Or hand him over to IRIS! I can’t-I can’t let that happen to him, Chase! Doctors ruined our lives! They can’t be trusted!”

“Jackie, hey, man. Calm down, come here.” Chase extended his hand letting Jackie fall into him. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe, maybe we can get a private nurse or something? We won’t let him die.”

Or a private doctor. A light flicks on in Chase's brain. Henrik. A friend he hasn’t talked to since Anti came back into his life. They were both haunted by the creature and Henrik had just recently got his life together. A new job and meds. His sanity mostly restored. He couldn’t rope Henrik into everything after his recovery.

He just disappeared for months. No calls or texts. No one was willing to help locate him or even willing to listen to Chase talk about him. And then he came back. Disheveled and confused. Going on and on about the man they had both seen in the shadows. It took months for Henrik to fully recover and Chase was one of the few who stayed by him.

And he tried to go back to work, be a surgeon again but he couldn’t. He got fired three weeks later. But Henrik managed to land a comfy job using one of his several degrees. Corner office with a view- last he heard- fully funded and a proper lab. And Chase couldn’t bare to impose on that.

But he still technically has his medical license. He could help. He had to help. If Chase begged and pleaded and explained the situation. Henrik could be… cold to say the least, but he wasn’t cruel. He had a heart behind those walls of steel and iron. Chase had seen it for himself first hand.

“What if I brought a friend?” Chase asks, “He’s a doctor but he doesn’t practice anymore and he’ll understand our situation.”

“Chase, I really don’t want a doctor touching James. And Marvin would be pissed if we found out we were even considering this.”

“Just let me give him a call?”

Jackie seems to mull it over, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before he looks Chase in the eye, “You really trust him?”

Chase meets his gaze without hesitation, “With my life.”

That’s how they met after all. A young 20 year old Chase was admitted to the hospital after screaming about something in the shadows trying to kill him. Henrik was fresh out of med school doing rounds trying to figure out where in the system was best suited for him. And most importantly the only one who believed Chase. He too was haunted by the thing that lurks in the shadows, pushing him to do dangerous things, threatening him if he didn’t follow through. They became close friends after they realized they share a tormentor.

And then there was… the attempt. Henrik was the only one who bothered to care for him after everything. He was the one who visited, bringing him fresh clothes and the good food. He was the one who would sit with him and promise that everything will one day be okay.

“Okay then. Call him.” Jackie relents.

“Thanks Jacks. Grab a cookie and get some sleep.” Chase says as he gets up from his spot.

“I’ll try.” He laughs quietly, more of a short breath as exhaustion was still clear under his eyes.

“Night Jackie.”

“Night Chase.”

Chase closes the door with a click and collapses back on the couch with a small huff. Checking the clock on his phone: 3:15. It would be about 11:30 in London, if that’s where Henrik still was. Henrik was never one to settle down in one place, especially after his own divorce. Bouncing from country to country, state to state, city to city. He always claimed it was for better opportunities and to see the world, but Chase knew the truth. It’s easier to just go if you have no attachments. And with Anti always right behind you, you have to go a lot.

Chase hovers over the call button glancing at the clock. No matter what timezone he’s in he’s probably awake. Henrik was the only person in the world who could run at full function with only 3 hours of sleep. So long as he got that cup of black coffee with 2 sugars. But still, the thought of waking him up or bothering him while he was doing something important ate at his nerves.

But this was for Jameson. Someone his boys deeply cared about. His pride be damned

Chase pressed the contact and listened to the drone of the ring.

His leg was bouncing by the third ring.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. At the tone please record your message when you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

The phone beeps and Chase sighs.

“Hey, Henrik, it’s Chase. I’m alive. Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. It’s a really long story, but I need some help. My friend, he’s dying and he doesn’t trust most doctors. Longer story. I don’t even know where in the world you are but if you can come to LA, I’ll pay for the flight and the cab fare and the hotel, just please get here as soon as you can. I miss you. I promise I’ll explain it all just, get here now. Please.”

Chase hangs up the phone and lays down on the couch, pulling the chaotic pile of twisted blankets on top of his body. He rests his phone against his stomach as he stares at the landlord-white popcorn ceiling, mind reeling over everything that had happened within the last few hours. It was a small miracle when his eyes finally slipped closed and his mind faded to black.

———

Thank you once again to @jellyfishdooter for pushing me to continue this project. I love you so much!!!

[Want more?]

[lessthanzeroc4lsgirly]

Today was so weird like wtf

My parents suprised me by placing a reservation at a fancy place in town ive been wanting to go

So I got out of school and had about 40 minutes to change from my casual/average effort school look to something more fitting for a fucking fine dining place.

And i ate quite a lot there. Appetizer, starter, main and even a dessert.

I dont know what was going on in my brain but I didnt seem worried about basically anything

When my mom tried talking us out of starters i tried several times to say Ill pay for starters, ill pay for the drinks, ill pay for my own things. (Obviously she said no shut up and enjoy)

Maybe its just been too long ago since ive been to something so fancy and such that I guess I got distracted by all the tableside stuff and all the fancy decor and details

Might take some lax just to feel like I at least did something 'disordered'

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part IV

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

It had taken Heeseung awhile to fall asleep, despite knowing that she was long passed out. If he tried hard enough, he'd be able to hear the first morning birds chirping from a distance.

Ki Yeom was wrapped in her blanket, passed out on the mattress on the floor. Her place was kept simple and somewhat tidy, with an abundance of instant food and a rather adequate range of cutlery and utensils. The furniture is minimal - they look like resale items from garage sales or thrift stores. There's a small desk in the corner where her laptop is, and right next to it is a single-columned shelf with some files and books. He wonders if they have her drawings, but he's too tired to get up and be nosy.

Besides, he's heard enough of her story to feel bad for her, to feel like he was an asshole for thinking the world was a boring place. Suddenly, he feels like a hypocrite.

He had the perfect home, much like the best friend she had described, and yet, he chose to pack up and leave, in search of 'life's purpose'.

Heeseung sighs, breath trembling. He leans his head back on the kitchen cabinets, and prays that his tail bone and neck wouldn't hurt too much in a couple of hours.

By the time Ki Yeom's eyes had finally managed to open (albeit how swollen and uncomfortable they were), she had already managed to make out the blob that's passed out along the length of her kitchen and cabinets.

He slept facing upwards, one arm under his neck and the other over his eyes, hair tousled and his shirt was slightly pulled up to expose his belly button.

She rolls over in her mattress, arm extending to the rattan box she had by it as a tableside top.

11.38am. 3 missed calls. 327 unread messages.

She pulls the notifications bar down.

2 missed calls from Jun Yeol.

1 missed call from Soo Min.

Jun Yeol: Hello?

Jun Yeol: Don't you have an appointment coming in at 12.30pm?

"Fuck."

Ki Yeom sits up, tired eyes struggling to remain open. She swings her legs over the edge and stands, stretching her neck and arms as she walks over to the bathroom quietly.

And for the first time in four years, there's a need to close the bathroom door.

The afternoon sun was ruthless when she stepped out, scorching her skin in all the spots she was exposed, but it felt different.

Ki Yeom wonders if the talk the night before had really made the difference. Why did it make such a huge one?

She pushes herself into the parlour, rushing past Soo Min and Jun Yeol (so they wouldn't be able to spot her swollen eyes that easily) and straight towards her client who was already seated at her booth.

Heeseung jolts awake when a car honks, then he realises the sun wasn't in its usual spot in the mornings when he normally wakes up. He sucks in a deep breath, then yawns, hands fondling his sides for his phone. Gone.

He quickly sits up, wondering for a moment if the girl might've possibly stolen it. But as he sits up, he spots his phone being charged at the plug on her desk.

He sighs, instantly feeling terrible about doubting her. Awkwardly squatting next to her desk, he unlocks his phone without pulling out the charger, looking through the messages that his friends had spammed in their groupchats and the Instagram notifications that he couldn't really care less about.

Maybe I should just delete it, He thinks to himself. Then he unplugs his phone, then grips the edge of the table to pull himself up.

That's when he spots the post-it note pasted to the surface.

Feel free to stay the day. I trust you won't steal anything. I have an appointment and then I have to meet the friend I was telling you about last night for coffee in the evening. Wish me luck.

Heeseung peels it off the desk and reads it again. He gently folds it, deciding he would keep it as some sort of contract for their friendship. As he drops it in his pocket, he realises that he was instantly finding joy in being an annoying friend.

It's a slow afternoon as he goes back to his apartment, freshening himself up before leaving to run errands. But just as he steps out of the lift-

"Hi, I'm looking for a Woo Ki Yeom?"

Heeseung looks up from his phone despite having already walked past him. He doesn't turn, but in his peripheral vision, he can make out an older man, probably in his late 40s, talking to the guard at the counter.

Exiting the building, he turns back and looks in through the glass, watching the man gesture to the security guard. In his wrinkled hand was a little note, which Heeseung assumes is the address, and as he swaps the note from one hand to another, he wipes his free palm on his Bermudas.

Heeseung looks away, heart stopping and breath held.

They have the same tired eyes.

"Alright," Ki Yeom takes a deep breath, sitting upright from the crouched over position she was in. She gently pats the wrap and pulls off her gloves, reaching over for a newly packaged ointment bottle and placing it into a plastic bag. "This is the moisturizer ointment. Wash your tattoo two to three times a day gently with water then dry it, then use the ointment. Don't go sunbathing or tanning until your tat's healed."

"How long before it's healed?"

The girl sits up in the chair and swings her leg over the edge, awkwardly lifting up her arm where the abstractly-drawn starfish was red and swollen.

"Uh..." Ki Yeom laughs a little (on the inside. She doesn't want to hurt the girl's feelings. The star fish has the diameter of a coin). "I'd say a month? Should be fine... Do you go to the beach or go swimming in an outdoor pool or running or...?"

"Oh, no. I just... you know. Wondering how long I have to wait..."

Ki Yeom squints at her before turning around in her roller chair, reaching out to pack her equipment and inks. "Wait? Before... showing it off?" She pauses, studying her client. "Someone doesn't want you to get a tat, huh?"

The girl purses her lips together in an awkward, embarrassed smile. "When it's healed, it's easier for me to say that I've already gotten it done and there's nothing to be done about it."

Ki Yeom smirks cheekily, tossing her used gloves into the bin by her station. "My boss once told me that tattoos belong to the person that's getting it. Your body, your choice. If that's of any comfort."

The client nods again, unsure how to respond. Ki Yeom ignores the horrid ending to the conversation and walks her up to the cashier, where along the way, she spots Ji Yeon loitering outside the parlour like a stalker.

Maybe I shouldn't have told her I was free today.

After her client leaves, Ki Yeom pretends not to see Ji Yeon, meagerly walking back to her station as if dragging out the time and procrastinating the coffee date. Though, she kind of needed it, after all that crying and lack of sleep last night. In fact, Ki Yeom is surprised she had managed to stay awake the entire time she was working.

"She's like an ex-boyfriend," Soo Min calls out from her station, eyes quickly glancing to her and then back to her own client.

"Y'think?" Ki Yeom widens her eyes, well aware that she wasn't in anybody's field of vision to see it, as she crouches to pack her bag.

"Will you be okay?"

Ki Yeom picks up her bag up and swings it over her shoulder as she stands. "I guess I'll find out later."

Soo Min looks up from her client for just a second, and nods.

There's a reluctance in Ki Yeom's chest as she turns around. Ji Yeon was still outside, now back facing the parlour, and turned to face the road. She was looking up at the buildings, eyes still full of wander.

I will always be second to Ji Yeon. As someone experiencing life; as a person. She will always be kinder, and sweeter, and gentle with her words. Polite to the elderly and patient with the children. The type of person that cats and dogs wouldn't hesitate to run up to on the streets, as if they already knew her.

The waitress at the coffee shop was clearly more than surprised to see the unfriendly tattoo artist coming in with another person. And as the cherry on top, said person was the polar opposite of Ki Yeom.

"Hello," Ji Yeon greets the waitress, who beams upon the acknowledgement.

Great, now I look even more like an asshole.

"Hi! Can I get you started on any drinks or appetisers?" The waitress is high-strung, as if excited to finally have someone to talk to. The dinner crowd hadn't come in yet, and Ki Yeom is slightly curious at why she seemed so enthusiastic.

"Give us a couple of moments to look through the menu. What do you recommend?"

"We're known for our coffees! But our pork belly rice bowl and fusion items are popular as well."

"Great, I'll keep that in mind."

And with that, the waitress smiles widely, greeting Ji Yeon again before she walks back to the counter.

"Can we get this over with?"

Ji Yeon looks up from her digital menu and at Ki Yeom, eyes tired and shoulders sunken.

"You look like you didn't sleep a wink last night," She points out as-a-matter-of-factly, looking back down at her phone screen.

"I slept late, and slept badly, just so you know. But we don't have to prolong this. What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you hungry? Shall we get their coffee specials and just a pork belly bowl for sharing?"

Ki Yeom stares at her, wanting to frown but unable to when she looks up from her phone again, eyes bright and spirits lifted.

Then this nagging, digging feeling in her stomach comes again after four long years. The feeling of watching someone be absolutely perfect, knowing you wouldn't be anywhere near and being unable to fathom why.

She was in perfect control of her feelings, her facial expressions, her body language, her tone and her words. Ki Yeom knows that the problem is within herself, but she knows she doesn't have the patience to fix it.

"Can you stop being like this?"

Ji Yeon presses the submit button on the digital order form as Ki Yeom hurtles the words at her. She looks up at her, then locks her phone and places it facing down on the table.

"Like what?" She gently shakes her head and politely places her hands on her thighs.

Ki Yeom tightens her jaw, leaning back in her seat and placing her wrists on the edge of the table, fingers curled in, like she was stretching, while facing Ji Yeon who was sat opposite her. She studies Ji Yeon - That blank, innocent look on her face that tells her Ji Yeon truly has no idea what she's talking about.

It steps on her toes all over again.

"Like a perfect... specimen of a human being. What's wrong with you? Are you so afraid to hurt someone? Are you scared that being angry is going to piss someone off? Are you afraid to make enemies?"

Now, there's a gentle frown slowly forming between Ji Yeon's brows. "I don't understand. What does the way I respond to things have anything to do with this conversation we're supposed to have?"

"Because you're just so perfect! Do you owe the world something? Why do you care so much about how people look at you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Ki Yeom pants slightly, realising that she was speaking abit louder than normal. Her hands were now gripping the edges of the table. She sighs and rubs her eyes.

"No, don't shut down on me now," Ji Yeon reaches out and pulls her hands off her face.

"Don't touch me!" Ki Yeom retracts her wrists sharply.

Ji Yeon is obviously hurt at the rejection, but she leans back and crosses her arms across her chest. "Go ahead. Say something else. After all, this is how much you've spoken in four years."

"Oh, now you're getting mad? All those years of being Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes finally catching up to you, huh? I was the grumpy one and you were always the pretty, smart, nice one and you loved it!"

Ki Yeom pauses, watching as the brutal truth and harsh emotions begin leaking from a cracked bottle that she had tried so hard to wrap up and throw away. It's slow - the beads collecting at the little cracks. So small, that you might mistake the bottle for condensed beads of water.

"And you know what? You loved it all the way until my family fell apart. Even then, being the nice person was your utmost priority! Paying for my meals when I said I could. Buying things for me just because I mentioned it once! And then when it all happened, you ran around asking where I was, announcing that you were just worried. All that effort trying to find me and making sure that I was okay. Well, guess what? With or without you, I was not okay. I needed a friend. A friend who would get angry with me and be broke together and lose all direction in life. Not a fucking guardian trying to replace my fucking parents. Not a role model that's excelling at everything she does. Not a person that never disappoints."

Something in the kitchen dings. It's a good thing nobody else was in the cafe right now, for a pin drop would sound like a metal thermoflask dropping on the floor.

Ki Yeom had completely expected Ji Yeon to pack her things and leave. Maybe throw a cup of water at her. Or at least tear up and cry out of hurt and grief.

But she is Ji Yeon, and to Ki Yeom, she will always be perfect in the way she feels things; sees things; perceives them. Right now, Ji Yeon is just but a person who is victim to the trials and tribulations of life, the victim to individual thought and perception.

"You're right," Ji Yeon responds quietly. The reply stuns Ki Yeom, surprise seeping again into anger. Ki Yeom cocks her head, a disbelieved smirk ripping apart her lips and preparing to retort again, but Ji Yeon interrupts her. "If you think I'm perfect, then I guess to some extent, I am. I don't wish to look imperfect. That's just how I am. I grew up believing that perfection is just a concept, subject to individual perspective."

"Shut the fuck up. You're telling me you had this ideology at what, the ages of six to ten?"

"From the ages six to ten, perfection was not a concept I understood."

Ki Yeom stops.

"From the ages six to ten, I was just learning. God forbid anybody who thought that a kid who just wanted to learn was imperfect. You are angry at my lack of response to the things that happen out of my control. I see it as a waste of time if I respond angrily. What good does it do?"

The anger seems to seep back in again. The irony is, Ki Yeom understood her. Word for word, from her perspective. But the more she spoke, the more perfect she seemed, as if she couldn't be more perfect. What kind of politically correct, woke response was that?

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking why I'm still acting like I'm perfect. If it's of any comfort, I don't think I am, but you seem to think that I am. And yet, the fact that me being perfect is imperfect to you is a point in itself. Perfection gets on your nerves and imperfection gets on others'. There's no winning."

Ki Yeom sucks in a deep breath, toes curling in her shoes as she buries her face in her hands. She can taste the sour ball in the back of her throat as her nose starts to sniffle with her breaths. There's a muffled second, only able to hear the music playing in the back, then there's an overwhelming grief of loss as the gravity of the truth slowly sets in.

"I'm not here to talk about whether I was perfect and how it bothered you. I wanted to know... how you've been. Clearly, the things I did as you went through that rough patch in your life was not the best sequence of actions from your point of view but it was from mine. I hope you know that even though what I did wasn't of help, but it was still what I thought was best."

There's a pause as the waitress comes by with the coffees. The ceramic clanks onto the table.

In theory, Ki Yeom knows she's right. Ji Yeon is always right. Everything she did, she did with her best interest at heart. She was broke, so Ji Yeon offered to pay. She was kicked out, so Ji Yeon wanted to look for her.

Maybe that's the part Ki Yeom couldn't swallow. Even when she was the victim, she was still the bad guy, not the fallen hero who had a redemption arc.

"I wish we weren't ever best friends," Ki Yeom's voice is hoarse and exhausted. "Because then we wouldn't need to go through this."

"The good friendships are tested to their limits. That's how a bond is formed."

"No. Our bond was gone a long time ago and we are both just here to reconcile with it, and bury it."

There's a special type of grief that comes when you're actively aware when an era or a period of fond memories come to an end - like a holiday.

Or a friendship.

Said grief feels slow, almost insignificant. Like you don't notice it because it's been gone for so long.

There isn't much to say about how it feels. Except that it creeps up on you, no matter how many times you are able to rationalise the feelings to yourself. You could tell yourself the story a hundred times in the mirror and still be unable to swallow that the friendship had turned sour, no matter the exact reason.

And that sucks.

Ki Yeom was too exhausted to feel the sadness and the grief of it all on the way home. She couldn't even cry.

So when she spots Heeseung sitting by the bench outside the apartment building and eating an ice cream, the setting, evening sun casting a mandarin shade on him. She wonders for a moment if he was here for her.

She pauses at the traffic junction, tilting her head as she waited for him to take notice of her waiting for the lights to change. Then he looks up and around, and spots her across the road. Ki Yeom wants to smile, but it doesn't come out.

Then her heart stops, when Heeseung seemed worried. She doesn't know why she had expected him to smile and stand and wave to her, but he doesn't.

The traffic light turns, the incessant beeping somehow making its way past her headphones and into her eardrums, that quite literally explode in them when she gets them off.

"Hey," Heeseung greets first, licking the corner of his lips. "Look, there's something that I think you should know before you go into the building."

Ki Yeom frowns at him, as if he were the one who just broke her heart into a million pieces. He sucks in a deep breath and purses his lips, puffing up the space between his gum and the inside of his mouth, then exhales through a small 'o'.

"I think your father's here."

And just like that. The day literally could not get any worse.

"What?"

Heeseung parts his lips in a bid to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Why don't we go elsewhere? Until late, and maybe he won't be here anymore."

"How long has he been here?"

"I woke up in your place around lunchtime. 12 plus, one? Went home, washed up and came out for errands around two and he was already here. Asking the guard if you lived here."

How many fucking times must she go through this tormenting process in a day?

"You said you had that coffee date today with your friend. I'm assuming it didn't go well. Let's not stay here."

"You just told me he's been here for five hours. Even if he goes away while we're away, he's gonna come back another day."

"I know that but you're not in the state to have another conversation like that."

"Don't talk to me like you know everything about me."

"Then be my guest and go in there. Have that conversation with your father about the last four years he was absent from your life. Tell him that you're doing well but you got an offer to move overseas and that you just fell out with your best friend."

If her thoughts were a mindless man running on a treadmill, he'd halt so abruptly, he'd fly off.

Heeseung raises a brow when she goes quiet.

The street behind them had significantly picked up in traffic all of a sudden. He assumes it's the evening traffic.

"What, did I just summarise your life? Ever since you moved out?"

Ki Yeom frowns and looks away, eyes welling with tears.

"You are so caught up... in- in thinking about the same few things, that you couldn't see anything outside of it. And now that they have finally come knocking on your doorstep, you hate it. But haven't you been giving it the most attention? Given how much you despise it? Four years! And this is all that you think you life amounts to? Topping sales, an offer overseas, a falling out with your best friend?"

She turns and shoves him back on the shoulder, the tears finally billowing over her lower lids. "You think it's so easy to let go? You think I don't wake up wishing that things were different? Maybe if I were a better person and I weren't such a bitch, I'd be a better friend and a better daughter."

Heeseung parts his lips in disbelief, hands ruffling through his hair as he combs through his locks with his fingers. "You don't get it. These are all but mistakes in life, personalities and perspectives that don't align. You've had four years to learn from them, accept them and forget about them before you move on. But you have been your own prisoner."

"Ki Yeom?"

Heeseung gently shuts his eyes when he can hear the fragile voice coming from behind him. His arms drop to his side as he opens his eyes again, watching through her eyes as her inner world crumble even more. He already made her cry, now someone else is here to finish the job.

"Who is this?" The footsteps are anxious as he comes from behind Heeseung, who turns around and meekly greets the elder. "Is he bothering you? Who is he?"

Ki Yeom is speechless, but she can't ignore how different he looks.

She counts the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. His hands are naturally trembling abit more as he points to Heeseung, and he seemed to have a little limp when he walks.

"Ki Yeom, is he bothering yo-"

"Don't."

There's a look of hurt that's somewhat expectant on his face when he knows her response is to him, and not to answer the question.

"Who gave you my address?"

Her father looks down at his feet, slightly ashamed.

"I begged your grandfather for it. I'm sorry. He told me he can't give it to me but I just... kept asking. When he gave it to me, he told me that I could only come look for you in secret, and not reach out. But- but how could I? I mean... it's been-"

"Don't."

Ki Yeom has both palms lifted in the air and facing him in a bid to tell him to shut up. Eyes closed, she blinks the tears that are hindering her vision.

"I'm..." Heeseung's voice croaks. "Going to go-"

"No," Ki Yeom glares at him. "You." She points at him. "Don't move an inch. And you." She turns back to her father. "You have three minutes to say what you have to say because I have nothing to say to you. And regardless of whatever it is you're about to say, I have nothing to say back. I just hope that making this trip and getting it off your chest is enough for you because that's all you're going to get."

Heeseung's brows are slightly furrowed as he side-eyes her father, trying to read his expression from his peripheral vision. The elder man is taken aback, in a 'hurt' type of way that he knows there's nothing he can do to redeem himself.

"I just wanted to know if you're doing well, and if you're safe. If your workplace has been kind to you and whether you need any additional financial help, because I brought some for you," He ransacks his waist pouch for a smaller one, holds it out. Ki Yeom doesn't move an inch, eyes fixated on his. "I wanted to apologise. For the way things happened. I know I can't turn back time and undo what happened but I want to apologise on behalf of your mother and I want to say that she only did what she thought was right-"

"No, she did what she thought was right for herself! If she had any idea what was right for our family, don't you think she would've taken grandpa's help?! But no, being faithful to your religion was enough, wasn't it? That was what would put food on our table, fill our wallets up with money and light up our rooms, right? Right?"

They had been standing there long enough for people to start noticing them, and for the sun to set enough for the street lamps to flicker on.

"And don't you dare think for a moment that this isn't your fault. I don't blame you for losing your job, but I blame you for not being a better father. Not being around to make sure mom didn't do what she did. I know you were out trying to make ends meet but in the midst of all that, you had completely forgotten that I existed. I as in your daughter who just needed a parent."

If Heeseung were watching a soap opera, he'd be on the edge of his seat, eyes widened and fingers holding some chips, but no. This was happening in real time right before his eyes, and he hasn't got a clue what to do (since he knows better than to say something).

He can see the tears drying up her eyes all over again, as if her swollen eyes from the night before had properly recovered. And her father, the indescribable look in his eyes as he tears up as well. Head hung low and fingers anxiously picking at the corners of the cash stack.

The inevitable uncomfortable silence between them sets in, amidst all the noise that was happening around them.

Ki Yeom knows that an apology will not suffice. Nothing ever will. The damage had been done and even if she did take the cash, it will not make a difference.

"Are you done?"

Her father looks up from the floor.

"If you are, please leave."

"Ki Yeom..."

"Now."

A motorbike races past.

"And I never want to see you again."

Heeseung glances at Ki Yeom, and back at her father. His shoulders are sunken. He knows he's defeated. But still, he lifts his hands and tries to offer her the money.

Ki Yeom reaches up to her face to wipe the tears, clearing her throat as she steps back.

"You'll need it when you retire."

Then, she gently grabs Heeseung by the wrist and pulls him along, past her father and away from the apartment building. Heeseung lets her drag him down the pavement, earning strange glances from corporate passerbys who were making their way home from work and whatnot.

But until he was sure they were definitely out of sight of her father, Heeseung holds his weight down, hand reaching out to her forearm.

"Ki Yeom," He says, loud enough for her to hear. But she doesn't respond, ignoring his touch and his call, and continues dragging him with more force.

"Ki Yeom, please."

He finally puts in enough strength to halt her, and so she jerks to an abrupt stop when it's his turn to grab her arm. Her eyes are swelled up again, mucus running down her philtrum and between her lips when she turns around to face him. He can tell she's trying her best not to take a deep breath, for it would trigger one of those hard-to-breathe sniffles and she would collapse into a sobbing mess.

Heeseung doesn't know why, or much rather, how, he has grown to see her. Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, she's the first person that he's known abit more than surface level. Maybe it was because she knew nothing about him, other than the things he has chosen to share, and that made it easier to trust her.

Who said a stranger you meet at a laundromat would stay a stranger?

He awkwardly, but slowly, closes the gap between them, gently releasing her arm. He's careful, trying to read her body language as she stays almost completely still. Then, he can feel the bones in her shoulders under his arms, and she remains so still for a few seconds, he was still unsure.

But like hugging a vase that was haphazardly pieced together with glue without enough time, care and concern, Ki Yeom shatters. He closes his eyes, trying not to cry himself, as her entire frame softens, shoulders shivering with each sob and sniffle.

She doesn't hug him back, but she presses her face into his shoulder so hard that he can feel her tears soaking through his shirt and onto his skin.

"I- I wish it didn't happen- like this."

"I know."

"I- I know he meant- meant well. But- I- just-"

"I know."

The conversation was short-lived.

Sometimes, there aren't enough words to explain a feeling; a feeling of resolution, even if it feels like it's the worst decision you could make.

Perhaps, trying to find the words defeats its purpose.

After Ki Yeom had finished crying, mostly because she regained enough social awareness to realise how embarrassing it was to be hugging in the middle of the street, the duo had found themselves sitting by the pavement, feet on the street as bicycles and cars drove by.

The ice cream was melting quickly, so Ki Yeom fought the urge to close her eyes and finish it. Heeseung tosses the last of the cone into his mouth, swiping his hands against each other to get rid of the remaining crumbs.

He sighs, leaning back with his palms on the concrete by his hips, eyes looking up at the cloudy sky that was partially blocking the moon. There was that dewy scent of rain wafting through the sky, so he looks around somemore, hoping to catch a glimpse of lightning somewhere.

Ki Yeom quite literally shoves the rest of the lemon coating into her mouth, knowing that if she ate any slower, it would start running down the stick and over her hands. She wraps the stick in the wrapper the ice cream came in, and folds it nicely.

She looks ahead, then around, trying to find what Heeseung was looking at previously. Pulling in her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around her thighs, fingers picking at the dry skin on her elbows.

"You know, what you said to me just now before he showed up... It made sense."

Heeseung takes awhile to turn his head back to her, processing her words before he tilts his head in her direction. His eyes remain looking forward, at the street and the lamp post on the other side.

"I've had so many conversations with myself. Running around in circles and trying to persuade myself that it was time to move on and that I didn't care. But I knew deep down that I needed closure, even if it meant a messy one that I didn't want. I knew I was angry with Ji Yeon and I knew it wasn't her fault. I knew my father did what he thought was best at the time it happened. But I just couldn't forgive them for the things they did."

Heeseung finally turns to her. He pulls his legs into a cross and picks at the threads in his ripped jeans.

"Just because you can understand why they did those things doesn't mean you have to forgive them. I think if that were the case, mankind wouldn't be so complex. We'd all just be aiming to be understanding, and by that condition, we'd be a peaceful society. But we're not, and... I mean, things happen."

Ki Yeom starts to smell the rain as her clogged nose clears up completely.

"When I went through my own difficult times, I'd tell myself that I'm just an anime character that had to go through these stupid arcs to get the character development. Else, I'd just be the lame side character that everybody forgets about."

A little smile cracks through her lips as she looks down into her lap, staring blankly at the cotton stitching on her pants.

"It's not common that a character has to go through two arcs in so little time, but it happens. Usually they're the badass ones that everybody roots for, even if they're morally questionable."

Then the drizzle starts, gentle and kind, like little snowflakes falling from the sky. Like they were trying to wash away her sadness and grief.

"I think I'll stay here for awhile."

Heeseung turns to look at her, face turned up to look at the sky. The droplets land on her skin, and for a moment, it seemed like the sky was doing the rest of the crying for her.

"Are you planning on staying until you're soaked?"

She hums in response. "Maybe."

He turns to look at the sky too, closing his eyes as he let the water run down his face and neck.

"By the way, do you do your laundry on Wednesdays? Because I just remembered it's a Wednesday."

[julimar-cool]

Hoooly shit. Holy shit. I just woke up from a dream where I was kidnapped by that fucking Costco guy on tiktok, and a kid who was maybe like 15 and was supposed to be his son, but was definitely NOT his son. I saw that meatcanyon video, thought it was boring, and then fell asleep and fucking dreamed about it 💀. Basically, we (my family) parked outside of this restaurant, my parents went in, but it was SO horrible in there dude they tricked me into going when they booked this weird tableside entertainment thing that this restaurant does that supposedly involves two kinds of cannon. They said t-shirt cannon and then some other stupid word like flimbo cannon or something. It wasn't flimbo but it was similarly stupid. So I was like "noooo I'm waiting in the car actually 👍 that was a fucked up thing to do please treat me like a human being" and while I was waiting in the car, the Costco Devil started talking to me, and I was engaging like a dumbass. He managed to open the car, get into the driver's seat, let his fake son in, lock the door, and start the fucking thing. And they were going to trade me to a real estate agent in exchange for a free house. My arms are weak in my dreams so I couldn't break the glass window (although maybe car window glass is stronger than regular glass irl, but in my dreams my punches always land weird and soft, probably because I can't physically feel my hand connect) so I had to try everything. The handle was locked, but for whatever reason car doors unlock at red lights in this universe (I have evidence for that) so I was able to run out and scream for help. But before I tried, as we were approaching the red light the Costco Kidnapper said something so fucking weird.

"ohhh you're not getting out that easily. A Trump supporter runs at least ONE red light every day"

The implications of this. Dear god.

Costco guy, and presumably the rest of his family, were Trump supporters.

Trump supporters have evil anti rules they have to follow. Like they're the fucking grouches from sesame street.

He knew that the car door would unlock at the red light.

Luckily for me a car got in front of us so I could hop out and do what I've already said I did. He chased after me and the dream ended when a car that was stopped at the light opened their door to help. The door didn't even open all the way, it just ended with the click of a door handle and that was it.

[ursulaismymiddlename]

no pressure tags, feel free to ignore: @duckland @laurelwen @nightmares-and-fascinations @whats-rambled-rambled

Fic ideas for Jake (Sweetbitter) x You that i've been kicking around, but probably won't ever write:

You were a barista at a coffee shop that Jake frequented, at the start of the fic he hasn't seen you in awhile (he wasn't actually keeping track, but he remembers faces) and then one day you're at the restaurant

---

“Coffee shop girl?”

“.... Large black Americano, 2 pumps vanilla?”

“You remember.” (that dumb smirk of his)

“Yeah, you have your regulars, I have mine.”

“Sure, but what are you doing here? Doesn’t exactly seem your type of place.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you’re some bright-eyed early bird barista.  Shouldn’t you be gettin to bed soon?”

“So you’re mistaking my customer service persona for actually knowing me? Hmm… interesting.”

— “Oh, Jake, I see you’ve met the new line cook.  She’s going to start fielding the expanded dessert menu until we can get a pastry chef hired.”

---

In an effort to be as big of an asshole as you perceive him to be, you keep referring to him as Statefarm (Like Jake, from Statefarm)... this may or may not catch on to others at the restaurant. And you give him shit about being from Cape Cod all the time (personally, I'm from St Louis, which seems like naive midwest shit, but statistically is a tougher area than ThE cApE so I enjoying the idea of making fun of him for it)

---

it's clearly antagonistic to start (a little Beatrice and Benedick going on) though y'all slowly start to become kinda friends and then probably more than that

---

"Yo, Statefarm, I need some Grandma."

"Drinkin on the job, coffee girl?"

"I got a tableside Flambé, so make with the booze, barboy."

---

Making homey food for family meals since you're the FNG and put in charge of the bitch work, especially when you're pulling double duty making prepping desserts for dinner service...

And making a particularly good looking/tasting dish, enough to even momentarily impress Jake and giving him a shit eating grin and a snooty "That's why I'm here, asshole."

---

At one point Jake catching you in the walk-in, visibly upset

“What happened?”

“Nothin.  Go back to the bar.”

*blocks exit from walk-in* “What. Happened?”

 “I said nothin!  … *insert some name* was just being stupid and it got to me alright?”

“What did he say to you?”

*something about fucking a manager but not being pretty enough to be FoH and being given a spot in the kitchen*

Jake’s jaw clenches and he turns on a heel without another word, storming out of the walk-in in search of the offending person

---

I had a separate silly thought of you having to use the kitchen-supplied knives because you haven't been able to afford your own knife set yet and maybe catching a little (mostly jovial) flack for it, and maybe he gets one decent one for you or some shit haha

"Look, I saw it on sale while I was ordering some other stuff, so I thought I'd pick it up for ya. Maybe now you can stop bothering everyone else for theirs."

"Jake, I... thank you. How can I repay you?"

"Well, for starters, you can try this new cocktail I've been working on..." *pops open the bottle that came in the package*

---

“Wow, did you take these photos?  They’re gorgeous!  And is that… the hostess? Oh wow, she’s beautiful, all of these are so beautiful.  But there’s something about them that feels so..  I mean I’m no art critic but… Nevermind, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, go on.  Tell me.”

“Well, just… everything looks… out of touch. Disconnected.  There’s a beautiful woman in your bed and you’re miles away.  Guess life is easier through a camera lens… Sorry, I talk too much. Project too much too probably.”

“You’re right… You do talk too much.”

*rolling your eyes* “Shut up and make me a drink, Statefarm.”

---

Getting tipsy with Jake, he reminds you about your vlog for the folks back home and you decide to make one at his place, he’s just tipsy enough he’ll make an appearance, there’s some banter, later after posting someone you know comments “so when y’all gonna kiss?” and Jake decides to tease you about it whenever y’all get into your banter.

---

“I deserve to be pursued, to be worshiped.  I don’t think I’ll ever have that, but I still deserve it!”

“Why wouldn’t you get that?”

“Have you LOOKED at me, Jake?  I’m a pudgy wannabe pastry chef. Lol”

“I’d fuck you.”

“You’d fuck anything that consents.”

“That’s probably the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.”

---

Simone fucked off to France with Etienne, Jake is trying to recover, gets a letter saying she's signing over her half of the house to Jake so he owns in full, her final goodbye, totally cutting him off now, which leads to some appropriate emotional drama

---

"Now the house is sold, me and *some cook name* are looking to start our own place. Got a space and everything.  You should come with us."

"I'm not a chef, Jake."

"No, but you're a good cook. You could make your diner food. We could do brunch on the weekends. I'll sling mimosas and bloody Maries to the waiting crowd. C'mon it'll be fun.  I think you'd really enjoy it."

---

“When are you gonna let me kiss you?”

“Maybe one day, if you mean it.”

“And if I mean it now?”

“Then kiss me, Statefarm… See? You don’t mean shi–”

*grabs face, interrupting you with a kiss*

“Don’t fuck with me, Jake.  You know I’m not about this fuckboy bullshit.”

“I’m not fuckin with you, okay?  I’m not. I want you. And I think you want me too.”

This is all just shit I have in my doc, maybe another couple little ideas floatin around, but here's the long and short of the idea haha If you've read this far, thanks! ^_^

[offthefieldsmau]

⚽ 1.90

“Stede?”

“Yes, darling?” Stede pulled the phone back to his ear, blushing and replaying the quotes in his head as he tried to focus back on his conversation with Sam.

“Are you watching TV on the phone with me again?” Sam chided harmlessly into the phone. It was a bad habit, but Stede was sitting on his couch, tableside lamp on as he wrote more thorough notes onto sticky notes and into the pages of his well-loved book.

Stede smiled, “Something like that,” he played with the ends of his shirt.

“I can come over Saturday night for movie night, right?” The door to Sam’s fridge opened, “We’re doing Bridget Jones?”

Stede stopped playing with his shirt’s hem, “I was wondering…maybe we could watch something else?”

Condiments rattled as the fridge door shut on the other end of the line, “Like what?” 

Stede glanced at the opened book to his left, “Maybe we could try Lord of the Rings again?”

Sam was quiet. There was budding hope — in a way similar to how it felt to watch the sunrise over the horizon on a new day. Stede held his breath, knowing the longer Sam waited to respond, the more his resolve fell. This was it— Stede was finally going to get him to try it again! Unless—

Sam sighed. 

“You know I want to enjoy it—”

That’s not a no, “You will! I promise,” Stede sat up, “just give it one more chance, and I’ll stop,” he felt his body meld back into the couch cushions as he tacked on a soft, “please? It’s— it’s silly, I know, but I really think you’d enjoy it if you gave it another chance.”

It felt as though Stede lived a thousand lives before Sam responded. In his heart of hearts, he knew there was no way he could promise Sam would like it. Inside that same heart, there was a thin thread of hope that wanted him to find a love for the thing Stede adored so badly.

“Okay.”

Stede had to take a deep breath and calm the excited thrum of his heart, “It’ll be great!”

“And you don’t have the kids this weekend?” The hope in Sam’s voice was not lost on Stede.

He almost wished it was, though, as he responded, “I mean, no, but you should know that could change at a moment’s notice,” he heard a sigh from Sam, but kept talking, “Alma and Mary have been…’at odds’ doesn’t really do their spat justice, but I guess that’s just how it is with teenage girls and their mothers.”

“You don’t really get a break, do you?” Sam asked, and Stede smiled at the genuine sound to his voice.

“No,” Stede thumbed the pages of his book, “not really.”

“Then let’s make the most of it, okay? I can’t for sure say I’ll love it this time around, but I’ll watch it if it’ll cheer you up,” Stede’s heart had that tiny thread pull and tug at Sam’s words, “you deserve to at least pretend you have a break.”

“Thank you,” Stede brought the book back into his lap, “I look forward to it.”

[eatossolutions]

Drive Success with the Best Quick Service Point of Sale System: Smart Restaurant Computer Integration Tips

Running a quick-service restaurant is very much like juggling several moving parts in synergy for seamless customer experiences. In today's digital times, the core of the restaurant operation is based on the restaurant computer system. It's a nerve that coordinates everything from orders to inventory and customer relationships. Throw in the quick service Point of Sale system, and you're not just keeping the balls in the air-you're putting on a show.

This article will serve up a menu of integration tips to help restaurant owners and managers merge the strength of their computer systems for restaurants with the quick service Point of Sale system. Prepare for fun and informative insight that can set your restaurant up for the kind of success sure to have competitors asking for your recipe!

The Appetizer: Understand Your Needs

What's Cooking in Your QSR?

Before you begin connecting wires and syncing databases, take a step back to evaluate the needs of your restaurant. What are the most important functions of your QSR? Is it real-time ordering, tracking of inventory, customer relationship management, or is it tableside service? Identifying these will make sure the Point of Sale system and computer will be a satisfying match.

The Main Course: Picking the Right Ingredients

How to Choose the Best Quick Service Point of Sale System

Not all point-of-sale systems are created equally. The best quick service Point of Sale system will offer you speed, efficiency, and integrations that make it the perfect partner for your computer. During shopping, you'll want to keep an eye out for intuitive user interfaces, powerful reporting tools, and the ability to easily adjust to menu changes.

Picking a Superb Restaurant Computer

Your computer is the linchpin. Choose durable hardware, that can handle a high volume of transactions, and has redundancy so that should one system go down, there's always a backup ready to pick up the slack without a hitch in service.

Mixing the Ingredients: Integration Tips to Ensure Success

Marrying Your Point of Sale with Your Restaurant Computer

This is the holy union-make sure your Point of Sale and computer will talk to one another. Choose software and hardware that has demonstrated value in integration. Seek cloud-based computer systems that store data off-site and grant real-time insights on all devices.

Nailing the Network

The secret sauce is in a high-speed, reliable network. Ensure the infrastructure handles the flow of data across devices and lock it down for customer data protection.

Training Your Staff

Even the best systems will stew to a stop without the right training for your staff. Make sure your team knows inside and out, not just the point of sale, but the restaurant's computer, too. A well-trained team can create that symphony of service that gets every order perfect and gets customers to return for more.

Savoring the Benefits: Business on the Rise

Analyze and Optimize

It's an integrated system where one can dig deep into the data to know the sales patterns, keep track of inventory, and even monitor the performance of employees. Take these insights you get and use them to refine your operations, reduce waste, and, ultimately, improve profitability.

Faster, More Accurate, More Personal

Quick service thrives on speed and accuracy. A superior Point of Sale and restaurant computer combination means fewer errors and less waiting. It gets easier to personalize it since data is at your fingertips for effective marketing campaigns and loyalty programs that help turn irregular customers into regular customers.

Track Your Inventory in Real Time

Intelligent Point of Sale systems can automatically reorder stock when it reaches a pre-defined level, ensuring your kitchen never runs out of the ingredients it needs to keep churning out your bestselling items.

For Dessert: Indulge in Tech That Grows with Your Business

Choosing Scalable Solutions

As your restaurant grows, so should your Point of Sale and computer. Be sure to invest in systems that would be able to support additional locations and provide updates that help you face the latest trends and comply with evolving regulations seamlessly.

Conclusion: Toast to Tech-Enhanced Efficiency and Profitability

This is not just nice to have an appropriate technology palette; it's essential to whip up a profitable business in today's rapid world of QSRs. Use the quick service Point of Sale system in combination with an optimally integrated restaurant computer, and you will be setting the stage not just to meet expectations but to exceed your customer's expectations.

Want to mix in that secret ingredient of technology into your restaurant operations? Don't be left behind in the digital dining race. We at eatOS can show you exactly how to outfit your QSR with the ultimate duo that makes every rush hour at your restaurant a happy hour.

Stride with confidence into the future, serving up success on a silver platter with a little help from the best in restaurant technology.