#I'll read a bit instead of opening the computer first thing in the morning

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #male ocs #original character

[wtchwtch]

TT003_Transcript

TT003: The Basement Door

This is a fanmade transcript, please let me know if you see any errors.

TT003

(Intro music)

(Tape recorder sounds)

D: So it's recording now?

Cole: Yeah.

D: Eh- okay. W-why are we doing this on cassette?

Cole: We already talked about this. It's so listeners can get the most authentic experience possible so they know exactly what the exchange is like.

D: Yeah. But can we just record it, like on good audio on the computer?

Cole: We could, but...

D: Because this looks like a lot of hassle just to get the right feel and, and tape's still running. Are people gonna hear this or are you gonna edit it out? Cuz that's just another thing to add to the list.

Cole: Seriously, don't worry about it. It looks more complicated than it is and no, no one's going to hear this part. I'll edit this out before we release it. All you have to worry about is pushing the record button and reading the story.

D: And why aren't we just taking the prerecorded ones and putting those up?

Cole: Because I want the listeners to get to know us a little bit first.

D: I really don't think anyone's gonna care.

Cole: Maybe not, maybe they will. Besides, I have stacks and stacks of scanned copies of handwritten submissions, and if we only showcase the ones people have submitted pre-recorded, we'd run out too fast.

D: Okay. And can you do it then?

Cole: No.

D: Why not?

Cole: Uh, cuz I have an important appointment.

D: What sort of appointment?

(Tape recorder sounds)

D: Entry? Uh, 003. Submitted on lined paper and written in black ballpoint pen original exchange dated September 3rd, 2002, written by Samuel Kerig.

It's tough growing up. When I was young, my parents were everything to me. When you're small, your parents can solve anything. They aren't afraid of the dark. They know what bumps in the night and they love you despite how much you ask them for help.

At some point that changes, I think it started for me with a hesitation. At some point, I hesitated, and instead of asking my parents to scare away the monsters in the night, I turned on the light myself. And it turned out I was capable of the same magic that dissolved the monsters in the light. I didn't need my parents as much anymore.

I can't remember how old I was when it happened. It just happened. Instead of asking for help, I just stubbornly figured it out myself. Problem is the more you figure out, the more you learn that parents don't always know how to solve the problem. When I learned that little fact about the world, it was like all at once, all the protection they provided was gone, and there I was afraid and alone and figuring out how to protect myself. That made me lose faith in them. I still loved them of course, I could never, not love them. Just made me question them more. I didn't just accept what they said. I, I questioned every answer.

Even if I didn't argue with them out loud, I would in my head, Why can't I just clean my dishes in the morning? I'd ask. Rats, they'd say. I've never seen a rat in my damn life, I'd reply angrily, but not out loud. I knew my constant questions and arguing, annoyed them, and every so often I'd see a little glint of a tear in my mom's eye, or a look of rejection turning the corner of my dad's mouth into a frown.

It's like they knew that I didn't trust them blindly like I had when I was younger. Getting old and growing up was tough for me in a lot of ways, but it was tough for them too. They were usually understanding though, and only ever once got angry with me. All my life, there was only one rule that I absolutely could not and would not ever break.

"Son, you are never to open the basement door. You hear me, boy?" I can still feel his fingers gripping my arm like they were made of snakes wrapping all the way around and cutting off the blood until my fingers were numb. "You are never to open the basement door. If you do, bad things will happen. You don't need to know more, so don't ever ask. Don't even so much as look at that damn door. Your mom and I can go through the basement door, but you can never, ever go yourself. You'll die if you do. And you mean the world to me, but if you ever go through that door, I can't help you son."

I thought he was angry at the time, but looking back, I think he was afraid. Whatever was locked behind the basement door had him scared stiff. For years, I would imagine all sorts of monsters behind that door. They'd be big and ugly with drool falling from their lips, and eyes that cried blood, and they'd roar so loud, but the magic of the door would keep me safe. And mom and dad would keep me safe. I imagined it so many times, it all became real to me until one day it just wasn't.

I don't know when it was exactly, but I began questioning what they told me about the door, like so many other things. I convinced myself I needed to find out the truth for myself like I had with so many other things. I tried to let it go. I truly did, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried to stop staring at the door, every time I faced it, I heard a little voice in my head saying, "Open the door."

"What if it's locked?" I asked myself. "Then kick it. Kick it over and over until that damn door breaks and crawl through." I waited till bedtime. I hugged my dad and my mom and laid down in bed. I put my head onto my pillow and through the slits of my squinted eyes, I watched as my parents opened the basement door and walked on through like they did every single night after I went to sleep.

Still though, I waited. Closing my eyes and trying to open my ears, trying to listen to their fading footsteps, counting the seconds I thought it would take them to be far enough away until I made my break for the door. Finally I got up. Stepping quietly I ran across the room and climbed the stairs to the basement door.

I turned the handle, but the door was locked. "Kick it." Said that nagging voice in my head, "Kick it down quickly. Now quickly." So I did. I kicked that door over and over. It was so loud. I knew whatever monster was on the other side of that door would be awake and waiting. And I could feel the springs in my legs ready to run.

Just far enough in before heading back, just to find out what was on the other side of that door. Finally my foot broke through the door and I pushed myself through the hole. The broken wood scratched me as I crawled through, and then just as I got on the other side... Nothing. It was cold. Above me was a large white orb that shone against black, and all around it were smaller, brighter, twinkling lights.

And there were no monsters. I don't remember what I was thinking, but I just started walking. And that's when I started walking towards the Flat Stone River in the distance, where you found me, officer.

(Tape recorder sounds)

D: I don't know why, but I didn't stop to think during that submission whether or not the basement door led down or up. I guess that's because Samuel, the writer, only referred to the door as the basement door, which usually means you're heading into the basement and not out. Pretty clever little twist.

Something about the way it ended though, that felt more like a statement you'd give the police, like if you didn't know just how much or how little detail to add.

I don't know why, but I, I feel like Samuel was trying to justify the parent's actions or... no, not, not justify, but they wrote it sympathetically to the parents, like growing up and losing trust was a betrayal to them. I don't know. I wonder what inspired this.

Oh, and Cole, I'm not sure if you wanted us to give our thoughts on the story at the end or not, but you can just edit it out if you don't want it.

Okay, well, I guess that's it then.

(Tape recorder sounds)

Mark: Tiny Terrors is an anthology horror podcast produced by Pulp Audio and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial sharealike 4.0 international license.

D: This episode was directed by Cole Weavers with sound production by Mike LeBeau.

Cole: This episode featured B. Narr and Cole Weavers.

Mark: To find additional information or to join our Patreon for additional content and ad free episodes, visit our website, www.tinyterrorspod.com.

D: Follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook at Tiny Terrors Pod.

Mark: Or join the Pulp Audio discord by clicking the link in the description below.

D: Rate and review us on Spotify and Apple.

Mark: And finally, thanks for listening.

#tiny terrors #tiny terrors podcast #tt transcript

[talvenhenki]

.

#i hate how painful everything is right now #i totally understand why the riots are necessary #but all the tweets and news on it are taking a toll on me #gotta distance myself a bit tomorrow #I'll read a bit instead of opening the computer first thing in the morning #i'm still gonna be angry in solidarity but i need to clear my head first #call it a mental health day #Personal whispering #negative

[gl0rious-purpose]

Exciting and Fast Things (Loki x TVA!Reader)

Summary: Life at the TVA was boring. Of course, Loki had to be the one to spice up life there, specifically yours.

Word Count: 3214 Words

Author's Note: There is implied sexual content and light swearing, but there's not really a lot of details.

The TVA. The infamous Time Variance Authority. It was the only thing you had known since you were born. Or at least you were taught that. A man by the name of Mobius M. Mobius, who was obsessed with jet skis, had raised you as his daughter. He was kind, gentle, and very much dad material. You never really went to school, the knowledge just magically showed up as you got older. While you got older, your dad had discovered a variant. The variant had been killing minute men all across the timeline, causing a huge disruption in workflow.

The disruption mostly affected you. You worked as a file keeper and you had to constantly keep updating files as the minute men and women were killed and new ones were trained and brought in, minds clearly wiped. Well, in a sense. As far as you know, you were the only one who had been their your whole life, besides Mobius and Ravonna. 

While you were working one day, an alarm started going off. It was on that didn't go off as often, but it piqued your interest. The light would flash whatever color an identified variant radiated. This one radiated green. Those who radiated green tended to be perfectionists, analytical, conceptual, cool, calm, inventive and logical. They could even be mischievous. The green ones were always rare, or at least that's what you thought. You've never met one. Well, that was until Mobius had identified the variant killing all personnel. 

It was a Loki variant. Out of curiosity, you looked up the Loki variants on your computer. Most of the variants you saw were apparently "pruned." The one they had identified apparently was unlisted because you couldn't find on that was female, but seeing that all of them were fluid with sex and gender, you thought they had just shifted to a different form. As you scrolled through the files, one caught your eye. Loki Laufeyson, Timeline: 2012. You pulled the file up and scanned it. 2012? There's no way they're here now. As you read further, you found the status area. In bright red lettering read 'In Process Of Capture.' 

Your thin brows furrowed lightly before returning back to their relaxed position. We capture them? You inquired mentally, not wanting a response. You shook it all off before closing down all the files and clearing the history. That was the number one rule when it came to computers in the TVA. You log in, get the information you require, and then you would clear out without a trace. You truly hated it, but it wasn't your place to complain about an extremely reasonable rule. Closing the area completely and locking it, you stared into the now dark area. I wonder if I'll ever meet on of these green Loki variants. You mused mentally, sighing as your keys bounced against your thigh as you made your way to your shared apartment with Mobius.

  Several Months Later...

Months had passed since the Loki variant was identified. You've never seen your dad more excited than that moment. Well, besides when he met you and he got new jet ski magazines. You only got them because they made him happy, but you were more into motorcycles. Running the risk of getting thrown off an open bike at high speed just appealed to you. Maybe you liked the idea of it. Or maybe it was the thrill. One of these days, you were determined to ride one at least. 

Today, however, was not one of those days.

A week ago, the minute personnel was able to capture the 2012 Loki variant. While The Avengers going back in time to break the timeline was fate, Loki escaping with the tesseract was not. You stood by the docking bay, waiting eagerly to see the green variant. Your dad had been so excited about this, he wanted you to be there. He wanted you to see that all the hard work paid off. Of course, you had to stay in a corner, far out of harm's way. As the portal open up, the minute personnel pushed the variant through. Your breathing faltered as you took him in. He was menacing, but in a good way. He was extremely tall. If he were to stand by you, he would've loomed over you like a giant. The idea made you shiver, not with anxiety, but with.. anticipation. You wanted that to happen. 

A loud clink caused you to focus back in on what was happening. The personnel was unlocking his chains, leaving his mouth guard for last. As they dropped the chains, they looked at the guard before deciding to leave it on until they got to booking. You stared intensely at the variant. The almost viridian green suit flattered his form quite well. Instinctively, your mouth turned up into a smirk at his appearance, eyes flickering to the sudden movement. Mobius had walked up to the variant, clearly pleased with himself.

"Loki Laufeyson. Glad you could be here." Mobius spoke courtly to him, which caused the man in front of him to roll his eyes. If you didn't know Mobius, you would've thought he would've pruned him right there and then at the action. But that's the thing – you did know him. Mobius would rather work along side this variant and understand him better in person than removing him from the timeline completely. Mobius gave a smile and stepped aside to let the guards through. They walked swiftly, afraid that Loki might try something while not locked up. You staring must've been felt because suddenly his eyes flickered over to your location. If you weren't mistaken, you could've swore you saw a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Oh my god...You couldn't help, but mentally swooned over the variant. You had to manually take care of your breathing as you tried to compose yourself as Mobius came over, huge smile plastered on his face.

"Wasn't that awesome?!" Mobius spoke in a breathy voice, overwhelmed by the encounter. You shot him a small grin, happy that he finally got what he wanted. He pulled you into a huge, bear hug, rocking you back and forth. Mobius pulled away, pressed a kiss to your forehead. He shot you a toothy grin before glancing at one of his own personnel. They gave him some type of gesture, you believe it was to indicate that the variant was ready to be interviewed and he nodded before looking back at you.

"Well, I better go over the variant's history. I'll send my findings up to be filed in a bit." You barely nodded at him before you saw him basically run out of there to get to the interview room. Back against the wall, you stood there for a couple minutes. You would've spoken to Mobius instead of giving simple gestures, but it felt like Loki had stolen your voice. Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself off of the wall and walked out of the docking bay to the files room.

As you got settled in and started to dive into your work, your mind kept wandering to the variant. He was just so hypnotizing and he had you spellbound. Without moving your head, your eyes glanced up at the personnel walking by as you remember somewhere in the file that said his mother – well, adopted mother – had taught him magic. Had he casted an incantation on you? You pondered on this for a while before rolling your eyes.

"We all know magic is incapable of use here." You muttered, internally scolding yourself at the thought. You reached over to grab a file you had to digitize and placed it in the scanner. As you watched the devices bar of light through the closed lid, you realized that you weren't going to get a moment without thinking about the variant. You groaned, sitting back in your chair as you waited for the scanning to finish. You thought this was going to be a long day like the rest. However, it was starting to change. A long day? This was going to be a long week.

  Every work day went the same way, but it appeared Mobius was spending more and more time with the Loki variant. Please let Mobius get his work done with Loki. You internally pleaded this for several mornings as you watched him rush from the apartment to meet up with the God. You placed your hands on the counter as your hung your head, mentally exhausted from thinking about Loki. Maybe you should talk to him? You suggested to yourself as you took in a deep breath, looking up. As you looked up, a magazine caught your eyes. You slid your body over the counter as you reached for it, smiling at the motorcycle on the front. 

"Great," you started, slightly sarcastically. "An excuse not to have to file dad's notes yet. Score!" You celebrated a little before grabbing your things and walking down to files. You were going to file those note whether you liked it or not, you were just going to make it the first thing you did. Walking out, you locked the door, juggling the items you had in your hands. As you swung your bag over your shoulder in the hall, magazine in hand, you heard minute personnel talking behind you, boots rapidly hitting the ground loudly. 

"Did you hear? Mobius is actually trusting the Loki variant to roam the place." The first one spoke, clearly astonished. The other one scoffed behind you.

"I think he's definitely gonna help." The second one's snide remark made you pick up the pace a bit, eager to get away from the negativity.

"Yeah, help himself." The first guard replied in a snarky manner before they both let out demeaning giggles rang out, nauseating you. You swallowed the feeling as you picked up the pace and made it to files. Looking up at the clock on the wall, you saw you were extremely early. Maybe I can get more work done. You mused to yourself as you got the area unlocked and ready for business. Dropping into your chair, you turned on the computer and logged in. As it logged in and took you to the homescreen, you zoned out. Was Mobius really letting Loki walk around freely? You pondered on what the hunters had said, jumping at a file being dropping on the counter. You looked at the guard, who in turn looked at you apologetically, muttering a 'sorry' before scurrying off to their post. You shook your head as you grabbed the file and placed it on the scanner. By the way it was going, you could already tell it was gonna be a long work day.

As hours passed, by the fourth hour of work, you had already gotten all your work done. Even though time moves differently here, it could at least speed the fuck up. You thought, grumpily. Normally at this time, you would have more files coming. You had gotten a notification that no more files were going to come until tomorrow due to printing error. As you sat there, wondering what to do, you remembered your motorcycle magazine. Grabbing it gleefully, you eagerly started to flip through the magazine. As you read each page, you basically checked out if the world around you. In fact, you were so engrossed with the magazine, you barely noticed that Loki had walked up to the counter in front of your desk. He leaned over the desk, examining you, waiting for you to notice his presence. His eyes raked over your body, enticed with what he was seeing. You were the most ravishing person he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Gods, the things he would do to you if he had permission. He leaned further, not realizing you hadn't seen him. After a couple minutes, he decided to clear his throat to catch your attention. The sound startled you as you quickly closed the magazine and threw it under files, looking at the person briefly. As you adjusted yourself, you did a double-take of the person leaning comfortably across from you. You gulped, hoping your sudden nervousness wasn't apparent. He gave you a smile as he caught your eyes, easing the tensions, but causing your stomach to twist into knots. A sailor's knot to be specific, and it was quite uncomfortable. You turned your body more towards him, not realizing it allowed him to take you in fully. His blue eyes flickered down before they rose slowly back to yours.

"Hello, Loki Laufeyson." You spoke slowly, hoping your voice was as steady as you tried to make it. He hummed in response, scanning your chest for a name tag. 

"Hello..." His voice trailed off, realizing he couldn't find your name anywhere.

"..None of your business." You finished his sentence, wanting to mess with him before you actually let him know your name. You couldn't imagine how wide his eyes would be when he learned who your dad was. You watched him suck in his cheeks, trying to figure out how to respond. His eyes closed as he head leaned back fully, allowed your eyes to slowly trail from the underside of his jaw to the bottom of his throat. It was the strangest thing, but you thought it was attractive seeing him like that.  I'd like to see that more often. You chewed on your lip as some questionable thoughts came to mind. His head fell back down, face covered with determination. 

"Excuse my manners. You know my name, but I don't know yours. What is your name? A woman as ravishing as you must have a lovely name.." Loki's voice seemed to grow deeper as the sentence trailed off, flicking his out against his bottom lip as looking you up and down again, hoping you noticed. Without warning, your cheeks grew a little hot. Your eyes flickered down as you tried to make your cheeks go back to their normal hue, mentally scolding yourself. Loki smirked mischievously at your reaction. He watched your head turn back to him, ready to respond.

"It's Y/N. Y/N Mobius." You paused as you watched the gears turn in his head before his mouth formed an 'o' shape. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, let alone the one you wanted.

"He talked about you. I didn't connect the dots that you were his daughter until now." Loki shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a warm, cunning smile. All you did was nod in response. Now that these foolish semantics were done, you decide to find out why he was really here.

"Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, reaching over to clear the computer before logging off. You won't remember to do so after this conversation. You glanced over at him as he quickly put his words together.

"Well, Y/N, I came to see the prettiest person at the TVA." He stated his true intentions, watching your face intently for a reaction. As he watched you stare blankly at him, he realized you might've been oblivious to his flirting attempts. This is going to be harder than I thought. He grumbled internally, throwing a mischievous smile on.

"That would be you, darling." The nickname rolled off of Loki's silver tongue, making your stomach twist tighter. Ignoring the internal war, you have a quick smile before going back to just staring at him. Your unimpressed look threw Loki off completely. He breathed in deeply, realizing he'd have to change the subject to keep this interaction going. He needed this to work.

"Um, anyway... What were you reading? You know, before I distracted you." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, watching your eyes flicker to the finish pile of files. Sighing, you dug out the magazine and tossed onto the counter besides Loki's arms. He eyes the magazine, taking in every detail.

"It's a motorcycle magazine." You explained blatantly, knowing he knew what it was. He hummed in response before chuckling. 

"Your dad likes jet skis and you like motorcycles. Huh." He pondered for a second before continuing. "How interesting." One of his brows raised as he looked up at you, intrigued.

"What can I say? We both are drawn to exciting and fast things. It's our passion." You explained, hoping Loki was going somewhere with this conversation. If he wasn't, you were very much prepared to go home and sleep. He looked down as he licked his lips, eyes peering back up at you through his brows.

"You know, I'm very exciting." Loki stopped his sentence, hoping he had captured your attention. Your attentive eyes stared back at him, head tilting slightly to the right. Make this good, Laufeyson...You internally urged him, eyes squinting slightly.

"And I can go as fast as you like." His eyes flickered to your lips before moving back up, sending you a quick wink as he laughed darkly. You laughed nervously, biting your lip as you brought your hand up to the computer, turning it off. Well, if he's interested. Loki watched you push yourself away from the computer desk, eyes dropping down to your thighs. As much as he tried to stop himself and half some self control, he stared at them, sizing you up a bit. He nodded as his eyes trailed back up your body again, this time he did it seductively, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You walked over to him slowly, hands slowly sliding up his body before settling on his chest, palm towards him. Loki watched you, eager for your next moves. You moved your right hand to grab his tie, gently tugging him towards you. Leaning your mouth up against the corner of his, the corners of your lips turning up teasingly, eyes fluttering closed.

"If you're so confident about that, let's find out." You whispered to him seductively, reaching out and biting his bottom lip. Loki growled at you, roughly grabbing your hips as he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, his tongue making it's way quickly into your own. You moaned as he continued to battle your own tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue grazed against the inside of your mouth, exploring every inch. Suddenly remembering you were out in the open, kissing a variant, you pulled away for air. As you briskly locked everything up, leaving the magazine on the counter, you grabbed Loki's wrist and dragged him back to the shared apartment. You looked behind, winking at him before he hurried to walk beside you, slipping an arm around your waist. The slyness? The mischief? The analytical skills? Loki was without a doubt a green variant, and you were sure his personal skills were going to keep proving that.

You weren't entirely sure of what was going to happen tonight, but you were very eager to let it happen. You just hoped Mobius was so busy talking shop with Ravonna that he wouldn't be coming home.

You can also read this fic here <3

#Loki #Loki One Shot #TVA #TVA AU #Marvel AU #Marvel One Shots #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Mobius M. Mobius #Angst #Light Fluff #Implied Smut

[sunarintoes]

Dear Whovever: [Kenma]

Synopsis: You and Kenma are both best friends and youtube gamers however you want to be more than just best friends so you decide to ‘man up’ one day and write a heart felt confession in a minecraft notebook before then putting it in Kenma’s personal chest.

WC: 3K

TW: slight swearing :)

[Episode one]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!] 

“Hey gamers, Kodzuken here with Tulip-but-make-it-yellow! I've done a few Minecraft videos with Tulip before, but thought I'll start a new series that will be posted every Monday.”

“It's called Minedays with Tulip and Kodzu”

“I- no, Tulip. I'm not sure what we’re gonna call it. But you guys will know- obviously since it's the title of this video.”

You whine and pout into the monitor, “Kodzu I think Minedays is a cute name.” 

Instead of replying Kenma rolls his eyes and hits you ingame. “Should we introduce the challenge and get it started?”

“Yeah that's a good idea!” 

“Well, it's about eleven am right now, we have until eleven pm to build a Minecraft house from a random topic,” he pauses and moves to the side to point to a sectioned spinwheel, “on this bad boy,” whacks the spinner, “we have eight different themes, in a sec I’ll spin it and whatever it lands on will be what we have to build.”

You let out a high pitched ‘hmm,’ “I feel bad for Kuroo and Hinata, they’re both going to have to edit twelve hours of footage down to 10 minutes!”

Kenma chuckles, “fifteen minutes actually.”

This time you roll your eyes. “Hurry up and spin it you fool! I want to get buildinggg” 

Smiling, Kenma moves back a bit and spins the wheel, after thirty seconds full of anticipation the wheel finally stops and its small arrow is pointing at- “Yes! Cottage core theme!” you yell out while Kenma groans. 

“Really? That's lame why couldn't we have ‘Lucifer’s Bedroom’?” 

You poke your tongue out to the monitor - which Kenma could see, after all, you are in a Discord call with him. “Don't be sad just because you're prancing in my turf…. Looooooser!”

Kenma playfully glares towards you, “You’re on! See you in twelve hours!”

Unfortunately, the difficulty of building a cottage core house in the woods - in survival mode, proved more difficult than planned. 

“We spawned in a desolate area huh? Barely any flowers!” you hear Kenma make a sound of agreement as you sink into your comfortable ‘gamer’ styled chair. 

“Don't tell me you've given up? Just because you can't find any flowers?” 

You scowl at his cocky tone however your mood does a one-eighty when you suddenly get a good idea. “Ok everyone! I know what I have to do! I'm going to restart in another place because this isn’t working!”

Kenma makes a sound of surprise, “you're restarting? It's been an hour already-”

“Yeah and we have, like... eleven more.” Kenma sighs in response, “better get a move on.”

For the most part, the two of you kept quiet - not wanting to let the other know how well you were doing. However one look at your phone only to see that your twitter has blown up, you decide to take a short break, after all it has been four hours of you sitting on your ass playing Minecraft. Once you open Twitter you're met with a barrage of tags and mentions - all of which screaming ‘KenYn’ and ‘Kodzutulip.’ You felt heat rise to your face, you - yes you, Ln Yn with the online alias Tulip-but-make-it-yellow, has a big, fat, humongous crush on your best friend and fellow youtuber - Kenma, aka Kodzuken aka the cutest guy in the world. To make it worse - or better, you couldn't really tell, was that many of your viewers shipped you with him - as did his viewers. 

You are of course, happy with this but you can’t help but wonder if Kenma feels the same way, does he feel weirded out by all this shipping content? Does he find it uncomfortable? Does he find it unsettling to be shipped with his in-real-life best friend?

“Hey Yn?” Kenma calls softly, “you've been looking at your phone for the past ten minutes and your face looks sad.”

You instantly look up to meet Kenma’s face and try to find the right words to say, “I… I’m just kinda tired and eventually got distracted!! Sorry Kenken!”

Kenma visibly cringes at the old nickname - the one you gave him in primary school, “if you say so… better get your head in the game though - my mansion looks epic.”

Your eyes narrow, “mansion? The theme is cottage core!” Kenma quietly chuckles in response, “a mansion can still have a fairy aesthetic, you should know that”

You huff in faux annoyance as you place your phone away and ‘get your head in the game’ just as he requested. “Be prepared to be crushed! I am the cottage core guardian!”

There are ten minutes left to your’s and Kenma’s excruciatingly long Minecraft challenge, your ass hurts from sitting on it for almost twelve straight hours - including bathroom breaks. When the buzzer rings the two of you step back from your respective buildings and make your way to the starting point - which had been marked by a stack of 20 or so dirt blocks. 

“Well that was twelve hours of eye straining torture,” you say as you stretch your arms. 

“You're tired already?”

“Kinda… I can't wait to go to sleep after this.”

“Weak, I’m playing Battlefield as soon as this is over.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “this is why you look like a living corpse in the morning…”

Kenma looks you dead in the eyes and with a completely serious face he says, “yeah but you love it.”

You choke on your spit at his boldness, “y-yeah I guess.” 

If you were being honest, you were not the best at reading people and it was dark in Kenma’s gaming room, the only light coming from his three screen/monitor computer setup, but you think you see a light blush creep up to his cheeks. And you hate it, you hate when he says things that make your heart flutter, you hate it when he just sits there and the digital glow accentuates all of his delicate features, but what you hate most is yourself. You hate yourself because you have fallen in love with your best friend, you hate yourself because you know he doesn't like you back and you hate that you continuously give yourself a sense of false hope. 

“Yn… you want to stay up and game with me don’t you? ”

You sheepishly look to the side, ‘mayhaps.’

Kenma sighs looking at you with a soft face as he whispers “then I won’t play Battlefield and I’ll go to bed and so will you, ‘kay?”

You smile tiredly at him, “sounds like a deal.”

“We'll get back on at the same time tomorrow and we’ll do the final part of this video - the reveal. Until then.”

You smile and wave at the camera “cya soon~”

[recording over]

After your call with Kenma ended you got ready for bed but for some reason, no matter how tired you were, you just couldn't fall asleep - your mind was screaming obscene ideas that you couldn't help but contemplate. At first it was just wishful thinking but then came a thought that refused to leave, ‘confess.’ 

It was a tempting thought, but how? Surely you couldn't just say ‘hey Kenma I've liked you since high school lets date!’ yeah no, that was a horrible idea. Maybe if you confessed with some originality he would be more likely to accept but for now, you were going to do your best to go to sleep.

[Episode two]

[recording in 3… 2… 1… start!] 

In the morning you woke up feeling refreshed and excited for the day to come, Kenma had texted you and asked if you were feeling up to recording the reveal from last night and episode two today and of course you said yes. 

The video goes on without any troubles and soon you find yourself staring at the computer screen at eleven once again. 

“Remember to like, subscribe and comment below on who you think won this round.” Kenma’s voice is soothing - if you had to describe it you would say that it is silky like honey and smooth like dark chocolate; or maybe you would just say his voice is perfect. Kenma waves to the screen monitor, “hello? Earth to Yn! Are you dead or something? You look like a zombie.”

It takes a while to register, you weren’t really paying attention to the words he said as you were more interested in the way he sounded. You sit up and smile into the camera, “I'm awake… thanks for caring!”

He scoffs and swivels in his chair a bit, “I don't care about you, you're just my idiot best friend and flatmate.”

You playfully narrow your eyes, “well this idiot flatmate of yours helped you bake apple pie so you wouldn’t starve to death!”

“Hmmm, I guess. Well I'm going to head off. I'll see you later.”

You smile softly, “yeah I'll see you later, i'm just gonna stay on for a while.”

Kenma looks at you with an intrigued expression, “you're going to stay up longer? Better not be in this world, that's cheating. Want me to stay up with you?”

You roll your eyes and giggle, “it's all good I want to fix my house up in the other world. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He sighs, “if you say so.”

[recording over]

Your chair rolls back as you stretch, “maybe I should confess to him through a Minecraft journal…” you jump up. “Thats it! Thats a great way to confess! Its original and Kenma would appreciate it…. If he accepts my feelings that is…” 

You groan and slump back down into the chair, “maybe it’s best if I don't confess at all. No! I've wanted to do this for years! If he doesn't like me back it's all good! Maybe I just won't do this on a stream!”

You reach over to the bench and pull up your phone, “who to call, mmm ok let’s call Alisa I’m going to need some emotional support!”

“Hey gamers, Kodzu here in another Minecraft live stream, today we’re just in mine and Yn’s regular world and i'm going to build a house - a cottage to be specific,” he pauses and looks at the comment section; ‘no Yn isn't here right now, no Yn won't be joining this video, no I didnt know shes streaming at the moment, yes my favourite food is apple pie, yes I have a calico cat, no Yn is not my significant other, yes we are just friends.’ Kenma moves back and takes a breath, “wow you guys sure are interested in Yn huh? Maybe I should get them in more videos, might get more views that way,” he laughs a bit.

“Let's start off by heading to my base, I have the materials I’ll need there- oh uh what's this?” Kenma pauses as he stares at the foreign object, “I don't remember having a written book in my chest… maybe Yn went in here and put it in?”

Kenma stares at the book for a while before he opens it, only to be shocked. The comment section notices the blush on his face and continue to spam him with questions:

[kodzusbabe]: what's in that diary!!

[Kenmastan]: hahAAAHHA LOOK HE’S SO RED IN THE FACE

[piefacecutie]: ^^ omg you're so right @/Kenmastan hes so cute 💓

[Kenmaxyn]: I hope it's a confession!

[ynhater]: @/Kenmaxyn from who? Cause I didn't do it and I'd be the only one for Kenma oppAr

[kennismaken]: I hope it’s Yn! They’d be such a cute couple

[applepudding]: umm? Kodzu! Why did he get up and leave??

[ynhater]: babe come back!

[Kenmaxyn]: OMG MAYBE IT WAS YN !!!!

After your late night call with Alisa, you decided it would be best to just do it and then ignore Kenma for the day - well, not ignore him per se, just simply decline all his Discord calls and Facetime calls so you could put off being rejected a little while longer. You woke up with a throbbing headache that you could only blame yourself for, after all you are the dumbass who stayed up until God knows when just to write a heartfelt confession. Eventually the angst of waiting for a message from Kenma overwhelmed you and here you are now; streaming Overwatch to get your mind off of a certain someone.

“Ah no! Cant believe that stupid Hanzo got me! What a pain!” you frown at the screen and let out a sigh, “the round is over… bummer. Well while we wait an eternity for the next round I guess I should answer some of your questions… oh? I didn't know Kenma was streaming, no I’m not dating him… “ you feel your heart sink as you read the next comment; “what do you mean Kenma ran away after reading a book? Was he unhappy?”

The next moments felt like a blur, your heart was heavy and you felt tears well up in your eyes and somehow you missed the sound of someone breaking into your apartment and then your bedroom. Within a second you feel someone wrap their arms around you from behind, your body tenses up but immediately relaxes when you recognise the perpetrators scent; sweet yet salty, like caramel toffee.

“Kenma! W-what are you doing?”

“I like you too… I have for so long.”

Your eyes widen and it doesn't take too long for a smile to appear on your face, “I'm so glad to hear that.”

You feel him smile into your neck as his embrace tightens, “finish up your livestream so we can talk please.” 

“You don't need to tell me twice!”

It is eleven at night once again, but this time you’re not sitting alone in your gaming chair, instead you're sitting on Kenma’s lap - in his gaming chair as he slowly runs his hands through your hair and softly kisses your neck.

“So everyone’s pretty much freaking out over us huh?” you hum in response, “we’ve been officially together for what? Five hours?”

“Correct you are.”

You smile and hold up your phone while you continue to cuddle into him, “smile baby, I want the whole world to know that you're my player two.”

[Bonus - the love letter]

Dear Kenma,

This must be so strange - finding a journal in your chest. 

I have wanted to tell you this for quite a while and I guess I have never found the write words to say; or the right way to for that matter,

But I love you

I have loved you since our first year at Nekoma

It's been a while hasn’t it?

I'm sorry if this inconveniences you, makes you uncomfortable or makes you never want to see me again; 

Just let me continue for a little while longer because I need to get this off of my mind.

I love your smile - especially the rare one where you really smile, where your eyes crinkle and your cheeks begin to hurt 

I love your voice - it’s smooth and silky, like honey being spread across bread

I love your scent - it reminds me of salted caramel,  I can never get enough 

I love your mind - the way it works to make me laugh, make me calm and all else

I love your lips - not necessarily in a sexual way, but more so in the way you talk and speak, they move softly and slowly in a way only your lips could move in.

I love your body - how although you're hunched most of the time you still possess a fine elegance in the way you move. How at times it reminds me of a graceful swan floating down a lake. 

I love your hands - they are so pretty and dainty and soft, I want to hold them all day and all night

And most of all;

I love you

I love you in your entire

I could go ahead and pick the parts I love most and least but then you would no longer be you

I love you in your entire

Flaws and all

I know this may not be the most romantic, especially considering you’re reading this through Minecraft and I've never done this before but I had to let you know

Love 

Yn

Taglist: [open] @ladyrenart

note: sooo this is another style that i tried and i have mixed feelings about it :) also if you can’t tell,,, i’ve never written a love letter before :’)

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma angst #dear whoever #dear whoever: a haikyuu series #kozume kenma x reader

[laytonsartblog]

The Best of Worst Days

Economic Crisis AU

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Warning: this content has violence, poverty, guns, starvation, hypothermia, dysfunctional family themes, and dystopian themes. Read when comfortable and in a safe spot. Care for yourself.

--

Patton has a schedule he dedicates his life to.

First, to get up at five.

Then take a shower, standing in a bucket.

Why a bucket? To catch the dirty water.

After his shower, Patton will put that murky liquid into a filter to drain out all the gunk and make him and his son breakfast while he's waiting. Once he's finished with all of that, he takes the filtered water and pours it into empty water bottles and then throws them into his tiny icebox.

Proceeding is obviously to wake up his adorable little four-year-old Virgil and eat with him until it's time to go at six-thirty, and walk Virgil to his pre-k daycare with the rest of breakfast and the fresh water bottle as lunch.

From that point on it's just to get to his work at the construction site by seven and work until two pm, and pick Virgil up to bring home.

They play and eat and maybe visit the park for two hours, then Patton has to get to his other job down the block at a small crafts store by five, which is where he'll be until midnight, then walk all the way back home and fall flat on his face to sleep on the floor.

Simple, right?

Yes, well, there's this thing called sleep depriviation and insomnia that gets in the way.

When Patton wakes up as he does every day, his tired eyes make their way to the clock before bulging out of his head. It's six am.

He scrambled to get Virgil up and about. "Virgil!" Patton whispered as he gently shook his son's shoulders. "Virgil, Papa's running late for work, you need to make your own sandwich while I get ready, okay?"

Virgil merely whined and curled in closer to his thin blanket.

"Pleeeeeease?" Patton pleaded. "I know it's a bit sudden and I usually let you sleep in more, but Papa can't do everything at once, okay?"

Virgil finally sat up and groaned, wiping his eyes. "S'okay, Papa. I'll help."

Patton smiled softly as Virgil clumsily went about to his little cubby to grab a clean shirt and shorts to change into, before remembering the time and running off to change too.

Patton came out of the bathroom with his expendable construction t shirt and jeans and stared at the time; six-thirty.

"Come on, Virgil," Patton urged gently as he picked his boy up. "We're gonna need to skip breakfast today, but I'll leave you some money to get something at the cafeteria, okay?"

Virgil nodded sleepily against Patton's chest. "Okay, Papa..."

Patton sighed contentedly as he continued to hold Virgil on the rest of the walk to the daycare before placing him gently down in front of the door. He fished in his pockets for change.

"Don't worry, honey, I'll have something here somewhere..." Patton trailed off as he continued to search through his pockets for maybe even a dime, but, no, there was nothing. Patton gave up his search with a sigh. "Well, kiddo, I- I think you'll need to ask for some of your friend's extra snacks, or maybe one of the teachers to get you something because Papa doesn't- Papa doesn't have the money."

Virgil looked like his rubber duck had just been melted and Patton almost teared up at the sight. He hated having to starve his own son because he couldn't get the money.

Virgil ran up and hugged Patton's skinny legs. "Is okay, Papa, 'm okay, Papa go job," he mumbled into the cloth of Patton's jeans. "I go play now." He ran off like a wolf into the night into the daycare, rushing to play with the fun trains. A complete switch.

Patton would have broke down then if it weren't for the fact he was on the clock.

He ran to the site he was supposed to be working on, just two or three miles away. When he got there, however, his manager stood with a tapping shoe and folded arms.

"Look who finally showed up!" she snarked, red luxerious lipstick painted bright to announciate every twisted syllable.

Patton's shoulders went sky high to hide his paler-than-average face. "I-I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologized. "I didn't mean to- my son, I had to drop him off to daycare, and he was being fussy, so-"

Patton didn't like to lie, but it was the only way for him to keep the job. If she found out it was because he woke up late? A big fat 'FIRED' notice would appear in his p.o. box.

The woman sighed. Her foot stopped tapping, but her arms stayed crossed. "Listen..." she started. "You seem to work hard and you've got a kid to take care of. I get it. Times like these in this stupid country can be tough."

Patton felt some hope glimmer in his chest. Perhaps just a warning?

"But that doesn't exclude the fact you've been late four times this month, fainted twice from exhaustion, and spread the cough to my workers last winter."

Patton's heart sank back to where it was before.

"That's why... I need to let you go. It's hard work and I cannot have tardiness and exhaustion running my construction equipment."

And that's when Patton's heart went all the way down to Hell.

"You're... I'm... I'm fired?" Patton gasped out, almost as if he couldn't believe it; or rather, didn't want to.

His manager nodded. "I'm so sorry, Patton, you seem like a fine worker. You're just not cut out for working early hours on tough plaster with a kid to take care of and a whole load of sleep problems."

Patton's hands felt numb but slimy. He was sweating but he couldn't even tell if it was hot. All he felt was cold; cold dread, cold guilt, cold everything.

"I-I'm sorry, maybe I could- maybe you could move me down to textile ordering management?" Patton tried not to let that determined little speck of hope reach too high in his voice; it still strained of heartbreak either way.

Her bright red lips frowned and her mascara-covered eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Patton, but those spots are all full. If you wanted to really work there, you could be the mission boy, but that's significantly lesser pay, and may conflict with the schedule you're on."

Patton sighed, his hope and heart finally settling in a dark chasm in his chest. "Thank you for at least concerning it, ma'am, I'll- I'll be on my way, now."

With a racking breath and wobbly knees, Patton turned away and walked back home. Once through the door, he sat on the small mattress Virgil used and began to sob.

"I can't feed my child, I lost my job, and bills are coming up! What the hell am I to do?" Patton yelled as he bawled into his hands.

Every part of him screamed and ached. He needed sleep, he needed rest, he needed something to eat, he needed his child to hold dear, he just needed; but he can never have what he wants, especially like the sad sack of debt and depression he was.

Patton couldn't exactly tell how long he had cried for, but the next time he looked up at the clock, it was eight am. He figured that the library was open, so he might as well head over there for a free read to calm down.

That, and free wifi and computer access.

Patton tried to make himself not look like the outside rendition of how he was feeling on the inside as he walked along the craggy sidewalks to the nearby city library. His attempts to cover up the way his hair sagged and his eyes pulsed didn't exactly prove fruitful as people walked by in sympathy or disgust. Their reactions only made Patton's heart clench more.

After he finished his three mile walk, he practically ghosted through the library doors; he looked as much, anyway, with his pale face and sunken eyes.

The librarian from across the room lowered his sunglasses, intrigued and a little suspicious.

The depression hit almost everyone, yes, but that didn't mean that hobos possibly addicted to meth were a person Remy was begging to listen to on a Monday morning in a damn library. Remy was not awake enough to tell the raggedy middle aged patron this wasn't the back alley to sneak some crack in before making his way back on the streets to ask for a job, so Remy just adjusted his sunglasses and resumed looking up sugar daddies on his phone.

Patton ignored the stares from the young librarian and instead went to the computer, taking out his library card and typing out the number and sending it in. After waiting for what seemed like hours, the internet finally decided to load the computer up and allow Patton to search for more loan applications and job openings.

However, he came up empty handed.

The jobs either weren't paying enough, required a higher degree than a high school diploma, or were simply too far away. The loans? They would cause more debt; Patton was better off without more false promises.

There was a website Patton was interested in, though, that he found while scrolling through the Google search "friend finding": GetAlong.

GetAlong, apparently, was a free penpal website people could use do the same as texting without having to pay for it. Except, there's a twist; the people you meet are strangers. They could be from across the country, across the planet, your next-door neighbor, anyone who signs up with the site is eligible for you to meet. You could message eachother, send pictures, videos, links, live feeds, and sticker-like emoji; all within the website.

The only consolation is for it to be anonymous. The only information you can put is your first name, your age, your gender, and maybe some things you're interested in. The rest is to fill in for yourself after you meet them.

The reason Patton was so interested is because he needed someone to talk to. Sure, he had Virgil to play with on bad days, and he had his coworker Roman from the crafts store he still worked at, but other than that? No family, no friends, and no help.

Perhaps this website could at least bring him some happiness.

So Patton, with a lot more time on his hands and feeling a lot more distraught than normal, signed up.

Patton Gentile, 32, trans-male. I like knitting, snuggling up in the winter, and taking care of my son. Hope to give you a happy hello soon!

Patton stared back at the words on the screwn with his fingers hovering over the keyboard, motionless.

Was this really all I needed to say? he thought. Did I need to say more, or less?

He decided to get it over with and hit send, leaving his mark on the world.

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

Taglist:

@amazable01 @vara-albion

#sanders sides #economical dystopian #Economic Crisis AU #patton sanders #hurt/comfort #angst #sanders sides fanart #roman sanders #ts roman #ts patton #sympathetic patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ch.1 #mobile #layton's writing #layton's art

[hellscarnage]

so this year is pretty rough so far. I've had a few things pile up on me and just weigh me down heavily. the biggest of those things is the fact that i had to put my sweet shadow cat down yesterday.

i know I've talked to friends about it and keep repeating the same shit and I'm sure people are tired of hearing it and me being mopey, but i just wanted to make a post and talk about my cat. he meant a lot to me and i miss him. you don't have to read it. honestly it's more for me than anything.

shadow was a super sweet cat. he was very loving, and anyone who met him loved him, even people who said they hated cats loved him. not that he gave you much choice mind. you would sit down and he'd come over and plop down in your lap and start purring. you wouldn't even have to touch him. he was just always happy to be involved.

his purring was very loud. like you could hear this cat from the room over he was that loud. he had the most distinct chirpy meows i have ever heard from a cat and i loved them. you look at him or say his name, he always gave that chirpy lil meow to respond back.

i first got shadow back in 2010. one of our other cats had him, and five others. he was the runt of the litter too and used to be so small, whenever he got closed out of a room, he could pull himself under the door. he just loved being included. he was born on august 9th, 2010 (8/9/10).

back in 2015, shadow had started coughing a bit and having trouble breathing to the point that his mouth was wide open. i immediately freaked out and ran him to the vet. as it turned out, shadow had asthma. which... was something i didn't know cats could even get. he got put on medication and he was doing really well the last five years.

i had a big move back at the beginning of 2018 and had to move across the country. of course i took him with me (and his brother as well). so shadow got to see a few states and he got to travel. which makes me happy. i ended up moving back and couldn't keep them with me, so i asked a family friend to watch over him. she did and he was doing great. got to go see him and everything. well the beginning of this year i moved into my own place again. shadow seemed to be doing just fine. and when i came home from work monday night he was just sitting there, mouth open and looking at the ceiling. i gave him his meds and he seemed to get better.

i fell asleep and woke up the next morning and he was laying on the ground, mouth wide open, breathing heavily with a puddle of drool around his mouth. i freaked out when his medication didn't work and rushed him to the vet.

honestly the vet was probably the best vet I've ever been to. i called ahead and asked about billing since I'm broke right now and when the doctor came over to me she told me straight up

"he's having trouble breathing. when i listen to his heart I don't hear crackling in his lungs like you would with most cats with asthma. I'm pretty sure his heart is failing. we can do everything in our power to save him, but it's going to be expensive and will not guarantee anything. while it's not an ideal situation, if you decide to put him to sleep, I'll pay for it out of pocket."

she explained everything to me the nicest possible way she could (only can really be so nice and blunt at the same time in this situation). she didn't have to do that and i really appreciated it so much. i was ready to cry from her generosity and losing shadow all at once.

but. in the end i did have to make a call that no one ever wants to make. i wanted to hold him while she injected him but he was in pain so i didn't move him too much. instead i just slipped my hand under his head, pet his head with my thumb and rubbed his tummy with my free hand. gave him plenty of forehead kisses as well. i wanted him to go knowing that he was loved.

i have to go get his ashes tomorrow. i know it's going to eat me up inside too. it's already doing it just sitting here thinking about it. i did have a friend offer to get his urn though which was very nice as well.

honestly i keep thinking i did the wrong thing. he's had asthma attacks in the past and recovered from them like a champ. so i keep sitting here asking myself "what if he would have been fine? what if it's just an episode and it would have passed and i put him to sleep for nothing?" i have to keep reminding myself that i didn't. he was hurting and suffering and it wasn't fair to him. i just miss him so much and it's really hard to come to terms with it.

it hurt and still hurts to have let him go. and probably will hurt for awhile. but I'm glad he's not hurting anymore. he didn't deserve that. he was a sweet, loving kitty who deserved all the love in the world and then some.

shadow I'm happy that we got to spend the last decade together. you meant the world to me (still do) and I'll miss you so much everyday knowing i won't wake up to you purring like a motor in my face or trying to crawl into my lap while I'm on my computer. you were an amazing cat, friend, child, and companion. i love you so much buddy. rest easy.

#fantasmical #cats #long post #sorry #i just really miss him

[okaneganai-no-rondo]

Elisabeth Tsukigumi 2018 Review

So let me preface this with the fact that calling this a review is probably a lie. This is more me needing to vent all of my emotions into the semi-anonymous void of the internet. This is gonna be real long and rambling, and more personal than actual review. You could call it a stream of consciousness gushing coming from a new fan.

A little (another lie) backstory on me. I like Elisabeth a whole heck of a lot. It is probably my favorite musical ever, and has been for about eight years. I learned about Takarazuka and Elisabeth simultaneously, associating the Takarazuka Revue in my head as pretty ladies who perform Elisabeth and also The Rose of Versailles. This was a simpler time. I had no real knowledge of or access to any resources about Takarazuka. But yet, the idea of this show intrigued me to no end. I have always been a huge history buff, and it seemed to me that this show checked all of my boxes. So what did I do, at fourteen and full of all of these questions? I turned to YouTube, and while I found very little Takarazuka content, I did find an incomplete subtitled version of the 2005 Vienna Revival of Elisabeth. I devoured it. I watched it like a TV show, waiting anxiously for each new section to be translated and uploaded. I was in love with every aspect of it; the cast, the characterizations, the staging, everything. I talked to everyone who I thought would even be the least bit interested about it. It consumed me and my interests as much as I did it. I watched it at least ten times a year for five years, until it was removed from YouTube for copyright. Understandably. By this point I've accepted it, I have the translations almost by heart so I can get by with the soundtrack. I still really enjoy a lot of media influenced by the Takarazuka Revue, but have no real idea where to start consuming any of that material.

Flash forward to this year. I'm accepted into the JET program and placed in Hyogo prefecture. One of the first things I look up is how far away Takarazuka is. It might as well be down the street. I check the upcoming shows. Elisabeth, a month after my arrival. I stalk the English ticket page, with a desperation previously unknown to me. This was my chance to see Elisabeth live, an impossibility up until now. And I got the tickets, for a weekend show towards the end of the run. The most stressful ten minutes of my life, when my computer decided it didn't want to reload the page. But I got them, and I was going.

I started to latch onto any information about Takarazuka and their productions of Elisabeth that I could. And honestly? I was a little disappointed. It seemed so far from what I knew Elisabeth to be. The alternate or omitted songs really got to me, and so did the characterization of Death as more of a romantic hero (when contrasted with Maté Kamaras' forceful, sadistic Der Tod). But, I decided to give it an open mind. Especially since I had spent so much money on tickets, and had waited so long. So I found a friend to give my extra ticket to, and we made a plan to go.

We ended up taking the Hankyu line to Takarazuka, so I definitely made the joke that we fell right into a trap made by a 1910's Japanese businessman. That Mr. Hankyu is crafty.

I would say, that up until we crossed the Muko river from the station, that doubt in my mind still lingered. But the second we touched that bridge, something inside me changed. I got infected with the aura surrounding the theater. There was some magic in the air that just hooked its claws into me and told me to stay. There was something about the energy surrounding the place, that I really can't describe.

By the time the curtain rose I was hyped. And rightfully so. The next few hours were some of the most memorable performances I've ever seen staged.

Manaki Reika, whose voice I wasn't a fan of in the trailers I had seen, was spectacular. The parts of her performance that I hadn't enjoyed in glimpses ended up blending and evolving throughout the show as her character aged and matured. Her scene in the insane asylum struck me in particular, but her whole performance had an air of grace around it most deserving of an actress of her caliber. I am saddened that this is the only memory I'll have of her live on this stage.

Touka Yurino's Sophie was also a standout. She disappeared into her role, fully embodying it. I loved her voice, and the commanding presence she had on stage. I dearly wished that they would have given her "Bellaria", instead of whisking her off to her death mid-song. But alas, this is not that staging.

This performance was the morning of September 22nd, the first day of Miya Rurika's absence. But, due to me not reading postings at the theater/not having great Japanese comprehension all of the time, I had no idea until several hours after the performance. All of the switched roles blended flawlessly, still meeting all of the expectations you have for the characters beat for beat. And that blew my mind and really drilled into me how talented, trained, and rehearsed all of these women are. How do you go from playing Luigi Lucheni to Franz Joseph in one night? I was wowed throughout the performance by every actor, from the top stars to the smallest roles in the crowd. The effort they put into this craft is unimaginable to me, and they pull it off in the most magical of spectacles.

Finally, I want to talk about Tamaki Ryou. Her Tod bewitched me. Every scene, no matter where she was or what she was doing, I couldn't help but watch her helplessly. The best way for me to describe the characterization of death in this show as I understand it in my head, is that this Elisabeth and the Vienna staging I hold so closely to my heart are two sides of the same story. The Vienna revival is Elisabeth's story, plain and simple. She is tormented by death, his dark shadow leaving its wake upon everything in her life from the moment that she first spoke to him. Takarazuka is Death's story, him giving voice to Elisabeth's tale. He pines for her, she continues to rebuff him no matter how many options he gives her. He frames her narrative, but without the maliciousness. Does that make any sense? I'm not sure. Either way I spent probably $130 on pictures of Tamaki Ryou's face so who am I to talk? I've probably listened to the demo CD they were selling of three songs from the show about 50 times now, and every strain of Tamaki's voice in "Ai to Shi no Rondo" cuts me like a knife. The song that I thought I was going to hate became my new favorite, a fresh insert to the show that is constantly reframed by its reprisals. I love it, and I love her.

If I have one complaint about the show, it would have to be the omission of the death of little Sophie. I feel like that small part really sets the tone for the rest of the show. Like Death is here, and even if you have your small victories you will not outrun him or outlast him. But that's just my take. Otherwise 10/10, would stand in line for five hours to watch another performance if I had the time. Also will trade left kidney come November for dvds.

#elisabeth das musical #takarazuka #takarazuka revue #tsukigumi #review #long

[chiliiscereal]

Okay so I kinda wanted something a little heart felt and sad, and I got back into Voltron again so here we goooooooo. Also since Mother's Day is on its way it's kinda themed that way. Go hug ur moms okay? Or go hug the people that matter to you if you can't or don't want to :p 

By the way, there's mentions of death so... beware? 

——

"Keith, don't push yourself too hard." You called from the side of the training room with worry. That boy kept upping the fighting level of the training bot. He hadn't eaten breakfast yet, he hadn't had any water, and he went to bed late last night. It was just a disaster waiting to happen. 

  Keith wiped the sweat off his forehead and readjusted his grip on his sword. "I'm fine." He ran at the bot again. 

  You bit at your nails nervously. "You want to take a break? I can make you a snack or something. You should really eat or take a nap..." 

"I said I'm fine!" He yelled as the bot swiped at him. "You're distracting me! Just go!" 

You swallowed your hurt. "Okay... let me know if you need-."

"Go!" 

——

"Hunk, that's dangerous!" You called up to the yellow paladin.

He was cooking in the kitchen and was trying to reach the bowl on the top shelf. Instead of grabbing a ladder he used a swivel chair. 

"I got it!" He yelled down to you. 

You knitted your eyebrows together. "You sure? I can grab a ladder... or I can get the bowl for you?" 

He could fall and hurt himself. 

He could break a bone.

He could get a concussion.

"Y/N, no offense, but I don't need your help, okay?" He informed you, stretching his hand out to grab the bowl. "I got it. I can do things myself, you know." 

"I know..." you trailed off, running closer to stabilize the chair he was standing on. "I just worry about you guys." 

  "Just stop, okay?" His fingers barely touched the rim of the bowl. "We don't need a mom." 

 His words ripped at your heart. So you let go. He was right. They didn't need a mom. You were just being a smothering worry wart. 

"Okay." You sighed, leaving the kitchen and casting one last glance at the disaster waiting to happen. "You're right! But if you need anything-."

  "Nope. I'm good."

——-

"Pidge, maybe you should put the computer away." You told the girl from your spot on the couch. "You've been on it all day."

She wasn't being very social. It couldn't be good for her. Maybe a little time away from it would be good for her.

  She snorted. "And do what?"

  You frowned at her. "I don't know, play a game? We could rope the other paladins into it." Your worry faded as your enthusiasm grew. "Maybe Allura and Coran have some Altman games we could try?" 

  "I doubt we'd understand it." Pidge shot that idea down immediately.

  You tensed a bit. "Okay... maybe we play an earth game!" 

  Pidge chuckled as she typed away at her computer. "What, like hide and seek?"

  "Yeah! The castle is big enough and maybe it'll lift everyone's spirits-!"

  "Sorry, but hide and seek is a bit childish." Pidge rolled her eyes before returning to her screen. "We're not little kids." 

  You clenched yourself fists a bit. "I know that, but-."

"Then act like it." 

You stood up awkwardly. "Okay... I'm sorry. I'll just... I'll just go."

Pidge said nothing as you left.

——

"Lance don't tamper with that!" You ran over to the boy messing with the gravity generator. "You don't want to break it!" 

  He rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna break it. Coran told me that it needed to be fixed, so I'm fixing it! You should be happy I was motivated to help for once!" 

 His humor didn't ease your nerves. If anything it made your worry more. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" You glanced over his shoulder. "You could get shocked or turn the gravity off!" 

 "It's fineee. Besides, Pidge told me how to fix it a little while ago." He shrugged and continued rewiring it. 

  You fidgeted a bit. "How long ago was that?" 

  Lance paused and thought a bit. "I don't know, maybe last month?"

  "Lance!" You groaned. "Why don't you at least go ask Pidge again? Or ask Hunk or Coran?" 

  "I got this! I know what I'm doing so just back off!" His playful attitude faded. "Just get off my back!" 

You bit your lip and nodded. "Okay... I'm sorry." 

  He glanced at you still watching him with worry. "I mean like... right now."

  "Oh. Right." You sighed and walked down the hallway.

——-

You bit at your nails as you tried to wrap your mind around what you should do. These kids needed someone to look out for them, but how could you do that without smothering them? Maybe not jump into the problem right away? Would that work? Would they still get upset? 

You walked by the lounge door and stopped when you heard a conversation on the other side. Maybe you should join them! Test out your idea. Just relax. Show them you wouldn't smother them. 

You took in a breath and went to open the door. 

The words you heard inside stopped you. 

"Ugh, she's been breathing down my neck since we first got to the castle!" Pidge complained. 

"She has been a bit... much." Hunk added. "It's hard to relax and cook when someone is constantly making sure you're not messing up." 

  "I know right?!" Lance jumped in quickly. "I was trying to fix something, and she just wouldn't stop pestering me!" 

  "She also distracted me when I was training this morning." Keith muttered. "I feel like I don't get enough space." 

  "If you want space, just look out the window." Lance chuckled. "Plenty of space out there." 

  "Shut up!"

  "Ow! Don't hit me!" 

You shoved down the immediate response you got of trying to break up their fight. They didn't want that. Or you. At all. 

 "Yesterday, she even tried to tell Allura she needed to rest." Pidge added. "Something about how she needed her energy or whatever. Allura's the princess! And an alien! She doesn't need someone to boss her around. Especially someone who doesn't even pilot a lion!"

Bossy. 

Nosey. 

Smothering.

Annoying.

Useless.

  That's what they really thought. 

  You turned away from the door, face growing warm and tears threatening to fall. 

You could change. 

You could stay away. 

Maybe you could just... not try to see when they needed help.

Avoid the situation entirely.

Then you wouldn't feel the need to be like that. 

   You swiped the tears from your eyes. 

  "Hey, are you okay?" A voice asked from behind you. 

 You jumped and turned around quickly. 

"Oh," you sighed in relief when you saw your best friend, Shiro. You'd trained with him in the Garrison and even worked with him as a teacher. "Hey Shiro." You wiped the remaining tears away. "What up?" 

  He frowned and walked closer. "Nothing... just a bit concerned I guess. Have... have you been crying?" 

  You shook your head quickly. "No! No I haven't. I'm good." 

  He chuckled lightly. "You know, lying isn't very effective when there's evidence." 

  You laughed to. "Yeah, I guess that's right." 

  "I just wanted to check on you... cause I know the anniversary of... you know...." he rubbed the back of his head nervously. 

  "Yeah." You looked to the ground. "It's coming up." Your heart jumped a bit at the thought. It'd already been two years since that day. Your tears began to fall a little faster.

Shiro frowned. "I just wanted to let you know that we're here for you, okay?" 

You nodded. "Yeah, definitely." 

He rubbed your shoulder a bit. "I know I wasn't close with him, but it hurts me to... even though I only met him a couple times." 

  You smiled softly. "He still adored you. He thought you were the coolest thing Dino nuggets. He tried to convince me to let him cut his hair like yours, and I nearly had a heart attack when I caught him trying to take apart my car engine to follow you into space." 

You both shared a fond laugh.

  "Well, just let me know if you need anything, yeah?" He grinned. "I'll be in the lounge." 

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm just gonna be in my room." You gestured to the hallway.

 "I'll tell the paladins you say hi." 

#voltron #space dad #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #lance mcclain #wattpad

[tea-and-toblerones]

Unison  Chapter 5- If You Ever Want to Join Me Baby, I'll Be Dancing in the Dark

I'm not even going to bother with a clever opening. 

Rated M for the smut 

I led him into my apartment flicking on the lights as I led him to my couch. My apartment wasn't exactly what you'd call big but I absolutely adored it. The kitchen was to the left of the front door. Small but it had the basics. Perfect for me since I really didn't cook much. There was an bar that separated my kitchen from the living room. The left side of the wall was mostly taken up by windows. I had placed a small desk beside it, covered in papers, my laptop and a half drunk cup of tea. Outside was a fire escape that you could usually catch me on in the wee hours of the morning, mug of coffee between my hands watching the sunrise or in the middle of the night, sipping on my tea listening to the sounds of a sleeping city. In the center was my cozy red couch, a small battered coffee table sat in front of it. Across the room was my tv, placed right beside my bedroom door.

I took my purse off, motioning for Ed to sit on the couch. as he sank down in its plush cushions, I placed my purse on the back of my desk chair. The clacking of my shoes on the wood floors breaking the silence that had fallen over us. I wasn't angry with him in the least bit. To the contrary, I was impressed, no proud. He stopped when I asked him to, no hesitation, no trying to convince me otherwise. I bustled around the kitchen, pulling down two cups as the coffee brewed.  

"How do you take your coffee?" He didn't respond and for a moment I had wondered if he had fallen asleep already. "Ed? Are you awake?" "Yeah, I'm awake." His response flat and void of any type of emotion. "Just cream is fine, thanks." I pulled the creamer out of my fridge, my hand resembling a claw from one of those infuriating machines you see in malls and arcades across the country. I placed it in front of him before heading back to grab my own cup, pausing to snag a couple packs of sugar and a spoon. Before I sank down my chair that matched my couch, I tossed the couple packets of sugar on the table along with the spoon. "How'd you--?" He started, looking at me for the first time since he entered my apartment. "Lucky guess. You seem to have a taste for the sweeter things." I watched him place a splash of creamer and shake a packet into his coffee, stirring it before taking a sip. After a moment he set the cup back on the coffee table. He ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated growl. "Look, I should just go home." His hands jerking from his head where they had been resting. Bitterness saturated his voice. " What I did was not okay and I shouldn't be here."  He stood up and started to head for the door before I gently called out to him. "I know your mom raised a gentleman." "Obviously she didn't." He muttered darkly but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks. "Well that's bullshit." I said calmly but firmly, making sure my voice was free of anything resembling anger. "It's rude to leave a majority of a beverage untouched y'know. At least finish your drink. " I leaned back in my chair, taking a long drink out of my own cup. He stood there for a moment before turning back and flopping back on the couch. I leaned over in my chair, reaching to push his coffee toward him. His fingers wrapped around the cup though it remained on the table. The truth is I was worried about leaving him in this state.  His expression was a dark one, his teeth kept pulling at his bottom lip, his brows drawn down. His leg bouncing in aggravation. I sat in silence, knowing nothing I said was going to cause the storm to dissipate.  No, it was best to just ride it out. He'd talk when he was ready.  His eyes would flick to me every so often, following me around as I walked around the living room, tidying up a bit. It took me a moment to notice the silence that had enveloped the apartment which meant his leg had stopped bouncing. When I walked to the front of the couch I had seen that his eyes had fallen closed and he had started to shift forward, his head slowly making its way to the table. I gently pull his fingers from the cup and ease him into a laying position. I plucked his glasses off his face, taking a moment to admire his freckles before placing them on the table and continuing on. My fingers nimbly working on the laces of his shoes pulling them off slowly so I didn't wake him up. I lift his legs up carefully placing them on the couch as well. He stirred a bit, muttering something I couldn't quite make out. I dug a spare blanket out of my closet and fan it out over him. I collect our cups, dumping the remaining liquid in the sink and replacing it with a glass of water. His shoes had joined mine beside the door, finishing off the row quite nicely. I turned the overhead light off, turning in the light over the stove on instead in case he woke up while it was still dark out. Satisfied I went to bed myself, only pausing to place a quick kiss on top of his head and whispering a soft goodnight. When I had woken up part of me expected to see an empty couch. I was surprised when he was still sleeping peacefully, though half of the water I had left was gone so I knew he was up at some point and chose to remain here. When I came back from my run I saw one of his bright green sock covered feet sticking out over the armrest, the other was dangling off couch with his toes almost touching the floor. His face was buried in the cushions in an attempt to block the light that was streaming in. One arm was trapped under his face, the knuckles of his other hand resting on the floor. I could hear him snoring, mostly muffled by the couch. He didn't wake up until a little after ten. I was seated at my desk playing around on my computer, Everybody Loves Raymond was on the tv, mostly just for background noise, when I heard him stir. "Whatimesit?"  He slurred, stifling a yawn. His hair standing in every direction imaginable as he blearily stared over the armrest at me, eyes blinking slowly in attempts to clear his vision. His hands coming up to rub the sleep that had gathered in his eyes. "A bit after ten. " He sat up, brushing the blanket aside before reaching for his glasses. "Thanks for the blanket. And the water. And for taking my glasses and shoes off...and for taking care of me. I ‘preciate it." He finished off what bit of water was left in the glass staring down at it with a vacant expression. Finally he drug his eyes up from the table and over to me. He took a deep breath "Look, about last night..." Straight to it then, okay. "Stop. You don't have to apologise again. You've done it enough." "I just want you to know, I'm not that guy." His eyes were almost looked like they were pleading with me. Begging me to believe him. If I hadn't before that look would have done it for me. "I know. Look, it's okay. I don't think badly of you. It's not that I didn't want it...it's just...I want to do it...right I guess. I'm just tired of the quick drunken flings. It's been awhile since I've had it happen organically..." I could feel my cheeks growing warm as I trailed off. There was a little smile that played across his features. A weak ray of light peeking out from behind storm clouds. "Looks like we're on the same page then. We'll wait until it feels right, no need to rush into it." He looked significantly more cheerful than he did a moment ago. His mouth and nose scrunched up pulling to the left side of his face. "I'm starving. Wanna go get some brunch?" Talk about a quick bounce back. Or was it? Part of me had a feeling it was still eating away at him and he just didn't want me to know.  Rather than a call him out on it, I left it alone. I forgave him. It's up to him whether or not he forgives himself. "Sure, let me just change real quick and we'll go." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ We had started seeing each other more after that night. I got a text Monday that read 'I've picked us up something fun. Can I bring it over later tonight?' I readily agreed, curious about what it could be. When I opened the door to see him carrying two large boxes of Legos a huge smile radiating on his face. "I wasn't sure what type of kit to get so I decided to just get the classic ones and we could build whatever we wanted." We had spent at least two evenings a week building increasingly ridiculous things, very, very badly. Soon it became a game of trying to guess what the other was attempting to make. We sat with our backs to each other as we worked on our creations. I could picture him studying his blocks carefully, looking for the perfect piece. His hair mussed up from his hands absentmindedly running through it as he pondered his next project. His intense stare and he critiqued it. His tongue poking out as he pushed his pieces together. The satisfied smirk when he was done.   "Is it a moldy potato?" "What? A moldy- a moldy potato? No it's-it's a car." "Well your 'car' has no wheels." "No, it does, see that's what these dark spots here are. This is the windscreen here and these are the windows." "...I see a moldy potato. I thought you said you were good at this." "I am...when there's instructions." While we both thoroughly enjoyed our lazy nights in we found ourselves at Uni's every Friday to drink, watch people perform and shoot pool. We had fallen into a comfortable routine. Most of the regulars had figured out who Ed was but like Levi had said, nobody really cared. When any newcomer spotted him and asked who he was, they would say 'That's just Todd, he works at Chipotle.'  Nobody wanted to talk to Chipotle Todd. Levi was the one who actually came up with it one night as we were shooting pool. Winner played me. They were both fiercely competitive so both of them took it seriously, swear profusely when they'd scratch or miss their shot. After one particularly vulgar stream came out of Ed's mouth one of the patrons turned around and looked him up and down, asking if he was 'that one with the love songs.' Levi had snagged Ed up with one of his arms, laughing as he messed up Ed's hair. "Nah man, this is my buddy Todd. Probably just looks familiar to ya 'cause he works down at Chipotle down on Court." He glanced over at Ed who was quick to react. "I wish I was that guy, man.That shit would be lit." Ed had used his American accent in an attempt to further sell the story. Both me and Levi were struggling to keep a straight face. The guy either bought it or had enough sense in him to realise he didn't want to be recognised. Since the guy seemed to have a hard time forming coherent words, I was betting on the first one. When the guy had turned back to the bar, they had positioned themselves back at the table and returned to their game. "Todd that works at Chipotle huh?" Ed asked normally, wearing an amused expression as Levi searched for his angle. "Yep. If they do go they'll see Todd, a ginger that bears enough of a resemblance to you, thanks to the lighting, that they won't question it too much." "Thanks man, I appreciate it." Levi took his shot and straightened up. "No problem. Just take care of my girl Adi here. She deserves it." I could hear the bitterness in his voice at the last statement and it caught me by surprise. "I plan on it, mate. You don't have to worry." Levi stuck his hand out across the table towards Ed. "The greatest harm can come from good intentions. Just remember that." Ed nodded, shaking the offered hand, leaving me wondering if it was some sort of bro thing I wasn't aware of. After that everything had returned to normal and we were all laughing in no time. By the end of the night both were fairly drunk. I had started taking pictures of them, ushering both of them over. I took a group selfie, Ed's lips on my cheek with Levi rolling his eyes. The second one had Ed reaching around me grabbing Levi's face and kissing him on the cheek while Levi looked bewildered. It was almost like old times. It was also at Uni's that I called him Teddy for the first time, two weeks after our pasta date. I was getting ready to order our drinks when I realised he hadn't told me what he wanted to drink. I step away from the bar and found him with the group that was performing tonight. "Hey, whadid you want to drink?" He was talking with one of the live performers about preferred string types and hadn't heard my question. So I tried to get his attention again. "Hey, Teddy?" His head whipped around. "Yeah?" "Drink?" "A pint's fine, love." His eyes sparkling, bringing to mind a sun kissed sea, his smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. Pure joy seemed to pour from him, like he was the living embodiment of the sun. He grabbed my arm before I walked off "The Jackie-O's one, oh shit what was it called..." "Wood Ya Honey." "Would I what?" he asked his brows coming together in confusion, his head tilting slightly to the side. Like always, it never fails to bring a smile to my face. "No, that's the name of it." I laugh, "It's called Wood Ya Honey." When I brought it back to him he was wrapping up his conversation. He gingerly took the beer out of hands careful not to spill any out of the glass, quickly sipping a bit off the top.  I had started to make my way to "our" table but Ed had motioned to the door that led to the roof. Usually he loved to watch, his eyes closed as he listened closely, head moving to the beat. I could tell he was analyzing what he was hearing, picking up subtle nuances most people overlooked.Shrugging I followed him out the door and onto the roof.  He picked the table closest to the corner of the roof, choosing to sit on the top of it instead of the bench. "That's the first time you've called me Teddy." He shot a sidelong glance at me, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk before taking a sip of his drink. "I was starting to think you were just never going to use it." I stared blankly at him. I hadn't even realised it. "You said only people close to you called you that. I didn't think we we're really close enough so it felt wrong to use it." I took a sip of my own beer. "But you do now?" He asked softly "I guess? It just came out, I really didn't think about it."  I paused for a moment "Teddy." I say again, letting it fall from my lips, smiling at how easily it came of my tongue. Not awkward in the slightest. I had tried before but my mouth refused. "Well, I'm fucking thrilled. Especially now that I know you held back because you were waiting for it to have meaning. " We stayed out there a majority of the night. The door was cracked open so we could hear the music no problem as we laid together on the table. There was something idyllic about laying under the stars listening to the acapella sounding group. Most of the people that saw us left of alone, a few shot joking remarks about how the beer was stronger than we thought or how we needed to get a room. After the show ended we untangled ourselves from each other and headed back to my apartment. I had been waiting on the sidewalk for Ed to settle the tab (something he refused to let me pay for) swaying to My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark that was blasting out of someone's car stereo. I felt Ed's arm slip around my waist, placing a kiss to my cheek before making the walk to my apartment. Usually he walked me to the building door, gave me a kiss and headed back to his suite. After cuddling with him for most of the night I wasn't ready to stop just yet. When we had broke away I nodded toward the door. "You wanna stay here tonight?"  We hadn't talked about any sort of overnight accommodations. Which seemed silly since I'd stayed over after our first date. "If you'll let me." The elevator ride was a quick one and soon we were both getting ready for bed. I had switched into a baggy shirt that featured an extremely faded Bartman skateboarding on it. I found it extremely appropriate. He leaned against the bathroom door as I brushed my teeth. "You wouldn't happen to have a toothbrush you wouldn't mind me using would you?” I reach up in my medicine cabinet, my toothbrush sticking out the side of my mouth as I dug for my spare one. "Yew can haf dat one. Izza spare." taking care to not spray him with foam as I handed it over. After all teeth were brushed he looked at me a bit apologetically. "I don't have any pajamas...is it okay that I sleep in just my boxers?" I shrug "As long as you don't mind just the shirt for me." "Of course not." He threw a bewildered look my way. "It's not like you've been parading around here in just a shirt and knickers this entire time." He was already lounging in bed, his pants somewhere  on the floor at the foot of the bed. He tugged his shirt over his head and my mouth fell open. He was completely covered in tattoos. The swirling cacophony of bright colors that was splashed across his torso and stomach reminded me of a child melting crayons on a canvas. "Holy fucking shit, you're beautiful!" I practically flew to his side, my fingers automatically brushing along the lion's mane, feeling the fuzzy chest hair that appeared non existent. It's like one of those touch and feel books. I heard him chuckle lightly. "You thought they stopped at my shoulders didn't ya?" "I knew you had something tattooed on your chest, I didn't know you were this...you're a work of art Teddy. A gorgeous work of art." My mouth still open slightly as my fingers traced over outlines. "Oh, come off it..." He muttered failing to keep a smile from coming across his face. There was a pink hue that had came across his face. He reached around me to turn my lamp off. "Sleep, sweet girl. You'll have plenty of time admire them." I huffed and tugged the blanket up to my chin. His arms snaked around me, pulling me closer to him. My room was faintly lit by the street lamps so I could dimly make out his facial features. I wiggled closer, our faces almost touching. I could smell the minty toothpaste still lingering on his breath. After a minute or two I shuffled a little lower, trying to find the optimal snuggling position. Once I finished shuffling around he placed a kiss on my forehead.   "You find a place you like that's comfortable?" "Mmm" I murmured sleepily. I hadn't noticed before but he smelled faintly of cinnamon and something familiar that I couldn't place but I found it comforting. It wasn't much later I that I had fallen asleep. I woke up to find that I had rolled over in my sleep but Ed's arms had found their way around me again. My bottom was resting against him and that's when I felt him. I smirk as I press my butt against him a little firmer, wiggling it a bit, biting down on my bottom lip when I hear him moan, his body reacting to mine. I keep doing it until he finally mutters. "If you keep doing that, we're going to have a big problem." I roll over to face him. His eyes were still closed but a faint smile was on his lips. Those gorgeous strawberry lips that practically begged to be kissed. My lips were against his in no time, his hands pulling me closer. I pressed myself against him and could feel how aroused he was. When we finally break away, his face his flushed, eyes gleaming. "Well good morning to you." His voice breathy and slightly dazed sounding. "Morning." I let my fingers drag down his torso, lingering over the waistband of his boxers. "But it could be better, if you'd like." His eyes widened a bit when his sleepy brain worked out what I meant. "Oh? Oh. I'd like that very much." I slid my hand under his waistband, letting my fingers glide down his shaft. He wasn't kidding about big Jesus fuck... I heard a sharp intake when I wrapped my fingers around him and began gently stroking him. The moans that came from him were absolutely sinful. When they had started to grow a bit louder I withdrew my hand. He took the opportunity to seize control of the situation by gently guiding me to my back,  his mouth working against mine. His fingers came down to the top of my panties. "Can I?" His request was a quiet one, in a husky sounding tone. "Yeah, take em." I breathe. He slid them off with ease, I kicked them the rest of the way off, not caring where they went after they were off my body. His fingers traveling down, running the length of my slit before sliding his middle finger inside my opening. I moan as he began to curl it inwards, rubbing my inner wall. He slid his ring finger in next causing me to moan louder. He pulled them out, putting them in his mouth. "Let me taste you?" It almost sounded like a beg. "Mouth, fingers, cock, I'm yours." I pull my shirt off, suddenly growing extremely warm. "Talk about a work of art, fuck, look at yourself!" His fingers coming up to my nipple, rolling it around causing me squirm. He leaned forward, his mouth just hovering over it, his hot breath making me feel...things.  He let his tongue flick across it a couple times before covering it with his mouth. His tongue massaging it as he sucked. He had been teasing the other one with his fingers. He shifted his focus to the other one, his mouth coming around it, sucking without teasing it with the tongue. Once he was satisfied, he shifted down my body until his mouth was over my exposed core. He pressed his tongue flat against me, running it slowly upwards causing me to shiver and hum. It wasn't long before I realised he knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue was flicking across, then slow circles, then he was just adding pressure. When he added his fingers I groaned loudly. I could feel the smile come across his face as he worked. "That's my good girl. Let go for me." I had expected it to be slightly uncomfortable due to his scruff but I was surprised, it only amplified the sensation. He was quick to pick up how my body reacted and would adjust himself accordingly. Soon, my hands were gripping onto his fiery locks moaning his name as I rocked my hips, the heat beginning to build, my body starting to tremble. Watching him suck and lick at me was infinitely hotter than I could have imagined. The way he looked up at me from under those long eyelashes was almost enough to make me lose it. "Will you come for me baby? Please?" Any bit of willpower I had was shattered with that one question. His mouth was quickly back on me as soon as my grip on him tightened, my walls fluttering around his fingers as the wave of heat had made its way through my body. I had collapsed back, breathing heavily as I rode out the aftershocks. It had be a long time since I came from oral stimulation, I wasn't sure if I was even going to but his voice wrecked me. He kissed his way up my torso, back to my lips. My hands once again in that disheveled mess of cinnamon colored curls. "Let me feel you around my cock. I want you Adi, I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Please baby, will you let me?"  His fingers brushing a few stray hairs that had stuck to my damp forehead. "I don't want you, I need you Teddy. Yes. Fuck me." He rolled off to the empty side of the bed, tugging his boxers off, his cock springing up to his stomach as he tossed them somewhere on my floor. My eyes falling on the sight of him, the way it stood out against his bright skin. I was digging around in my nightstand feeling around for the tell tale foil wrapper of the condoms I knew I had in there. My fingers finally finding it. I hand it over to him, noticing how much his hands were shaking as he fought with the wrapper, finally managing to rip it open. After he slid it over himself he was back between my legs. "Don't worry, I'll go slow so I won't hurt you. Just tell if it starts to, okay?" I nod, watching him  running  himself across me a few times, my body shuddering at the feel of it. He pressed himself against my opening. "Ready?" I nod again and he eases his head inside stopping as soon as the ridge is inside a moan tumbling out of his mouth. There was a slight tugging burning feeling going on as I adjusted to the large intrusion. I could tell he wanted to sink in more but was waiting for my go ahead, which he got. Slowly he sank farther in, the burning feeling persisting but never grew past an annoyance. "Fucking hell, you're tight. Are you okay?" "I'm good Teddy. Fuck me, please." He began thrusting slowly and soon the burn had left completely. His hands were curled around mine, his mouth on my neck as he thrusted into me. He maintained the slow speed for a bit, savoring the feeling. "Oh, Fuck, you feel amazing wrapped around me." He marveled, a bit of strain in his voice. He continued to take his time, our bodies falling into a steady rhythm. His mouth had found the sensitive spot on my neck and had upgraded to kneading it with his teeth. I was enjoying the feeling taking our time. Not rushing to finish. Not wishing it was done and over with. I enjoyed the initmancy of it. This is what I was craving. Soon I need more of him. "Harder. Faster. Teddy. Please." I moan out, playfully biting his ear. He complied, his hips thrusting faster, crashing against my inner wall. He had raised his head up, his fingers still locked around mine.  I swing my legs up around his waist, digging my heels into his lower back, urging him along. "Oh yes, fucking yes, fuck me hard Teddy!" "Christ Adi, your mouth is filthy. It's fucking sexy to hear such vulgar things from that exquisite mouth of yours." The sound of skin hitting skin was quickly drowned out by our moans. Mine had quickly transformed into cries, his moving to random swearing and words strung together. My grip on his hands tightened as I felt the warmth rise for a second time. When it hit, it wasn't in a wave. This felt like lightening crackling through my body. My vision faded for a moment as I clamped down hard on his cock causing a strangled fuck to come from him. He sped up as I was riding out my orgasm, he chasing his own, finding it at the end of mine. He sagged against me, placing kisses on any open skin he could find. I could feel his heart beating frantically, pounding against my own. Both of our breaths coming out in ragged bursts. "Holy. Shit. That was..." "Yeah, yeah it was." "You okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" He lifted his head to search my face for anything resembling pain, but only find a dazed dreamy smile instead. "No, no you were great, I'd give you a standing O but I'm afraid I'm unable to stand at this point in time." My legs may be shaky, but my wit wasn't. "You gave me a lying Oh Teddy. That's more than enough in my book." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We spent a majority of the day in bed. After we had redressed. Shirts, because from here on out my room was declared a no pants zone. I could feel some soreness starting to settle in, knowing that it was going to be worse tomorrow. I ordered a pizza and we laid there watching some sort of cooking show where absolutely none of them knew how to cook. We started  watching with the attitude of we'll watch until we figure out what this is and soon got so wrapped up in it, we couldn't turn it away. It made both of us feel better about our cooking skills so at least we gained something from it.  Which means it wasn't a total waste of a day. Not that I considered a day spent with him a waste because I knew some time in the future he was going to return to music and he'd be gone. I wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. I wanted to live in the fantasy for just a bit longer. He spent Saturday night with me as well and even joined me on my Sunday trip to the market. As I shopped for my usual items I noticed him milling down the aisle putting stuff in the cart. Bagels, oatmeal packets, muffins, eggos, toaster strudels, pancake mix. "Whaddya adding?" "BREAKFAST FOODS COS IT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY." He sang out as he tossed what looked like sausage links in. He pointed to the pancake and eggs, "For weekends and mornings I'm around to make it for you." He points to the bagels, oatmeal, muffins, eggos and toaster strudels. "For when I'm not there. You can even take these with you to make at work." "Teddy..." I could barely find my voice. For mornings I'm here to make it for you... "Shh...just accept the eggos."  He tapped my nose with a wink, giving me my favorite crooked grin. After the market, where he insisted on paying for everything and me doling out the empty threat of never letting him go shopping with me again, He helped me put everything away. Once that was done and I began to start sorting my laundry  he headed back to his suite to do his own laundry that he had pushed off until the last minute. By the way he talked he was out of almost everything. I gave him a kiss before he headed out the door. I could smell a hint of cinnamon in my sheets when I climbed into bed. I buried my face in his pillow taking a deep breath. I fell asleep holding onto it. I snagged a muffin on the way out the door because the morning text I got read "Are ya lustin for a muffin? If you're not you don't know nuffin x" and I couldn't not eat one after he put so much effort in horrible wordplay. I responded with 'Damn you and your words.'  By the time I got to work he had responded 'Award winning artist here, y'know and it REALLY shows' I went about my day and by the time lunch had came around I was surprised that I hadn't heard back from him get. I checked to make sure I had sent the message and sure enough 'Do I want to know how long you sat on that?' I brushed it off, figuring he was off running some sort of errands. When I hadn't heard from him by the end of the day I began to worry. He always texted to see how my day was. I pull his number up, pushing the little green phone. After a few rings I get "Hey it's Ed, if you're getting this I probably lost my phone. Again. Send me an email if it's urgent." I hang up, deciding against leaving a message. He'll call when he see it. I shower and head to bed. My worry grew when I hadn't heard from him a second day and by the third day of getting no response and his phone going directly to voicemail, I had tapped out my worry meter. After work I headed straight to his suite, knocking on his door. There was a loud clanking noise like something had been knocked over and the door swung open.  The smell of alcohol, weed  and sweat had hit my nostrils hard. I saw that his suite was an absolute wreck, bottle scattered everywhere, take out boxes and half eaten food scattered about. Torn up papers littered his floor like sad confetti. Then my eyes fell on him. His hair was a matted mess, his skin paler than normal coated in a sheen of sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark circles. His shirt was a dingy white and his pajama bottoms were fairly wrinkled. It was clear he hadn't changed or showered in days. "Yeah?"  He sounded aggravated and his face matched the tone. "I hadn't heard from you in a couple days..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. He was an utter mess. What the hell had happened... "So to you that mean come on over?"  He asked coldly. His tone had definitely caught me off guard but I was quick to recover with a bit of an attitude of my own. "When you fucking dissapear for three fucking days yeah, it does." I shoot back at him. "What the hell happened?" He let out a cruel laugh, his head falling back, shaking his head at the ceiling. "You want to know? I found out the truth that's what!" His head snapped back down, his dark eyes locking on to my own. His features twisted in a sneer. "You're a fucking reporter!" He spat at me, anger flashing in those eyes. Storm cloud grey. The darkest I had ever seen them. "Wait Ed--" "Don't-Don't you fucking dare!" He roared, his finger coming up jabbing in my direction causing me to flinch and take a step back. "I called your work! I got the number from your phone because I was gonna surprise you by picking you up for lunch and what do I fucking get? A number for a fucking magazine!" He shook his head, his hands coming up to his head, causing me to flinch again. His head fell forward. "I should have know it was too fucking good to be true! Pretending like you don't know shit about me just to get close to me. The way everyone kept asking you if you got your promotion yet and how you were so vague about what you do. Jesus fucking Christ I'm a fucking idiot." His head came back up again, this time the spark of fury was gone, replaced with hopelessness.  "Was I nothing but a story to you? Was you just going to use me and toss me aside like she did? Was I gonna be your be break? A big scandalous exposé? What, Something like The Flame Burns Out: Ed Sheeran's Descent into Addiction and Alcoholism?!" His voice broke and I saw a steady stream of tears falling "I thought this was real Adi. I thought you really cared about me...how could you lie to me like that? How could you do this to me?" He sobbed, his body shaking fiercely. "Ed, l--" I saw the spark reignite in his eyes as the tears still poured out. "No! Enough! Enough of the lies! Enough of the bullshit! I can't-I can't Adi." The sobs taking over again. "I can't take it. I can't take it. I can't take it. Is this what you wanted to write? Congratulations, you fucking got it. I hope it was fucking worth it." The sound of the door slamming closed echoed in my ears. 

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A/N 

You can thank @bestiejessie for this because I bounced two scenarios off of them and chose the one with the best reaction. They also have a bunch different things to hit me with. 

#ed sheeran #teddy sheeran #code ginger #ed sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran mature fanfic #ed sheeran smut