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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Trust In Me ~ PJM [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

PAIRING: Jimin x reader

GENRE: established-relationship, angst, fluffy ending, mentions of family and being raised by grandparents instead of mother

As you walked down the staircase of your house you placed earrings into your ears, calling out for Jimin to come out.

"Jimin, we're going to be late if we don't leave right now." You cried out as you walked into the living room to find him standing there in his practice clothes. Frowning at him you looked him up at down, today was supposed to be the day he had managed to get off work.

"I thought you got the day off," You whined slipping your shoes on as you looked at him. Jimin felt his stomach begin to churn as he looked at you and lied. Right to your face.

"I got called in again."

"But it's my Grandmothers 90th birthday...We were going to the meal." You reminded him, he had promised you weeks ago that he had gotten the day off and was going to be there.

"I got busy Y/n, I'm sorry." he walked towards you but you ignored his attempt at a hug. All it seemed as of late was that he was busy. Hardly home, always out until late hours of the morning and when he was home he was acting odd. Jittery whenever you asked him how his day had been, on edge whenever you told him that you were going to clean up the house. It felt as though he was hiding something. But you and Jimin had been together for almost 6 years, there was no way he would do something stupid.

That you knew of.

"I know baby, I'll make it up to you," He promised as he attempted to reach for you but you moved away from him. Grabbing your bag and looking around for your car keys.

"You've been saying that for weeks Jimin" You knew you were probably overreacting. You knew what his lifestyle was like. You had been living it for the last six years but that didn't make it easier.

"I'll make sure Seojun is following you." He told you as he looked outside. The world knew about your relationship which meant you travelled almost everywhere with a personal guard. Seojun was there to make sure you weren't trampled by paparazzi or Sassengs in the street. There wasn't anyone out there right now but he knew it wouldn't be long until someone was around.

"Thanks." You mumbled turning to leave when he took your hand in his, pulling you closer to him so that you were chest to chest with one another.

"You can't forget this." He placed a gift bag into your hand. The present you had gotten for Grandmas birthday. Something that the two of you had been planning on giving her for almost nine months.

"This is from both of us. I can't give it to her without you." You looked into the bag at the wrapped-up box and Jimin sighed.

"She'll know I'm sorry." Without a word to him, you walked out of the house with the bag. Climbing into the car more pissed off than ever that Jimin would leave you to go to a function like this alone.

Jimin stood watching you leave and biting down on his lip. It was never his intention to hurt you but this was something he had to do in secrecy. Grabbing his phone scrolling through until he found the name, "Seojun 2" and pressed the call.

"Can you meet me at the house?" He questioned as soon as the other line picked up.

"Sure. Shall I order pizza for when we're done?" An excited female voice asked as she got happy to hear Jimin calling her so early in the morning.

"Of course how could I ever say no when you get so excited like this?" He chuckled grabbing his bag and keys before heading out to his own car. Throwing a bag into the boot before climbing into the front seat,

"Make sure you bring protection this time, I'm not having a repeat of last time. We got in such a mess!" She grumbled at him as she began to think back on all of their times together.

"It wasn't my fault we were in the mess." Jimin scoffed as he began to start up the car and put his phone onto the stand,

"I think you'll find that it was your fault. You're so messy," She complained,

"I never hear you complain until the next time we see each other. I'll see you soon. Make sure you're ready, I want to start right away." He laughed before getting ready to end the phone call,

"So eager Mr Park."

"Only for you." He teased playfully. Hanging up and beginning his slow drive.

"Happy birthday Grandma," You whispered as you walked into the small restaurant your family was hosting in. A small family-run restaurant that had been in the mall for almost 12 years. Your whole family had been going there for years, your grandmother insisting that it was the only restaurant she would ever eat inside of.

"Thank you, dear," She looked behind you and you knew what she was looking for. Grandma happened to be Jimin's number one fan.

"He couldn't make it." You whispered as you put the gift bag down onto the table of other gifts and looked back at Granny who seemed to be upset.

"Why?"

"Because he had other things to do." You shrugged it off giving her a quick peck on the cheek before going to find you both a drink.

The truth was you had no idea where Jimin was. It seemed that he was always busy lately and it was beginning to bother you. You had no idea what he was so busy with. There was no comeback coming up and they weren't filming any dancing videos for their channel.

"Your grandfather used to get like that whenever he was hiding something." Your mother's voice sounded from beside you. Anger boiled up inside of you as soon as she felt the need to insert herself in your business when she was never really much of a mother anyway. Not to you at least.

"He isn't hiding anything." You hissed at your mother. She'd never liked you and Jimin together. She never liked you with anybody now that you came to think about it.

"All I'm saying is, he's a very handsome young man. He could have anybody he wanted." She smirked at you, you knew what she was thinking. The moment you had bought him to meet your grandmother your mother had begun flirting with Jimin. Doing anything she could to get his eyes on her.

"Thanks, mum." You grumbled sarcastically before walking away to go and join your grandmother who was opening her gifts. Your brother begging to go first as she picked up an envelope.

"That one's from me!" Your brother yelled excited as your grandmother began to tear it open, frowning and staring over at him as she slowly pulled out what was inside.

"Retirement home flyers?!" You cried out looking from the flyers and back to him as he nodded his head clearly proud at what he had gotten her.

"Granny needs somewhere she can live," Granny wasted no time in rolling the papers up and smacking him with them playfully until he pulled out a small box.

"This is your real one," He whined as he gave her the box. She pulled it open,

"It's Granddads old medals. I had them polished and cleaned." She began to tear up before hugging him tightly. Practically making his eyes pop out from his head as she thanked him over and over again.

"Mine next," You whispered pushing the box towards her. Something you had been keeping quiet for months, scared in case she hated it.

"It's from me and Jimin,"

"Who isn't here," Your mother laughed before your brother jabbed her in the side.

"Shut up and sit down. I don't see you with a date either." Grandma shut her up, taking the box from you carefully and smiling up at you.

Pulling the box open she began to tear up once again, tears beginning to roll down her face as she saw the snowglobe sitting there.

"A snowglobe for your collection," You smiled as you picked it up to show her that there was a small model of her old home. The one you had spent most of your life growing up inside of.

"Y/n how did you do this?" Your brother gasped as he moved closer to get a better look at the house. It was almost an exact replica, all it was missing was the porch swings.

"I found someone online who can make custom globes, Jimin and I went to the old house we got pictures." You explained as you shook the snowglobe for your grandmother.

"It's still standing?" She gasped looking up at you with widened eyes.

"Barely. It was practically withering away while we were there but the artist managed to capture everything it used to look like." You smiled remembering the day you took Jimin. It was almost 9 months ago, the two of you went for a road trip to go and find it, You'd almost cried seeing it so dishevelled and abandoned. The inside was terrible with broken glass on the floor, burnt flooring. The inside joinery was exposed and all of the wiring and copper had been stolen. You and Jimin had sat together for a few hours talking about how much the place meant to you and how much you wished you could have saved it.

"This is amazing, thank you." She left a giant kiss on your cheek and you smiled as she began shaking it and showing it off to anyone that was looking at her. Like a child on Christmas.

"I'm glad you like it, I'll text Jimin." You smiled before going to go and find a drink which you had intended to do before.

Sitting by the window you looked out at the people that were doing their shopping. The party seemed to be dragging by slowly since Jimin wasn't with you to help lighten the mood up a little.

"You're daydreaming." Grandma laughed as she fed you some more mozzarella sticks. Practically piling your plate higher each time. She claimed that you never ate enough when she was around and would always give you more food than you could possibly ever handle.

"Sorry, are you enjoying your birthday?" You questioned as you looked at her, she nodded her head. The whole family seemed to have spoiled her, which she truly deserved for everything she had done in her lifetime.

"It's been fun besides your mother, I swear she thinks I'm suddenly going to drop down dead." Your mother had been questioning her about the will all day. It came as no surprise that she only came around sniffing for money.

"Nope, you're going to live until 190," You teased as she shook her head at you. Taking your hands in hers and squeezing them softly making you look at her as she took on a serious look.

"You were always my favourite." You shook your head and scoffed at her,

"Granny..." You said slowly hoping that no one around you was listening to the conversation.

"I'm serious...When I do go everything will be going to you Including the silver. Make sure you hide that from your auntie Gina." She grumbled looking over at Gina who was eyeing up some of the gifts at the table. She was always sly about it but things magically disappeared whenever she was around.

"What about mum?"

"What about her? She gets nothing." You sighed before looking back out of the window. Your grandmother had practically raised you in that old house while your mother did nothing but party and not come home until 4 am only to sleep until 4 pm and start all over again.

"What about my brother-" You stopped yourself from speaking when you caught a glimpse of someone in the distance. It looked like Jimin.

"He gets to have Grandpas stuff, he always loved to look at it." You nodded as you continued to look over at the couple walking around together. Arms linked and ice cream in their hands. It couldn't have been Jimin.

Could it?

"I'm going to get some air," You whispered as you excused yourself from the restaurant and headed out of the door. Keeping your head down just in case it was Jimin.

"What are we doing?" Seojun asked as he finished off the slice of cake he was chewing. The family had been feeding him mass amounts of food since he had been standing by the door for most of the duration of the party.

"Going to see if that's Jimin," You whispered looking up at him as you pointed over near a shop. It was like his whole demeanour changed as he stared over in the direction you had pointed in.

"Seojun?" You questioned when you noticed how weird he seemed to be.

"It's not him." He mumbled,

"You barely even looked."

"It's not him." He told you again as he tried to usher you back to the restaurant but you got out of his grasp.

"I'll go over there myself and see-" You didn't need to go over yourself, the girl began laughing loudly and you turned to look. Jimin was standing there, the small tattoo on his left wrist a giveaway that it was him. The date of your anniversary was tattooed there.

"Y/n! We have more cake!" Your grandmother yelled from the door but you felt too sick to move. Everything was still going over in your head. Did you confront him now or later?

"You should do this later Miss Y/l/n, you don't want to ruin the party," Seojun whispered as he began to pull you into the house. Frantically texting Jimin to alert him that you had seen him out with another woman. The other woman he had been hiding from you.

When Jimin walked through the door that night he expected you to be asleep. That maybe you had calmed down from everything you had seen earlier but he couldn't have been more wrong. You were sitting and waiting for him surrounded by cups of coffee. It was clear you had decided to wait up for a long time for him.

"Where have you been? And don't lie to me because I asked the boys." He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe there was a chance that he could get away with all of this.

"I was out with a friend,"

"A girl?" You questioned. Not angry that he was with someone else but angry that he felt the need to lie to you about it.

"Yes. She's just a friend." You got up and walked over to the cupboard. Pulling out an overnight bag and throwing it down onto the floor. If she was a friend then why did he have clothes packed up in a bag, looking as though he was planning to leave you?

"A friend you sleepover with at an undisclosed location?" You pulled the bag to show him everything that you had found inside of the bag.

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like." He stuttered out as you began to show him everything that was in the bag.

"So you just have spare underwear and clothes packed up for nothing?"

"It's not what you think it is, she's just a friend." He assured you trying to reach out to touch you but you backed away from him.

"If lies keep spewing from those lips then I am walking out of that door." You said coldly before kicking the bag towards him. Jimin sighed looking down at the bag and then up at you. It was time for him to come clean with you but there was no way you were going to believe him unless he showed you.

"Let me prove it...Let me show you where I've been doing, what I've been doing." You looked at him before nodding.

A quiet and agonizingly slow car ride later and you were standing at the house. The house you had grown up in.

"What are we doing here?" You questioned looking over at the house and then to Jimin who got out. The house was still falling apart except now there seemed to be a giant skip outside with rubbish inside of it.

"Follow me." He whispered not wanting to wake anyone else up on the street. It was almost 3 in the morning no one wanted to be woken up.

Following after him, you frowned as he walked into the house. Although the outside of the house was still falling apart the inside was all-new. The exposed walls were patched up, fresh paint all over the walls. Furniture in the place it had been in when you were younger. New flooring was put down to replace the burnt patches that had been left by squatters.

"I've been doing this...I wanted it to be a surprise for you but you saw me so I had to show you." He told you as he walked further into the house showing that everything was as you remembered it to be. A fireplace was put in place where your Grandmother used to sit and read you bedtime stories.

"I got everything from old images you'd shown me. Your brother gave me old photo albums so I could match everything." You were tearing up as you walked around the house. Everything looked to be exactly the same as your childhood home.

"The second floor isn't finished yet, Sooyoung and I were going to get started on it." The name of the girl he had been with, you turned to look at him.

"Sooyoung?"

"The girl you saw me with. She's Seojun's sister, she's a decorator." Your mouth formed an 'O' as you looked around at everything. Seojun had told you about his sister almost a million times but you'd never seen her before.

"Jimin this is perfect,"

"I wanted you to have everything you wanted...I know how much this place meant to you." Saying nothing you walked into his arms and hugged him tightly, kissing his chest. You couldn't believe you let your head run to the fact that he would cheat on you. Jimin would never hurt you and you knew that.

"I'm sorry I called you a liar."

"I'm sorry I hid it from you...I wanted it to be a surprise." He laughed weakly as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. Kissing the top of your head softly,

"I trust you Jimin. I really do...I was just scared. You'd been so busy and then mum said you could have whoever you wanted." He knew your mum would have something to do with the way you reacted so he shook his head. Promising you that everything was okay.

"I only want you." He whispered leaning down to kiss your lips softly. The start of the rest of your lives was going to happen in a house you had always dreamed of owning.

"This is our place?"

"It will be when we finish on the top floor. We have to way for a contractor to come out for that though." You smiled at him, kissing him once again. You were never going to get tired of kissing his perfect lips.

"Thank you Jimin, this is...This is the best surprise you could have ever given to me," He smiled down at you before bringing you into a real kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeper as you jumped up into his arms.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts imagines #park jimin #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #jimin imagines #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #park jimin imagine #park jimin imagines

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fishyspots · 4 years

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Prompt: Dinner after the 'boyfriends' conversation!

“Okay, okay,” David puts his hand over Patrick’s heart. It’s warm, and so is Patrick, all gooey inside after the declaration he and Stevie teased out of David. His boyfriend. “We really shouldn’t do this here.”

“Kiss? People have seen us kiss here.” Patrick noses along the strong line of David’s jaw to his ear. He hides a smile in his boyfriend’s neck at the sound it elicits from David. David’s shoulder moves, and Patrick whines. He just wants to soak this in. “What are you doing?”

“Waving to Jocelyn,” David says brightly.

“No you’re not.” But Patrick has to leave the warmth of David’s shoulder to check, which he realizes too late was David’s angle. “You’re the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had.” The second he says it, he wants to take it back. It takes a lot for David to take these relationship leaps. Just getting him to leave pajamas in Patrick’s dresser took two weeks.

“Wow.” A second miracle happens to Patrick in the same night when David smiles at him. “This new stage of our relationship is already really welcoming.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I wish I could say the same back,” David says, something tight under the teasing in his voice, “but even with that comment, you’re far from top five worst boyfriends.”

“Wouldn’t they be the bottom five?”

“That’s another whole list, actually,” David says innocently.

It takes a second for Patrick to realize what he walked into, but when he does, he snorts. It's a gross sound, one that Rachel used to screw up her face at and say she loved him in spite of. David smiles wide when he hears it.

At the look in David’s eyes, Patrick wants to ask how long David’s thought of him as his boyfriend. It slipped out so naturally that it can’t have been the first time David put Patrick and the word “boyfriend” together in his head. Patrick can’t even count the number of times he’s wanted to call David his boyfriend, but he’d heard enough from Stevie and David himself to wait for the right moment. To let David lead.

“Can I interest you in taking this conversation to another venue?” David asks. “I feel like if I don’t leave this store in the next hour I never will, and then we’ll have a whole Phantom of the Opera thing going on.”

“Please tell me how you spending any more time in the store will turn you into the Phantom.” Patrick squeezes David’s waist, a move that David has only recently accepted, and lets him up. He immediately misses the weight of David in his lap.

“It’s the candles, okay, and the—you know what? Never mind. Too many stalkery implications.”

“You spend too much time on skincare to ever cover it up with a mask.” Patrick grabs the hand David offers him and stands. Once he’s up, he kisses his boyfriend’s temple. “Ideas for dinner?”

“Well, now I don’t want French food.”

Patrick nods. “That’s good, because I think the cafe would disappoint you if you tried.”

“The cafe disappoints me when I try for most cuisines, but somehow I power through.”

Patrick suddenly wants to do something different. He wants to mark this night down in their shared history with a flourish, the same way he does for their monthly anniversaries. He wants it to be special. “Did you want to go somewhere else?” He asks. “It’s still early. We could make it to that Italian place in Elm Grove.”

David lights up at the thought of carbonara, just like Patrick knew he would. His boyfriend loves pasta, and Patrick loves the way he gets about it, precise and particular like he always is. “That’s pretty far to go for a weeknight."

“I just want to show my boyfriend a good time.” Patrick soaks in the feeling of speaking without a filter, of calling David what he’s been calling him in his head. He ushers David out of the store and locks the door behind them.

David closes his eyes and smiles. Patrick just watches. “You might not want to let your boyfriend get used to food that’s more than moderately edible,” he finally says. He winks at Patrick. “He might never settle for the cafe again.”

Patrick isn’t sure how much further he can push this. “I don’t know if you’ve met my boyfriend,” he says slowly, “but I think he has a secret soft spot for zhampagne and mozzarella sticks with freezer burn.”

“While that might be true, he also has a soft spot for pasta. Shall we go?”

Patrick’s stomach flips when David opens the car door for him when they get to the restaurant. “Thank you,” he manages.

“Thank you,” David replies. “I can’t imagine how expensive it would be for me to light enough candles to really lean into my Phantom lifestyle.”

Patrick’s going to have "All I Ask of You" stuck in his head all week at this rate.

They’re seated right away, and David orders another glass of wine. Patrick does the same, following David’s lead. He thinks he’s going to like where they end up.

“Would the candles be a business expense, do you think?” David asks.

“I cannot imagine you willingly spending time in a sewer.” Patrick loves his boyfriend, but—fuck. Fuck. Patrick shoves a piece of bread in his mouth to keep the words that he’s now desperate to say in his head.

The urge to tell David he loves him settles in. It might be a while, but he kind of likes the low, sure boil of his feelings. It’s comforting, in a way, to be so settled about how he feels for David. And the urge isn’t pressing, he decides. He takes another bite of bread and watches David’s hands sketch out a story about his mom and a horrifying performance on a cruise ship.

He’ll tell David later. Soon, hopefully. Patrick reaches for David’s hand. They have time.

#thanks MJ!#it is approximately 80 years late but I had so much fun writing it!#bilingual-pansexual-mezzosoprano #prompt fills #writing sprints #my fic #schitt's creek fanfiction #schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek fanfic #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #schitts creek #so much of this is about phantom of the opera and it's 40 percent because i'm listening to it and 60 percent because banter is hard

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baku-no-alt · 4 years

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sriracha sauce | 7

bakugou x reader; in which Bakugou and some other students from UA are doing a work -study abroad in NYC. also Bakugou is nice to you for once

cw: like, so many swears

As soon as your hear the door shut and the lock click, you stand up violently from your chair and clumsily walk to your room in a daze. You shut the door, and run to your bed, jumping on the mess of pillows and blankets, hugging a pillow close to your chest to stop from squealing.

You peek at your bedside table and see your phone there, charging. You grab it and open up the group chat you have with your three best friends in the city.

He asked me out, you text the group.

It takes less than a second before their chat bubbles pop up.

he what now

Baku???????

he’s so hot dude

A grin spreads across your face and you feel a blush creep up your neck. They ask you every question imaginable: when, where, what are you wearing, will you tell me what his arms feel like?

You hear Bakugou come home from work and step into the shower, but you don’t leave your room. You don’t want him to see you until it’s time to leave.

For your date.

You glance in the mirror again, admiring your handiwork. Your makeup was flawless, eyeliner pointed in two sharp wings. You had a black off-shoulder dress on, just long enough to be classy but short enough to be flirty. It fell flatteringly over the curve of your hips and the rump of your ass.

Just as you’re done touching up your lipstick, you hear a knock at your door.

“You ready or what?”

“Yeah!” you call back, sounding almost too eager. You walk to your door and pause with your hand on the doorknob. You lift your hand up to your face and inspect it.

You’re so nervous that you’re shaking.

Why?

It’s just Bakugou.

But still, even if it’s just a date, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a threshold. When you cross over it, things might never be the same.

You take a deep breath and let it out, steadying yourself. Then you open the door.

Oh god.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s standing in your doorway, one arm pressed against the door frame, leaning in. He’s close, and you can smell his cologne, masculine and clean. He’s in a red dress shirt and a pair of slacks, and you never knew he could clean up so well.

“Hey,” you breathe out.

His lips creep into a cheeky half-smile. “You don’t look half bad yourself, princess.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you experience this new, flirty side of Bakugou. It was so different. And weird. And you love it.

“Shall we?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“C’mon.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, his signature move, and you follow him out of your apartment.

Sandro’s is so close that you can walk. It takes about ten minutes, and on the way you ask Bakugou about his day at work and he tells you about the monotony of filing incident paperwork.

“I’ll have a sidekick to do it all for me, though.” He looks into the distance, as if looking into the future. He stretches his arms and holds them behind his head for a moment.

“Kind of a dick move to make your sidekick do all of that.” You nudge him with your shoulder.

He releases his arms, and one comes down to drape across your shoulders. His hand is warm, and you think about the all of the power that lies in it. That he could quite literally explode at a moment’s notice.

You mind gets cloudy and for a second you feel a twinge of guilt. Your ex had accused you of being with Bakugou - and he was right. But this wasn’t cheating, you remind yourself. He’s the one who cheated on you.

So why did being with Bakugou feel so natural? How did you go from seeing him as just a roommate to seeing him as romantic partner so quickly? You bite your lip and wonder how long your feelings for Bakugou had been lurking under the surface. Sure, you always knew he was hot, but-

“You coming in or are ya just gonna stand there?”

You snap out of your thoughts and see Bakugou holding the door open for you. You’d made it to Sandro’s.

You laugh nervously and step through the door.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Yeah. Katsuki Bakugou.”

Hearing him say his given name is almost startling. No one calls him Katuski; the closest you had heard was Deku’s nickname for him.

You’re shown to your table for two. He sits across from you and opens the menu.

“You look very in your element,” you comment.

“My parents are designers. I had to go to a bunch of fancy dinners with them.”

You pick up the menu and try to look through the selections but your mind is fuzzy with nerves. You finally settle on some fettuccine bolognese and a buffalo mozzarella appetizer.

After the waiter takes your orders and your menus, you rest your hands on your chin and sigh.

“What?” Bakugou clicks his tongue.

“I’m just having a nice time on this stupid, idiotic date is all.” You give him a sarcastic smile.

“Bet you’re glad I let you win at Smash Brothers now, huh?”

“I still want a do-over. Play me again and I’ll beat you fair and square. I won’t even make you pay for dinner afterwards.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakugou folds his arms and gives you a smug smirk.

“What are you gonna do after this?” You take a more serious tone.

“After dinner?”

“No, after... the work study is over.”

“Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I’ve got some offers for different agencies after graduation. I haven’t decided which one I’ll take.”

You nod. “That’s great, though.”

“What are you gonna do?”

You swallow. “I’ve got a few things lined up in the intelligence field. I don’t know for sure yet either, though.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he says flatly.

“We’re going to have to address it at some point. You’re only here for another three months.”

“We will. Just not tonight.”

You sigh and nod. “Okay.”

The food arrives, and between stuffing your face with pasta and mozzarella, you and Bakugou make small talk about hero work.

“I don’t go on big, dangerous adventures like you,” you mention at one point.

“Why not? It’s the best fucking part.”

“Because I can’t make explosions out of my bodily fluids.”

The couple at the table next to you turns their heads in your direction. You make eye contact with Bakugou and you both stifle a laugh.

“Whatever, we have plenty of useless extras in our hero course and they go on all the dangerous missions, too.”

You laugh. “Yeah, and I bet they get plenty of fighting time in with you and Deku around.”

“Not my fault I’m better than everyone else,” he mumbles.

You smile. “Want to get some dessert?”

“Yeah, I’ll get them to bring us a menu.”

You shake your head. “I know a better place.”

When you finish eating and Bakugou pays (and you thank him a hundred times; the tab was not small), you exit the restaurant and step onto the sidewalk.

“Where to?” he looks at you.

“C’mon. I know the best ice cream place.”

You hold out your hand, and he takes it. His palm feels warm in yours, and you squeeze his hand tightly as you pull him along with you down the street.

---

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@shareyourfandomfaves, @awkward-tamaki, @ha-tep, @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo, @ayeputita, @lookslikeleese, @alinakaisato, @loxbbg, @micheladakenzo, @bnhaismylife, @aurorahoneybuns, @anything-and-everything-here69, @overkill-is-underrated, @sizzlingbarbarianglitter, @squeaky-ducky

if I forgot to tag you please send me a reminder! I am bad at being online.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou fanfiction

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“ANNA'S HELP”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Unusually, Kusanagi is late this day.

"Oh, something like this has happened before."

Anna, sitting on a stool, looked at Kusanagi, who enters the HOMRA bar. He slides in next to Suoh sleeping on the couch, enters the other side of the counter and throws the purchased ingredients into the refrigerator with familiar hands.

"Well, it should be prepared, cleaned, and the sake should be enough. I don't have ice, I'll order it later.”

Anna blinks slowly. Look down at the counter and think for a few seconds. She descends from the stool while deciding and approaches Kusanagi.

"Oh, what's up, Anna? Are you hungry?"

Anna shook her head. Looking directly at Kusanagi,

"I want to help."

Kusanagi opened his eyes for a moment, as if he had imagined it.

You? He ask her, and she affirmed. Seeing Kusanagi busy, she probably had a sense of duty to do something for herself. It was Anna's type of motivation.

"Okay."

So Kusanagi was in trouble. Anna turns ten this year. There aren't many jobs a girl can do. It is outrageous to handle alcohol, and it is dangerous to use a kitchen knife for preparation. Cleaning is too out of reach, so Kusanagi will probably try again later. And what she could do is...

At that moment, Suoh, who was sleeping on the sofa, stood up.

Look around his like a lion waking up with a vague gaze. He watches Kusanagi's eyes and says...

"I'm hungry."

Kusanagi put his hand to his forehead and shook his head.

"Oh, Mikoto, you..."

A 10-year-old girl is offering help, while Suoh, who is the King, does nothing. Still, what he meant was common sense.

Once again, he got to pinch, trying to complain again.

"So, Anna. I'll leave you the most important job at the HOMRA bar.”

He leaned down and looked her in the eyes, Kusanagi said that, feeling nervous.

++++++++++

Materials and tools spread throughout the low table.

Tomato, mozzarella cheese and basil leaves. Salt, pepper and olive oil. Kitchen knife, thin cutting board, various containers and dishes...

Anna was ordered to serve "the hungry king's meal". The dish is called "mozzarella cheese and tomato caprese". It is a simple dish where you just have to cut ingredients and drizzle seasonings.

Then, Kusanagi's opinion on how to let the children handle kitchen knives led Suoh to take over cutting the ingredients.

"Why I?"

Suoh surprisingly divides tomato and cheese with surprising dexterity. It is Anna's job to serve the cut pieces in a platter.

Tomato and cheese. Red and white are well aligned and allows them to get closer. Salt and pepper were crushed into large pieces and drizzled in a mill, and the basil was broken by hand. After that, add a tablespoon of olive oil to finish.

"Yes, please."

"......"

Suoh looks at the offered Caprese with a very subtle expression. Then he wrap the tomatoes and cheese in pieces and bring them to his mouth.

"How's it taste?"

Suoh calmly returns to see her in his red eyes, who look at him anxiously.

"Good."

"......!"

At a glance, Anna's expression flashed. There is a slight smile on her mouth that you won't know unless you look at her.

"Eat more."

"Yes."

"I will do it again if it's not enough."

"Yes."

"Shall I bring sake?"

"I do not need it."

From across the counter, Kusanagi laughed excruciatingly as he watched the conversation. Kusanagi cleans the glass without looking at Suoh.

"Wine is not good for caprese, nor is it good for noble girls. Anna, this time I'll show you a knob that fits around the bourbon, so let's do it together."

"Yes!"

Seeing Anna flirting and Kusanagi laughing, Suoh opened his mouth to say something and finally cut another caprese with his open mouth without saying anything.

#k #k project #k stories #k fan clan #suoh mikoto #kushina anna #kusanagi izumo #homra

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prettypityprincess · 5 years

Text

the problem with cooking (thor x bruce)

request?: nope, this is all me

titled: the problem with cooking (bruce banner x thor odinson)

warnings: salty language, angst that starts off fluffy, but ends nicely!

...

Thor lets out a long, loud groan, “This is delicious, love.” He praises, mouth full of spaghetti.

His husband smiles a bit shyly, “Yeah? Sorry it’s so late, I just didn’t want us to eat takeout again.”

When Bruce walked through the front door, he was entirely flustered and tired from work, but he still managed to make food for the two of them. They’re sitting at the dinner table now, Thor at one head of the table with Bruce across from him in a chair that was custom made to fit his new, large form.

The blonde man nods enthusiastically, eyes wide in agreement as a piece of noodle slips from his mouth, “‘ay ‘etter “han takeot.”

A giggle reaches Bruce’s green lips, reaching to pull a piece of paper towel off before outstretching it to the messy man.

He takes it gratefully, wiping his mouth before clearing his throat and smiling, “Maybe I can cook something for you.”

Bruce blinks slowly, then furrows his eyebrows.

“What?” Thor questions, smile slowly faltering.

“Nothing.” He rushes, shaking the strange look off of his face. “I just don’t think-“

“It’ll be good?”

Bruce rolls his eyes, “Baby, I’m not saying that, you’ve just never done it before. Maybe I can show you how to-“

“Tomorrow night I shall prepare a romantic dinner for the two of us, no assistance needed.” Thor announces proudly, grin back on his face and in full force.

“Okay.” Bruce shrugs his broad shoulders, an amused smile peeking through. “If you’re sure-?”

The worried confirmation is cut off by soft lips being pressed against those of their speaker. When they pull away, Thor is smiling at him. “Trust me, my love.”

…

Times like this are when Thor finds himself extremely grateful for the Internet. As soon as he woke up, he looked up the recipe for mozzarella sticks (Bruce’s favorite bar food) and spent most of the morning shopping for the ingredients.

They’re easy enough to find, and when he gets home, he almost immediately starts cooking. He has everything planned and timed so that when Bruce gets home from teaching, everything will be finished and candles will be lit.

Now, that time is almost here. He lays a piece of the breaded cheese into the pan full of oil, it sizzles and pops immediately. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, as he watches the pan carefully, making sure to poke at it with a fork a few times before he flips it over.

He chuckles to himself, Bruce really thought he couldn’t do this?

Despite the fact that he’s never had to cook for himself or anyone in his life, he’d say he’s doing pretty well.

Look at him, he has the dipping sauce he made chilling inside the fridge, and now he’s making the mozzarella sticks? On his own?

His husband has nothing to worry about, this is evidence that Thor is completely capable of making food and therefore, taking care of himself when Bruce isn’t home.

It’s sad that his skills were ever doubted.

The unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked pulls him out of his good mood, along with shuffling and keys being placed in a bowl. “Thor?” A deep voice calls out from the living room.

“Shit,” The blonde man mumbles, “What are you doing home?” He yells back, wiping his hands on a dish towel. When he’s done, he rushes over and halts Bruce’s attempt to enter the kitchen.

The brown haired man blinks, looking up at his husband with amused eyes and red cheeks from the cold, “Hello to you too.”

“Sorry,” Thor groans, crinkling his nose, “I just, don’t want you to see what I’m making yet. It’s not finished.”

“Don’t be sorry, I gave the kids a break and ended the day early. Should’ve given you a warning.” Bruce bends his neck to kiss his nose, and the wrinkle smoothes away. He smiles, “Whatever it is, smells delicious.”

Thor returns the smile, tilting his head a bit. “You know what else smells delicious?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows shoot to the top of his head, “What?”

His husband doesn’t answer, instead standing on the tips of his toes to kiss the surprised look right off of his face. Their lips move together in a comfortable sync, tongues returning to their place together and making Thor’s skin grow hot.

“I missed you.” Bruce huffs out when they part, foreheads pressed together and voice almost in a whine when he says, “College kids are the worst.”

“Aye,” Thor wraps his arms around his husband’s neck and pulls him closer, “But if anyone can handle them, it’s you.” The man’s body melts into the hug, returning it tightly. The blonde wont ever admit it, but he loves being smaller than his love. At first it took some time to get used too, but eventually he cherished the idea of being Bruce’s little spoon.

Bruce hums, enjoying the feeling of his husband in his arms. Then, after a moment, “Did you turn the heater on?”

Thor shakes his head, “No. It’s probably just warm in here because I’m-” His eyes go wide, “My mozzarella sticks!”

In an instant, he pulls away from the hug and shoots back into the kitchen, only to find the pan containing his mozzarella sticks raging with flames.

“Fuck!”

He picks up the handle and drops it once his hand burns, “Fuck!”

“Oh my god.” Bruce exclaims, entering the kitchen with wide eyes. He runs out, returning a moment later with their dusty fire extinguisher. Thor steps back while his husband hastily shoots white foam over the burning flames.

The two of them breathe heavily, Bruce still holding the red extinguisher while Thor holds his hand containing the burn. “You okay?” Bruce pants, looking over his shoulder.

Thor currently has the biggest frown on his face, looking sad and defeated as he stares at the foam all over his kitchen and his attempted dinner. “My mozzarella sticks.”

Bruce sighs, “It’s okay, we can just order some-“

“No.” Thor leans against the fridge as he sinks into himself even more. “I don’t want to order anything, I was supposed to cook for you, and we were gonna drink beer and laugh and-” He stops to sigh.

The brunette man sets the fire extinguisher down on the kitchen floor, “Baby, it doesn’t matter. At least you tried, and even though you screwed up, no one does cooking right on their first try, it’s just not possible. Everyone messes up, everyone-“

“Starts fires?”

“Well…”

Thor groans again, letting his body slide against the fridge to the floor.

“What’s going on?”

The blonde shrugs his shoulders, avoiding the knowing eyes of his husband. The man looks so worried for Thor, and the idea of it almost makes him sick. “You’re doing so well.” He mumbles, barely audible. “After everything, you’re just doing so well. And I’m-“ Thor let's out a laugh, “I’m not!”

Bruce sits next to him on the floor, but doesn’t say anything. Only turns his head, encouraging for Thor to keep going.

“I’ve tried to pretend that this is all easy for me, but you can tell that it’s not. And you- you take days off of work to spend time with me! You cuddle me and we watch movies and you watch me to make sure I’m okay, and I hate it!” God, Bruce has spent his entire life being worried. Worried about his mother, worried about what his father will do to him and his mother, worried about the Hulk, worried about military leaders who are hunting him, and worried about war.

Thor doesn’t want to be another worry.

Bruce found his place at NYU teaching young adults about gamma radiation, because that’s what he loves to do. Thor doesn’t fight anymore, he’s retired his weapons to their basement and he spends most of his time catching up on pop culture and listening to music (he loves Adele). And, he’s happy, because he’s with the love of his life, and he doesn’t have to kill anyone again, and he has time to enjoy simple things like shows on Broadway and Jamba Juice.

But he’s also sad, because people on the street don’t look at him the same way, so he doesn’t leave the house. The world loves Professor Hulk, which is why he’s always out in it, but no one loves chubby Thor. He’s sad because Bruce is a genius with an amazing job that he adores, and all Thor adores is watching TV. He’s sad because even though they caused him stress, he misses the fights. He misses having a purporse, and having someone need him like they did before.

On top of it all, he’s sad because Bruce knows that he’s sad and is trying to fix it. For the first time in Bruce’s life things are perfect, he can be himself in public and he’s not consumed by his rage, and he doesn't have to destroy things anymore because he’s made this wonderful life for himself.

Thor doesn’t want to unravel this just because he feels needy.

The man already looks at him so concerned and touches him so gently like he’s afraid that Thor will run away.

So maybe Thor thought, that if he could just cook for Bruce, that’d prove he’s capable of doing things, that he won’t break down without him around. And maybe his husband would feel better about everything.

Maybe he’d never have to be worried again.

It’s silent for a long while, then Bruce blinks, “You really think I’m okay just because I go to work and cook dinner sometimes?”

Thor doesn’t say anything.

“Baby, I’m-” He chuckles, “I’m a mess too. It’s been over a year, but it still feels like yesterday when every cell in my body felt like it was being burned up. I wake up in the middle of the night with these terrible nightmares, but you always help me back to sleep.

“Yes, sometimes I worry about you, but I’m always gonna be worried about you. I care about you, Thor, more than anything, you’re the only person I have. When I take those days off, they aren’t just for you, sometimes I just want to cuddle and watch movies and look at you, because I can.” Bruce takes his hand, “I love you, alright?”

Thor swallows the anxiety that had been festering in his stomach and smiles, “Alright.”

Bruce returns the smile, “Now, help me clean up this mess.” The blonde man laughs, resting his head on his shoulder. His husband looks down at him with an amused frown, “I’m not joking.”

#bruce banner #Thor Odinson #thor odinson imagine #bruce banner imagine #thruce #thorbruce #thorxbruce #thorxhulk #thulk #professorhulk #endgameimagine #post endgame #mxm #Thor Bruce

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pickalilywrites · 6 years

Note

I love your writing so much! Can you write us a Hogwarts AU? I wonder what house everyone would be in! (Wanted ask before I forgot but realized you aren’t looking for anymore prompts so sorry for asking anyways!)

Don’t ask me how I picked. Half of it was just me thinking, “They’d look really good in these house colors, heehee.”

The Magic of Calzones

104th Trainee Corps. Hogwarts AU.

3623 words.

Connie stands excitedly in front of the fourth years. To think that this Hufflepuff prankster has captured the attention of his peers for something other than a practical joke is surprising. To learn that it is because he’s here to give them a lesson is even more surprising. However, one may be less surprised upon learning that in order to give this lesson, he’s snuck into the kitchens after bribing the house dwarves with two baskets of dirty laundry and the promise of allowing them to clean up the kitchens after the students were done.

“Alright! I hope you all have paired up because we’re all about to make one of the most delicious things on the planet: calzones!” he says. His chest is puffed out, proud to be able to introduce this Muggle delicacy to their magical tongues. “Nikolo, you’re with me.”

“Me?” the young wizard splutters. He looks pathetically at Sasha, who is too busy laughing with Jean to notice him, and then back at Connie. “Why should I be working with you? I don’t know anything about these ‘calzones’ or whatever they are!”

“Aw, come on,” Connie says. He puts on the most horrendous face, thinking perhaps that an exaggerated face might be enough to sway Nikolo but it only repulses the other boy. “You know how to cook and stuff so you can give people extra pointers. I only know the rough basics to this. If we work together, I’m sure we could create the best calzone there is!”

“Ah, he’s right,” Sasha says, finally paying attention now. She leans on the counter with her elbows, giving Nikolo a charming smile. “You’re a great chef. I’m sure we’d all have an easier time if you helped Connie teach us.”

Nikolo’s face flushes at the small compliment and he stammers, “Fine, I’ll do it.” He grows even redder when Sasha and Connie cheer, happy that he’s agreed.

“Now,” Connie says, clearing his throat. He mimics the same strict expression of Professor Smith, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and deepens his voice when he speaks. “Who here knows of the great calzone?”

A few of the Muggle-borns and those with a Muggle parent raise their hands, but it is Eren, his hand extended higher than anyone else’s, who is called upon.

“A calzone is an oven-baked dish created by Italian Muggles,” the Gryffindor wizard replies with an equally serious expression. For some reason, he knows more about this than he does any of the subjects he studies for. One must think that he’s clearly planned this out with Connie beforehand or has a hidden passion for food that rivals Sasha’s. “The dish originated in Naples and is made from salted bread dough and stuffed with ingredients such as ricotta, mozzarella, salami, ham, and egg, although these can vary depending on the region. Essentially, it’s a pizza that’s folded over and baked in an oven.”

“Excellent! A bajillion points for Gryffindor!” Connie roars.

In the corner of the room, Annie rolls her eyes. The poor Ravenclaw was brought here against her will and it seems she has no energy to leave. At least she gets food after all this is over.

“First, we shall roll the dough!” Connie says in the same booming voice. He slaps a ball of dough down onto the countertop in front of him and takes the rolling pin at his workstation and begins to roll it out. “You should all have some dough and a rolling pin at your workstations. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough supplies for everyone, so you’ll all have to take turns.”

Jean watches as Sasha rolls out the door. She’s surprisingly careful, he finds, but he still says, “Don’t eat any of that.”

She’s scandalized at his suggestion, stopping for a moment to turn to him and say, “You’d think I’d eat raw dough? What kind of monster do you think I am?”

He rolls his eyes and takes the rolling pin from her. He frowns when he finds the dough to be more elastic than he thought. Even though he presses down and rolls the pin across it, it sees to revert to its original shape. Holding up the pin between his fingers, he says, “I think this is broken.”

Sasha snatches it from him and smirks. “It’s not broken. You’re just bad at cooking. Here, let me show you,” she says, proceeding to roll out the dough more and giving Jean pointers along the way.

Nikolo looks wistfully their way, wishing that he was the one at Sasha’s side, but someone else’s voice breaks him out of his daydream.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m doing this quite right,” Historia frets. For a Gryffindor, she’s always been surprisingly timid. Nikolo has wondered why she wasn’t sorted into Hufflepuff, although he’d never spoken about it with anyone lest word of it got to Ymir, Historia’s close friend (or bodyguard, more like).

Not wanting to have anything to do with this but at the same time not wanting to be glued to Connie’s side the entire time, he walks over to Historia to see what he can do to help. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” Historia says, biting her lip. She tries to roll it more, but it sticks to her pin and she frowns. When she attempts to peel it off with her hands, it only sticks to her fingers. “Why is it like this? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing absolutely everything right, Historia,” Ymir says affectionately. The Slytherin sits on a stool beside her. From her clean hands, it seems like she hasn’t even bothered picking up the dough. It doesn’t look as though she has any intention of cooking either. The girl reaches over to twirl a lock of hair of Historia’s ponytail around her finger. “You couldn’t do anything wrong in your life if you tried.”

“Well, that’s not really true,” Nikolo says, clearing his throat. He picks up a little bowl of flour and places it closer to Historia. She probably hadn’t noticed it when she first arrived and didn’t have any experience cooking or baking. He coats his fingers in the flour, rubbing some of it on his palms, and holds out his hand for the rolling pin. “You just need to add a little flour to the dough or else it sticks everywhere. Otherwise, I’d say you’re doing a fine job.”

“Oh, I see,” Historia says. She watches as Nikolo rubs a little flour on her rolling pin and marvels at him as he rolls out a little of the dough for her. When she takes the pin and begins to roll herself, the dough flattens easily beneath the weight of the pin. She beams at him, an angelic smile that stuns him for a second because he doesn’t remember seeing anything quite as pretty as her in his life. “Thank you, Nikolo.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” he stammers stupidly. He stands there for a second, still not believing that such a person could wield this much beauty, before Ymir waves her hand in his face and begins snapping.

“Hey, Nikolo,” Ymir snaps. “We don’t need you anymore, so run along. It looks like Connie is moving onto the next step anyway.”

Indeed, Connie is moving onto the next step. He orders the rest of the students to follow his lead as he slathers on a generous amount of tomato sauce on his little circle of dough, spreading it out with the spoon and following it up with a spinach-ricotta filling he had prepared for all them earlier. He’s a goofball, but he plans things out surprisingly well.

“Should we put as much as them?” Mina Carolina asks Marco, looking over at Sasha and Jean.

On Sasha and Jean’s calzones, Sasha had piled on a mountain of the filling. She either didn’t know it needed to be folded over afterward or just didn’t care. Or perhaps she thought herself capable of spreading the thin layer of dough over all that spinach-ricotta without breaking it. They hadn’t even added the pulled chicken that was leftover from lunch that day. Beside her, it seems like Jean has given up on telling her to restrain herself with the filling. He only scoops out the excess filling on his own calzone to ensure that at least one of their calzones is successful.

“No,” Marco laughs. “I think we’re doing fine.”

“Put more of the spinach in yours,” Mikasa tells Eren. She frowns at how much chicken he’s loaded onto his calzone. “You need to balance it out more.”

“It is balanced!” Eren insists even though it’s clear that it’s not. He had the thinnest layer of spinach-ricotta spread over his dough. It looks to be just a healthy layer of chicken all over his calzone. He looks at Armin, hoping that his friend will back him up. “Right, Armin?”

“Er,” Armin hesitates. The Ravenclaw looks away, trying to tend to his own calzone in the hopes of escaping this conversation but Eren fixes his intense stare at him and it seems he cannot ignore him any longer. Assessing the outcome of the answers he can give, he decides that it’s better to side with Mikasa than Eren. “She’s right. You might as well just eat a chicken sandwich if you’re going to stuff it like that.”

“Fine!” Eren grumbles, angrily stuffing more spinach-ricotta filling into the calzone. He’s too lazy to take off the chicken though and ends up just dumping a lump of the filling on top of the meat, not even bothering to spread it out so that it’s all even.

Mikasa and Armin, not wanting to make Eren more pissed than he already is, simply let him and his lopsided calzone be.

“Now fold it up, folks! I hope you didn’t fill up your calzones too much because you still need to press the edges down together too. You can press them down on your own or use a fork if that’s easier,” Connie says. He demonstrates for them, folding his calzone over easily and pressing at the edges with a fork. Carefully, he cuts open three little slits at the top to release steam when the calzone bakes in the oven. He finishes it off by brushing egg white over the outside to ensure a golden crust once it finishes baking in the oven. “If you need any help, Nikolo and I will be walking around to help!”

Some people’s calzones look better than others. While the final product will only be seen once they pull it out of the oven, it’s not difficult to see which calzones will end up a failure even without having to be put in the oven.

Connie nearly doubles over in laughter when he sees Sasha’s calzone. It’s full to bursting and the dough is pulled so thin at the edges that it looks like it might break. In the end, it’s Nikolo who has to come over and fix everything, spooning out excess filling while Sasha cries in the corner while Jean makes fun of her. Eren’s calzone undergoes a similar operation. While Nikolo scoops out the extra meat and filling, Eren mutters about how he was doing well before Armin and Mikasa began to tell him what to do. Others, however, do exceedingly well.

Marco and Mina, who followed Connie’s instructions down to the very letter, come out with two of the best-looking calzones to no one’s surprise. It is, however, Annie’s calzone, with its perfectly pressed crust, pleated to look like a skirt, that astounds Connie the most and he praises her so loudly without restraint that a rare blush flushes across the reclusive Ravenclaw’s face.

“What the hell is that?” Nikolo asks, pointing at the strangely-shaped calzone that sits in Reiner’s workspace. When he looks up, he sees Reiner grinning mischievously while Bertholdt just shakes his head.

“It’s better if you didn’t know,” Bertholdt mutters, but it’s too late.

“It’s an ass!” Reiner bellows. He smacks it and lets out a loud roar of laughter. “Bertholdt told me I could never make a calzone in this shape, but I sure proved him wrong!”

“No, I told you that you shouldn’t make it in that shape,” Bertholdt hisses, completely mortified. He looks at Nikolo, his expression miserable. “If you’d rather we just throw it away, I completely understand.”

“Is that a butt?” Connie cackles. He laughs so hard that Nikolo is afraid that he’ll fall onto the floor in a fit of giggles. When he finally composes himself, Connie claps a hand on Reiner’s shoulder. “You’re my star pupil, Reiner.”

“Well, you’re a great instructor, Professor Springer,” Reiner replies, giving Connie a thumbs up.

Nikolo rolls his eyes and collects all the calzones onto baking trays. He tries not to look too hard at Reiner’s. No matter what he does, it just looks like a butt. Although they’re fourth years now, it seems that Reiner – and Connie – still act like children.

After the calzones are loaded into the ovens, many of the students crowd around the oven to peer inside. The Italian dish looks so pale in the oven light and fifteen minutes seems too long to wait.

“Can’t we just, like, speed up the process?” Sasha says, whipping out her wand. She stares hungrily into the oven, watching the calzones with a close eye. She’s practically drooling as she imagines how they’ll look once they come out – their crisp, golden crust and the melted spinach-ricotta center paired with the tender pulled chicken all together with the thin layer of creamy tomato sauce.

“Put that away,” Jean says, looking at her wand warily. He knows she’s not a bad witch, but he’s seen her blow up too many things during Potions to trust her to use magic around food. “Just be patient.”

“You know,” Eren says, speaking up from the back. He’s leaning with his back against a counter. “There are calzones that are already made for you. You just need to heat them up for a few minutes and – boom – a plate of delicious folded pizzas on a plate already for eating.”

“A few minutes? So you don’t have to wait nearly as long as we’re doing right now?” Mina asks, curious. Like a good number of students in the kitchens, Mina is unfamiliar with Muggle technology after having been brought up primarily in the wizarding world where things like microwaves haven’t quite made their way into the hands of magical users yet.

“Microwaves,” Marco tells her. “Very useful for heating up leftovers.”

“Why can’t you just magic it into being hot again?” Historia asks.

“Because with a microwave you can just press a couple of buttons and be done with it,” Eren replies. “Actually, some meals you can just buy from the store and pop it in the microwave and it’ll be done for you.”

“Yeah, but those usually aren’t any good,” Connie says, wrinkling his nose. “It’s better if you make it yourself.”

“There is a kind of magic in making food yourself, isn’t there?” Sasha says as she stares dreamily at the calzones, the crusts a slight golden color now that they’ve sat in the oven for a while.

“Are all microwave meals the same?” Jean asks. He has a frown on his face like the idea of getting a meal so easily is more ridiculous than using magic to transport it from somewhere else. “How popular are they?”

“Popular enough to have a lot of variety,” Bertholdt says, remembering eating a microwave meal himself before. “I didn’t really enjoy that one I had.”

“Well, if there are a lot, maybe you didn’t eat one of the good ones,” Reiner tells him.

The young wizards and witches strike up a debate on whether or not microwave meals are any good, if they would try them or not, and how much taste they would sacrifice for time efficiency. A few students, like Annie, just hang in the background regretting having been dragged there in the first place.

When the timer dings, Connie pulls the calzones out of the oven. A few of the calzones look absolutely horrendous – Sasha’s has burst open, the filling spilling out, and Eren’s only looks slightly better than hers. Reiner’s calzone won’t even be discussed here because its appearance is far too vulgar. However, most of them come out quite beautifully; the crusts are a perfect gold color, the steam rising from them with the smell of chicken, ricotta, and spinach. It’s like a little Italian kitchen in that room.

“So good,” Sasha moans after she snatched her calzone off the tray, biting into it despite it being piping hot. Between chews, she opens her mouth to suck in more air, cooling off her tongue because of the hot cheese and meat inside her calzone. “I love it!”

“What do you think, Annie?” Eren asks.

“It’s alright,” Annie replies, but the multiple bites she’s taken of her calzone say otherwise.

“We should do this more often,” Historia says. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind when Ymir reaches over to take a bite of her food. “This was really fun, Connie!”

“It was pretty fun,” Armin agrees. “And this time you didn’t even have to get in trouble.”

Connie strikes a pose, his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Delicious fun for everyone, right? I’m quite the genius! The professors should definitely appreciate me and my brilliant mind more.”

“Oh, don’t think you’re not in trouble,” a voice drawls from the back of the room.

The students all turn around to find four prefects watching them. They had all been too busy eating and conversing to notice the prefects sneak into the kitchens.

“Students in the kitchen?” Eld Jinn, the sixth year Gryffindor prefect says, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re all smart students. You should know better than this.”

“But…you guys are students too. And you’re in the kitchen,” Connie points out stupidly.

Ymir jabs him in the ribs with her elbow to shut him up.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff for being mouthy,” Auruo Bossard, one of the Hufflepuff prefects, frowns.

“We really should inform the House Heads and the Headmaster,” Gunter Schultz says. “It’s worrisome that so many of you have snuck into the kitchen.”

Petra Ral, the other Hufflepuff prefect, comes forth with a gracious smile. “However, we’re willing to look over this infraction on one condition.”

The poor fourth years look at each other, wondering what sort of deal the prefects are about to propose. It’s Eren who finally steps up to speak.

“What is it?”

“If you give us the rest of these ‘calzones’ of yours,” Eld says, picking an extra calzone from the tray and inspecting it closely, “we’ll forget this ever happened. All you’d have to do is clean up the kitchens. We won’t even take off any more points.”

“But the house elves…,” Armin begins.

Eld raises an eyebrow, his expression intimidating the young wizard. In the end, Armin doesn’t say anything. He’s hardly ever lost a point for Ravenclaw and he doesn’t want to lose one now.

“Well,” Jean sighs. “Let’s all clean up.”

“These kids are better chefs than they are wizards,” Eld remarks as he takes another bite.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Petra says. She licks a speck of tomato sauce from her thumb. “Some of these turned out to look pretty terrible. If they’re worse than this, Hogwarts really needs to rethink its staff or at least the students that graduate from here.”

“They do a decent job at cleaning though,” Gunter comments.

“For about twenty students, yeah,” Auruo snorts. He wipes a hand across a counter and frowns at the flour that sticks to his skin. It’s very little, but it’s definitely there. “If Levi were to ever see this, I’m sure he’d be displeased.”

“You’re right. This is hardly clean.”

“He’s right behind us, isn’t he?” Eld mutters.

“He is!” Hanji, the Head Girl of Ravenclaw says cheerfully. Although she should be scolding them, she’s prancing around the kitchen, looking curiously at the calzones. Going over to Petra, she plucks her friend’s food out of her hands and turns it in her hands. “Very strange things indeed. This is a calzone, you said?”

“Don’t eat that,” Levi snaps.

Mike Zacharias, the Head Boy of Hufflepuff, sniffs around the kitchens, eventually opening an oven and taking a good whiff. “Smells good.”

“Want some?” Petra asks. She wipes off her hands with a towel, looking carefully at Levi even though she knows what he’ll say.

“I want you to clean up these kitchens,” he replies. He frowns at the flour on the counters and on Auruo’s hands. “You’ve all been prefects since your fifth year. You should know better than to sneak into the kitchen for a meal.”

“But-“ Auruo begins.

“Right away, sir,” Gunter says, stepping on Auruo’s foot to shut him up. He’s smart enough to know that Levi won’t hear any excuses and Gryffindor’s Head Boy would be even more displeased if he were to find out about the students that had been occupying the kitchens before them.

“You think he’d go easier on us since you’re dating him,” Eld mutters to Petra as they scrub the inside of the oven together. Since Levi believes cleaning is more thorough when done by hand, they can’t use magic to clean things in front of him. Behind them, Auruo is hard at work washing the dishes while Gunter sweeps the floors. Mike and Hanji are busy sampling the few calzones left over and Levi glowers at all of them, making sure that every inch of the kitchen is spotless.

“That’s what I thought too, but it turns out he’s a sadist,” Petra says glumly. “Or maybe I’m a masochist.”

“Maybe both are true,” Eld says, grinning.

“What was that?” Levi says, appearing behind them.

“Nothing!” the two prefects reply, scrubbing harder.

46 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 6 years

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Oneshot: The Real Superpower of Teamwork!

Yes, the title of this is taken from Sonic Heroes in all its cheesy glory. I’ve been meaning to write something with Brick and Savannah and I finally got inspiration!

“If you hadn’t stood there and gaped like an idiot at that ham dinosaur, the pistachios would’ve been fine!” Brick ranted, pacing around the room. “You know what? Now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been so quick to report those bozos to Mr. Block, we could’ve defused the situation without him putting us on pistachio duty!”

Savannah was far more concerned with the nail file in her hand. “You can think?” she asked dryly. “Shocker.”

“At least I don’t tattletale on people even if they completely deserve it!” Brick retorted.

“Tattletale?” Savannah scoffed. “What are you, five? Oh wait. I don’t want to insult five year olds.”

A light buzz from the large monitor interrupted their argument. Savannah furiously hit a red button on the panel to turn it on. Mr. Block appeared on the screen, frowning more than usual.

Well, he was always frowning. So most people didn’t see a difference. Either way, he was the type to suck all sunshine and rainbows out of the room with his presence.

And maybe kick a few puppies while he was at it.

“We have an emergency,” Mr. Block grunted.

Well, second thoughts after a week was better than nothing.

Brick adjusted his bow tie smugly. Savannah wished a truck would smack that stupid smirk off his face. “I’m glad, sir. Who requires diplomatic assistance?”

“Nobody. The Board decided that the agents will have to attend an all day seminar on teamwork,” Mr. Block growled. “The session begins at 9 am tomorrow in the Future Convention Center. Be there or else I’ll remove you both from pistachio duty....”

Well, they could just blow it off then. Savannah didn’t care. She could use a spa day.

“...and put you on chimney cleaning duty.”

Goodbye spa day.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to message Concord and Ohio. I’d like the few moments of peace I get before I have to call those idiots.”

The Future Convention Center was ‘a state of the art, taxpayer-funded facility which encouraged progress in science and the arts’.

At least, that’s what they said.

Most people tended to leave out the part that it was created from the shell of a haunted football stadium.

The memo specified that field equipment wouldn’t be needed, so Savannah had stored her shield, watches, grappling gun, and jewelry inside a locker at the Bureau. She felt so much lighter now that she didn’t have to carry around all that junk.

She was waved through the metal detector with no issues.

Unfortunately, she had to wait on Brick, who set off the metal detectors ten times and counting as he tried to smuggle his equipment past security.

“Brick! Just empty your pockets!” she yelled impatiently. “What were you doing in the Bureau earlier while I was in the locker room?”

Brick shrugged as best he could while security grew fed up and took him aside for a full body pat-down. “They finally had an instant coffee machine installed so I took full advantage. I don’t function if I don’t have caffeine.”

Savannah thought Brick’s brain never functioned in general.

The security team confiscated a total of five laser watches, three tasers, a Nokia, and a grappling gun from Brick’s person. Everything was tossed on the large pile of stuff that had been taken as Brick went through the metal detectors.

“We would’ve been in already if you’d read the memo,” Savannah muttered.

“We could’ve snuck past security if you hadn’t taken so long in the Bureau,” Brick shot back.

The day had barely started and she was already regretting her life choices.

There was a distinct lack of Cavendish and Dakota. As the inspirational speaker talked about friendship and teamwork and some other junk, Savannah scanned the audience for them.

Then that thought was discarded when Mr. Block and his assistant, Gretchen, plopped down in the seats next to her. “What are you doing here?” Savannah asked.

Mr. Block sighed heavily. “Supervising officers were also required to attend. Unfortunately.” He tossed a crumpled up ball of notebook paper on her lap.

Savannah glared at him for the blatant disrespect. Sulking, she unfolded the paper to reveal a neatly written note from Cavendish.

We will not be in attendance due to unforeseen circumstances. Give my regards to the Bureau.

-Cavendish

Then Savannah saw the bottom portion, which was written in a messy scrawl.

Soy milk, grapes, frozen mozzarella sticks, wait this is the note Cavendish was sending ignore this part!

-Dakota

She never thought she’d be envious of those two. She made a mental note to ask how they blew off Bureau company events with such practiced ease.

Finally, the inspirational speaker finished and they broke off into groups.

Savannah was definitely not going to survive being on a team that included Brick and Mr. Block. She withheld judgment on Gretchen for now.

Tortured through elementary school field day events. They were getting downright diabolical.

A mud pit and a long rope. Perfect. Just perfect.

This was not the type of dirty work listed in her job description.

The instructor wrote something on a clipboard. His overly cheery T-shirt was ridiculous. Bureau employees should always have at least have some level of class.

She counted Cavendish and Dakota under ‘time traveling janitors’, so they didn’t qualify.

“Welcome to your first team building exercise!” he exclaimed. “My name is Carlos and I’m sure we’ll be able to salvage your professional relationship with your assigned partner. So to start off, we’ll begin with tug o’war. Best out of three wins!”

Best out of three rock-paper-scissors would’ve preserved some of her dignity.

“The rules are simple,” Carlos said.

Savannah rolled her eyes at the pointless explanation. They knew what the objective was.

“But there’s one additional rule. The partner in front must sing ‘What’s gonna work?’ and the partner in back sings ‘teamwork’ back. This will help synchronize you!”

“Hold it! Since when do we have to sing?” Brick complained. “I didn’t sign up for this!”

She had lost her taste for spontaneous singing and dancing when she witnessed Dakota’s...interesting rendition of the Bohemian Rhapsody at the karaoke night years ago.

“There was nothing in the memo about singing,” Savannah added.

Carlos shrugged. “The Board didn’t want us to put that bit in because they actually wanted people to show up.”

Maybe she could file an appeal with a federal court and claim the Board was enforcing cruel and unusual punishment.

“But enough talking! Let’s begin!” Carlos exclaimed. Savannah beat Brick to the back end of the rope, leaving him to grumble as he took he took the front end. If they lost, she could at least land on Brick and minimize the amount of mud on her clothes. On the other side, Mr. Block ordered Gretchen to take the front. “Go!”

Savannah tugged hard, feeling the rope tighten in her grasp. She took a step back, the rope sliding towards their end. Mr. Block and Gretchen should have been no match for field agents, being stuck behind desk jobs all day.

But it appeared they had some level of physical prowess, since the rope pulled towards them. Her feet slid forward.

“Brick! Pull harder!” Savannah hissed.

“I’m pulling as hard as I can!” Brick grunted.

“I don’t hear singing from either side!” Carlos called.

“What’s gonna work?” Gretchen said flatly.

“Winning and not dying no matter how much we want to,” Mr. Block responded.

Knowing it was a losing battle, Savannah decided to take this loss gracefully and dropped the rope, allowing Brick to plop in the mud pit by himself. “You did that on purpose!” Brick spat out a glob of mud, wheezing from the impact.

Savannah shrugged. “Can’t prove it though.”

“Gretchen, can you tell them why they lost?” Carlos asked.

Gretchen adjusted her glasses. “Because Newton’s Third Law dictates that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

“Nope!” Carlos shook his head. “It’s because they didn’t sing the teamwork song!”

“I refuse,” Savannah said. “I’ll take the losses now. Call me when the next event comes along.” She sat on a nearby bench and watched everyone but Gretchen proceed to make fools of themselves.

Ten minutes later, Carlos was wiping mud off his hair. “Well, I’d say that was successful! Feeling closer yet?”

Brick glared at him. “I was dropped into the mud pit twice because she bailed on me! How is that supposed to help?”

“Better you than me,” Mr. Block said, wiping a very miniscule amount of mud off his uniform.

Gretchen toweled herself off, not seeming to care about the situation at all.

“Moving on!” Carlos clapped his hands eagerly. Savannah stood up, ignoring the death glare Brick leveled at her. “For the second event, each of you will learn the value of teamwork and cooperation. This way we can prevent strife within the organization and behave civilly towards our coworkers!”

It better not be another field day event, Savannah thought.

“You’ll be playing Mario Party!”

Certain scenes have been cut from the story because the Bureau of Time Travel wishes to cover up the carnage that ensued because some idiots fought over who got to pick Yoshi. No details shall be given about the actual game. The author has been sworn to secrecy or else be forced to listen to the 10 hour version of the Meow Mix commercial.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

Carlos had been sent to therapy immediately following the disastrous game of Mario Party. Poor naive man had to live with the consequences for the rest of his days.

Savannah developed an opinion on Gretchen: ruthless, unforgiving, and Mr. Block was child’s play compared to her efficiency. How she was only an assistant was anyone’s guess.

Without a spare instructor, there was nobody to lead them on team-building exercises, so Savannah and Brick hightailed it out of there as quickly as possible.

On the bright side, Savannah didn’t have to put up with Brick complaining about his stuff getting confiscated anymore.

#milo murphy's law #brick and savannah #bureau of time travel #mr.block #fanfiction

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sohmariku · 7 years

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Japan Expo - Toumyu Showcase

At the start of this month I promised to write down a full transcript of the talk segment at Japan Expo. Due to work & my vacation, I didn’t get it done as soon as I had hoped. But, it’s here right now!

Well, obviously it’s an English translation of the transcription... xD I tried color coding the text, but tumblr seems to hate color, so... You’ll have to do with name codes instead! (And I hope I didn’t make any mistakes along the way...)

SR =Sato Ryuji ST = Sakiyama Tsubasa KR = Kitazono Ryo SD = Saeki Daichi OS= Ohira Shunya AL = All

(Oh, and remember I mentioned I’d be sharing a “nice little Toumyu something” last week, you can now find it in my Toumyu folder. Please make sure to read the text file too!)

Saturday, 8 July 2017 Talk Segment

AL Hello, Japan Expo! Bonjour! We are the Touken Danshi.

SR I portray Kashu Kiyomitsu, I'm Sato Ryuji. KR I portray Kogitsunemaru, I'm Kitazono Ryo. ST I portray Ishikirimaru, I'm Sakiyama Tsubasa. SD I portray Iwatoshi, I'm Saeki Daichi. OS I portray Imanotsurugi, I'm Ohira Shunya!

SR The Touken Ranbu musicals are based on a game by the same name. KR The goal of the game is to gather, train and strengthen Touken Danshi in order to protect history. ST Aside from Japan, we also had performances in China's Shanghai and Zhuhai Earlier this year we also guested at the India Gaming Show. SD We also got to give a special performance at Itsukushima Shrine, a world heritage site. And at the end of last year we also held a live concert. OS Yes, that's right. By the way, does anyone here know Touken Ranbu SR Sounds like a lot OS Yes, it does. By the way, the anime Katsugeki Touken Ranbu just started airing. Everyone, please check it out!

ST So, this is our first time in Paris. Well, yesterday we also got to perform on this stage. Yesterday we talked about the places in Paris we'd like to see. Today I'd like us to talk about what caught our eye in Paris. For me, it's the Seine. KR The Seine? ST This morning, before coming here, we took a stroll along the river. SR You didn't seem to be enjoying it that much though. [1] ST Yeah, I suppose. Who's next? OS Who's next? KR For me, it's the French baguettes. French baguettes. See, everyone loves them, right? Tsubasa and I immediately bought one after arriving in Paris and ate it in the bus to our hotel. ST Who's next? OS May I? There's one thing that really amazed me. The afternoons are really long. In Japan the sun usually rises at 5AM and goes down at 5PM. But in France the sun rises really early and doesn't go down until 10PM, right? Everyone, please visit Japan sometime! ST How about you, Iwatoshi? SD Let me think. Japanese history is quite remarkable. But I think French History is also quite interesting, especially the French Revolution. I really love the movie narrating those events, Les Misérables. Right, the police officer Javert took his own life by jumping in the Seine. SR Too long, take a break. [2] SD A break? [2] ST How about you, Kashu? SR For me, it surprised me how incredibly beautiful the French people are. Not as beautiful as I though. Also, in Japan we... FAN RYUJI/KASHU! SR Yes? We have French cuisine in Japan too. But the French cuisine in France definitely tastes better. All right, let's keep talking.

SR Next up, what Japanese food would you recommend to everyone? Who would like to start? ST Soba noodles! ST You have warm soba noodles and cold soba noodles, ST I recommend you try warm soba noodles. [3] SD I'd like to recommend rice balls. There are a lot of flavors to try. Aren't they great? ST What flavor do you prefer? SD Me? I prefer kelp. You're exaggerating! (to Tsubasa) OS I think everyone could tell. [4] ST I'm sorry. KR I recommend sushi. SR There's one over there, a drawing of you. [5] KR No, that's not what I mean. It seems that outside Japan people don't eat freshly made sushi all that often. Only when it's freshly made, the flavor of the fish can be fully appreciated. Be sure to try some freshly made sushi in Japan. SR Maybe some have already? KR Who has tried sushi before? SR Quite a lot of people. ST While we're at it, which flavor do you like? KR My favorite ingredient for sushi is horse mackerel. AL I see, horse mackerel? KR Yes, horse mackerel.

SR How about you, Imanotsurugi? OS For me it's definitely that. If we're talking about something Japanese, it would be rice. You should try rice with natto. [6] And you top it with an umeboshi. Do you know what umeboshi are? [6] It looks like many of you don't know, but umeboshi are really sour. Please try them! SR If I had to recommend something, it would be dango. [7] I'd like ever, oh.... OK, I'd like everyone who doesn't know Touken Ranbu to remember. Touken Danshi love dango! All right, let's talk some more! Sounds like our master needs us. Everyone, are you ready? AL Yeah! ST I'm not a specialist in warfare, but I'll do what I can. SR All right, into battle! SD Let's go hunting! KR I'm taking the field. ST But I haven't finished the incantations and prayers yet! OS All right, everyone ready? All right, let's go to war!

SR Thank you, everyone. Au revoir! (Goodbye) KR Thank you very much. Thank you, Paris! ST Thank you very much for today. À la prochaine.(Until next time.) SD Thank you very much. Merci, Paris! OS Merci! (Thank you) Je t'aime beaucoup!(I love you all a lot) SR Let's meet again! See you!

Friday, 7 July 2017 Talk Segment

AL Hello, Japan Expo! Bonjour, Paris! We are the Touken Danshi.

SR I portray Kashu Kiyomitsu, I'm Kashu Kiyomitsu. KR I portray Kogitsunemaru, I'm Kitazono Ryo. ST I portray Ishikirimaru, I'm Sakiyama Tsubasa. SD I portray Iwatoshi, I'm Saeki Daichi. OS I portray Imanotsurugi, I'm Ohira Shunya!

SR The Touken Ranbu musicals are based on a game by the same name. KR The goal of the game is to gather, train and strengthen Touken Danshi in order to protect history. ST Aside from Japan, we also had performances in China's Shanghai and Zhuhai. Earlier this year we also guested at the India Gaming Show. SD We also got to give a special performance at Itsukushima Shrine, a World heritage site. And at the end of last year we also held a live concert. OS By the way, does anyone here know Touken Ranbu? By the way, the anime Katsugeki Touken Ranbu just started airing. Please check it out later.

ST Yes, we... thank you very much. Yesterday we arrived in Paris and this is our first time here. We already got to taste things like onion soup and mozzarella. SD That cheese was really delicious! ST By the way, since we've come all the way to Paris, I'd like to hear what places you'd like to visit. SR Disneyland Paris. ST That goes without saying. [8] What else? SD Avenue des Champ-Élysées. KR I'd like to go to the Louvre. OS I'd like to see this one, the Eiffel Tower! SD That's so cute. ST I wanted to go here.

SR But they use a lot of cheese in French cuisine, don't you agree? SD And there's a really unique smell to it. SR Anyway, I'd like us to recommend some places in Japan for everyone to visit. Who has been to Japan before? ST That's quite a lot of people. My recommendation would be to visit temples. I really hope you'll visit some while in Japan. SD I think you should visit the Tokyo Sky Tree. It equals the Eiffel tower, Imanotsurugi just mentioned, in magnificence. KR It's not really a place, but I think Japan is really famous for its martial arts. Like sumo, karate and judo. I think... [9] If you have the chance, I really hope you'll give it a try. SR How about you, Imanotsurugi? OS Well, let me think. As I think many here haven't visited Japan before, please visit Japan during the Olympics! SR Since I'm the sword of one of the Shinsengumi members, I'd like you to visit Kyoto.

OS While we're at it, let's introduce our character's distinguishing feature to everyone. Is that all right with you? Thank you. Who goes first? SR Shall I begin? For me, it would be my red-painted nails and high-heeled shoes. SD You're a smart dresser. SR Yes, I suppose. OS You're very stylish. Who's next? ST Just now I recommended visiting shrines in Japan. I'm wearing this attire, known as kariginu, which is worn during ceremonies at a shrine. I think that would be my distinguishing feature. ?? Then, who's next? KR May I? Mine would definitely be my fluffy hair, and this sexy off-the-shoulder look of my yellow kimono. Yes, I think that's it. SD My distinguishing feature is most definitely this long Naginata. It's way too long. And also, this cute hood. OS It's really cute, isn't it. Good, may I? I'm a tantou, and a mamorigatana. [10] For that reason Tantou are pretty small, and pretty nimble, and really energetic. FAN CUTE! OS Thank you! My character Imanotsurugi has a really cute line. Will you say it with me? Here we go! Imitez moi!(Repeat after me) Babyuun! One more time! ?? Amazing! OS Merci! (Thank you) ST Well done. SD Isn't this fun? SR All right, are you ready? AL Yes! ST I'm not a specialist in warfare, but I'll do what I can. SR All right, into battle! SD Let's go hunting! KR I'm taking the field. OS All right, let's go to war!

[1] I'm not sure if I understood this right! Either Tsubasa didn't look like he enjoyed it, or Ryuji didn't enjoy it as much as Tsubasa, or Tsubasa dragged them along whether they wanted to not.

[2] Not literally what they're saying, because I can't hear it well, but Ryuji seem to be pointing out to Daichi he should give the interpreter a chance to speak.

[3] I agree with Tsubasa, warm noodles are better.

[4] I think Tsubasa was pulling a weird face at this point.

[5] A word play by Kashu? (Zushi = illustration)

[6] Natto = fermented soybeans, umeboshi = pickled plum

[7] Dango = boiled or steamed ball of (rice) flour

[8] This is a guess, I didn't catch on to what he said

[9] At this point Ryo's mic sent a loud screeching noise through the room, cutting off his sentence.

[10] tantou = dagger, mamorigatana = sword to defend oneself with

#touken ranbu #toumyu #Sato Ryuji #Ohira Shunya #Saeki Daichi #Sakiyama Tsubasa #Kitazono Ryo #Japan Expo

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philsdrill · 7 years

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Chapter 16: Not What You Want for Your Birthday

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 6.8k

[Uploads will be approximately every couple of weeks! (hopefully)]

A/N: Announcement - I have a new sideblog, @philsdrill-updates, where I will post only about updates for this fic, so if you want a notification when I update, you can turn on notifications for the blog if you want! Also, next chapter should be sooner rather than later, as I’ve actually written it. This was going to be 11k, but I’ve decided to split it in two (thanks to those who helped me decide). Anyway, enjoy!

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

When the morning arrived, we found another thing for the day’s to-do list. As well as constructing our bed and phoning Dan’s parents, we would also have to go shopping. We’d had no milk for days, and now we were out of bread too. We were almost at the stage of having ice cream for breakfast, but not quite.

We made a trip to Tesco, something that I think Dan and I had only done together once. Usually we used the online ordering system, from the days when the amount of food in the supermarket would be too much for him to cope with. Today, he was feeling up to it, and it would be easier for us to get all of the things we needed without forgetting something.

As we made our way around the shop, I thought about what we would eat for lunch. For days we had been eating the odds and ends we had left in the fridge and freezer, but now we had the opportunity to eat something decent. I’d missed cooking over the last few days, and was excited to get back into the habit of it. I picked up some chicken breasts from the meat aisle, with the intention of coating them, frying them and then using it as a sandwich filler. It would make a change from pre-packaged ham.

We picked up most of the things from our usual weekly shop, and it was just after I had found the KitKats that I noticed Dan spacing out a little.

“You okay?” I asked him, bringing the trolley to a stop next to the Doritos and studying his expression.

“Yeah, this is just a little overwhelming,” he told me, “Too many sweets, too many kinds of potatoes… just…”

“Okay,” I said calmly, “I just need to pick up some new socks and then we can leave.”

I rested one hand on the small of Dan’s back and started to control the trolley with one hand. The excuse of me needing new socks was really just to get him out of the aisles full of food, but now that I thought about it, I realised that I seemed to have lost a number of them recently.

I brought the trolley to a stop in front of the display of socks and picked out a couple of pairs. Dan seemed to be a bit more focused on the world now, so I could tell he was okay, but I thought we should go home. He didn’t seem like he was about to have a panic attack or anything, but then, we never knew.

“Okay, that’s us,” I said, “Anything you’re needing or shall we go to the checkout?”

“I’m good,” Dan said, and started to wander in the direction of the checkouts.

I went ahead of him with the trolley, picked the checkout with the shortest queue, and started to unload the stuff onto the conveyor belt. Dan did help, but he had clearly given me the leading role. I felt a bit like a Dad in the situation, where I was the one speaking to the cashier and loading most of the bags, while Dan was the kid who helped out a little, but mainly stood quietly by the trolley.

However, in Dan helping to pack the bags, there were moments when I was by the trolley and Dan was next to the cashier. She was a lovely lady, who made pleasant small talk and would slow down to let us keep up. As the last few items came through, I was lifting another full bag into the trolley.

“Do you need another bag?” the lady asked Dan.

When Dan didn’t reply, I looked up from the trolley. Dan seemed to be staring into space and the cashier looked over at him, puzzledly.

“Yes please,” I replied, coming over to stand next to Dan.

I nudged his arm gently to bring him back to earth, while I filled the last bag. Dan noticed my nudge, looked a bit dazed, and then wandered back towards the trolley. I passed him the last bag to put in it, and then got my card out to pay.

“Is your friend okay?” the cashier asked me quietly, “He seems a little out if it.”

“He has anxiety,” I told her, not really knowing what else to say, “I think he just needs to get out of here.”

“Okay,” she nodded, not showing any understanding but smiling and passing me my receipt and vouchers, “On you go.”

I pushed the trolley to the car, with Dan lingering by my side. He wasn’t saying a lot, but then he could be quite a quiet person by nature. I brought the trolley to a stop behind my car, unlocked it, and opened up the boot.

“Can I go and sit in the car while you load it?” Dan asked, his voice sounding a little nervous.

“Yeah sure,” I told Dan, knowing that something wasn’t quite right, but not wanting to ask him in this open environment.

I quickly filled up the boot and parked the trolley, and before long I was climbing into the driver’s seat, next to Dan.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, once I had the door shut.

“Nothing, I just… there was a moment where I just got freaked out by the amount of food and I’m fine now, I just needed out of there,” he said, stumbling over his words a little.

“Okay,” I nodded, reaching over and taking his hand, which was trembling a little, “Do you want a drink of water or anything?”

“Did we buy some?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, stretching behind me into the backseat, where I had put one of the six-packs of bottled water.

I brought the packet forwards, opened it and passed Dan a bottle. I put the rest of them back behind me, and looked at Dan, who was taking small sips of the water, but looking relatively calm. I made sure he was good to go, before starting the car and heading back towards home.

–

After putting the shopping away, we started on constructing our bed. It was relatively simple, but due to its size, it took quite a while. We stopped for our fried chicken sandwiches at lunchtime, and I was grateful for the relaxing break that cooking gave me. We finished the bed after lunch, at about three o’clock.

We both lay down on the now completed bed and had a discussion about our plan for later, with our meal out. We decided on exactly which restaurant we were going to, and I called to book a table. I maybe should’ve booked a little earlier in the day, as we had to go for a time that was a little later than ideal; it just meant that I wouldn’t have time to come home before heading to the restaurant where I worked.

Dan and I were both tired, and we could fit in a little nap before going out, but we had one last thing to do first. Call Dan’s parents and see when Adam could come up.

We sat on the bed, with Dan’s phone between us. He made the call and put the phone on speaker so we could both communicate.

After the initial ‘hello’s and ‘how are you’s, we got down to the question, “Now that we’ve moved house and have a spare room, we were thinking we could have Adam up to stay for a few days. We thought it would be good for him and he seemed to like the idea when we spoke a few days ago. When would be good?”

Dan’s parents discussed for a minute or two, and I even heard Adam’s voice in the background. Shouldn’t he be in school? I guess things weren’t too good for him at the moment.

“Would Monday be too soon?” Dan’s mum asked us, “He could come then and stay for the week? It’s the mid-term this coming weekend so he’ll be off Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Monday anyway, and I think realistically he won’t be in school this Monday or Tuesday.”

Dan and I looked at each other and began to nod slowly, both of us agreeing that that was fine.

“That’s fine,” Dan told them, cheerily, “We’ll get the place organised for then. Give us details of his train when you have them.”

We spoke about a few more technical aspects to his visit, but soon we were ending the call with a promise to speak soon.

Dan let out a sigh of relief, “I’m glad that’s organised.”

I set an alarm on Dan’s phone, then we both lay down for a nap. We’d had a long morning, and we were going to need our energy for later. After our meal, I had work, and we were hoping that we’d have the energy for a little intimate time when I got home. Things had been stressful of late and we both needed the release.

–

Dan’s POV:

When we awoke from our nap, Phil and I agreed to take separate showers, knowing we were both lowkey too horny to be in such a steamy environment together. We took a bathroom each, and each got ourselves ready for our date.

It was strange to think, that after being together for all these months, this was our first time going out to a restaurant together. I was a little bit nervous, but I knew I would be fine with Phil by my side.

We arrived at the restaurant, and were very quickly taken to our table. Phil made small talk with the waiter, and even managed to tell the waiter that he was a waiter himself.

After gandering over the menu for a while, Phil and I decided on what we were going to order. We’d share a starter of garlic bread with mozzarella, each have our own main course: creamy Spaghetti Carbonara for Phil and tomatoey Spaghetti al Forno for myself. Neither of us could drink, with me driving and Phil working, so we each ordered a soft drink; Phil went for a bottle of Coke, while I just asked for some tap water. We wouldn’t have to commit to having pudding until later, which was perfectly fine by me.

The garlic bread was nice, but I restricted myself to one piece and let Phil have the other two. I wanted to be able to eat most of my main course. I’d ordered the smaller ‘Starter Portion’, but I still had a feeling that I was going to struggle.

Phil and I had made the agreement not to talk about anything stressful over dinner. The subjects of house moving, anxiety, illness and my brother’s soulmate issues were all off the cards, unless of course something came up and we had to speak about them.

We spoke about more simple matters, light-hearted conversation that seemed perfect for a date, without making things too serious.

We briefly discussed the weekend, and how the plan was to go to Phil’s parents house on Saturday, have our evening meal, then stay over into Sunday. I again asked Phil if he knew what we’d be eating, but he wasn’t able to tell me much more than the last time.

“My mum says it’s a surprise,” Phil told me, “But she says she kept you in mind, when deciding on it. She won’t tell me, but if you want to speak to her on the phone, she might tell you.”

“I might do that,” I told him, “It’s not that I don’t trust her, I’d just rather know.”

When had finished our main courses, and the dessert menu came around, I made the decision to stop where I was. There was only so much food by body could handle, and I felt I was already a bit too close to that limit. However, I persuaded Phil that he should order a pudding, that I shouldn’t hold him back from having something that he loved.

When Phil’s ice cream sundae arrived, he asked the waiter if we could have a second spoon. I could see Phil was going to offer me a little bit, and I felt that I could accept his offer as long as it wasn’t too much. Phil did offer me some ice cream, and while I didn’t have a lot, I did enjoy my little sample.

We finished the meal off with a coffee, or rather a latte for Phil and a hot chocolate for myself. I wasn’t going to risk having any coffee induced anxiety to put a downer on our night, I’d have to make do with the energy from our nap.

Phil paid the bill, giving the waiter a tip, and we made our way out of the restaurant, feeling satisfied and full of food. There was a slight anxious feeling in the back of my mind, but I knew what I’d eaten wasn’t particularly unhealthy, and that I was allowed to treat myself from time to time.

Having a little time to spare before Phil’s work, we took a walk around a nearby park together to get some fresh air, a pleasant thing to do after being in warm restaurant full of food smells. Although a little cold, it was peaceful, and just what I needed to ease my mind. Phil and I held hands as we strolled around, and may have partaken in the cheesy romantic fantasy of kissing against a tree next to a stream.

As I drove Phil to his work, I reminded myself that our night wasn’t over yet. We’d have more time together when Phil came home, and we’d made an agreement about what we’d be doing. Obviously, if something changed and one of us was too tired, we’d put it off until the morning, but everything was looking good; Phil and I were well rested and we were looking forward to later on. I could certainly feel the lust in my veins, recently having found myself aroused by the smallest things.

I dropped Phil off at his restaurant, pressing another kiss to his cheek before he got out of the car. I told him I loved him, and reminded that I’d see him in a few hours, when I came to pick him up.

I drove Phil’s car back to our flat, and parked it in our assigned space. I made my way up to the second floor alone and let myself into our flat. I occupied myself with a bit of unpacking and tidying for a while, but I was distracted. I knew what Phil and I were planning when he came back, and I wanted to do a little preparation.

It had been a while since Phil and I did anything in that department, and I knew I would be way too tight to stretch quickly. To make things easier for both of us later on, I was going to get myself prepped a little in advance. After a bit of searching through boxes to find what I was looking for, I eventually made my way to Phil and I’s bedroom, armed with a dildo, some lube and a towel I didn’t mind getting a little messy.

I started with my fingers, coating them liberally in the slippery substance and slowly pushing in and apart. It was a very slow process, as I’d predicted, and it took a while before I found myself feeling comfortable enough to take something bigger. I was humming and hawing about using the dildo, knowing that I did risk getting carried away when I wanted to save myself for later. Eventually I decided that I would go for it, let myself adjust to the stretch, then take it out and leave things there.

I lowered myself onto it, biting my lip as the stretch was a little more than I’d expected. Eventually I bottomed out, and all I wanted to do was start fucking myself on it, but I mustered all my self control and kept still, saving myself for Phil. Another wave of arousal struck me, and I knew I had to take it out and distance myself from the idea. I slowly pulled the toy back out, and lay it to the side on the towel. I took a few deep breaths and stood up from the bed to retrieve my underwear.

I’d just pulled my boxers back up when suddenly my head felt a little fuzzy. I suddenly felt really really anxious and I didn’t know why.

I sank to the floor; I think I may have forgotten how to stand as my mind was elsewhere. After talking a few deep breaths and focusing on what was going on in my head, I realised that I was worrying about Phil.

Was Phil sick?

Phil never got sick though; I hadn’t felt anything through our bond since I was about eight. The more I tried to recall that time, I started to realise that this was how it felt.

So was Phil sick?

I guess we’d never quite got to the bottom of him feeling ill before we moved; maybe it was connected.

Suddenly I realised there was only really one way to figure out if he was okay. I got up, grabbed my phone from the bedside table and called Phil.

As the phone rang, I pulled my t-shirt back on, knowing that I may have to go and pick Phil up if this was what I thought. I froze and paid my utmost attention to the phone when I heard Phil pick up.

“Dan?” Phil answered, his voice sounding rough and a little shaky, almost immediately confirming my suspicions.

“Phil, I felt it; you’ve been sick, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Phil said, his voice trembling and catching in his throat, “I wasn’t feeling good so Chris is taking care of my tables and I came back to the break room and now -”

Phil paused, and over the phone I heard a bit of what sounded like him throwing up. He let out a pained moan and sighed.

“I’m getting ready to come and pick you up,” I told Phil, putting the phone on speaker and putting on a pair of joggies and some shoes.

“T-thanks,” Phil responded, but sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

“Try and keep yourself together for me,” I told him, “Should I bring a bucket?”

A hesitant ‘maybe’ from Phil was all I needed to know that the answer was yes. I kept him on the line so I could hear how he was doing, grabbed the bucket and my keys and made my way down to the car.

I had to end the call to drive there, but I told Phil I’d be there in five minutes. He choked out something about me finding either Chris or his manager and one of them would take me to him.

I made my way to the restaurant as fast as I safely and legally could. I was worried about Phil, and needed to be by his side as quickly as possible. I got hit by a particularly strong wave of worry after turning into the main road, and found myself struggling to pay attention to the road.

I didn’t really want to, but I pulled over to let it pass, knowing that if I kept going, I would be in a lot of danger. I took a couple of deep breaths, feeling a little nauseous myself. It hurt to know that Phil was struggling so much and I couldn’t be there with him.

Once I felt a little calmer, I started the car back up and continued on my way. I felt some relief come over me as I turned into the restaurant car park, knowing that Phil wasn’t far away now.

I pulled into the disabled space right next to the building, because fuck it, Phil was really sick and wouldn’t be up for walking very far.

I leapt out of the car, locked it and headed towards the door, not caring about my horrendously untidy parking. I doubted I’d be here long enough for anyone to complain.

Heading into the restaurant, I spotted Phil’s boss standing by the 'please wait here to be seated’ sign. I made my way over to him, ready with my question about Phil. He was probably ready for me to enquire about getting a table, but I was about to throw him off his routine.

“Hi, I’m Dan, Phil’s soulmate,” I introduced myself, “Could you take me to him?”

“Yeah, Chris told me he wasn’t feeling too good, so he’s back in the breakroom,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him, “Did he call you?”

“No I called him,” I told him, “I felt it through our bond.”

“From what I heard from Phil, I thought it was just when the other threw up, not just…” he paused, “Oh wait, has he thrown up?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “And more than once. I’m guessing you’ve got a toilet back there?”

“Yeah we do,” he said, looking a little perplexed, “Do you know what’s wrong? Do you think he’s picked up a stomach bug from somewhere? Sorry to sound arrogant but hygiene is very important here.”

“I’m pretty confident this is connected to him being ill last week, and whatever’s wrong, he’s not contagious because I’m absolutely fine,” I told him, “And I completely understand why you’re asking.”

“Okay good,” he said, looking relieved.

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s a food allergy or something,” I explained, as we walked through a door marked ‘staff only’ at the back of the restaurant, “Because he seems to feel ill sometimes after he’s eaten, but he’s been fine for a couple of days. I’m going to take him to the doctor, probably tomorrow unless he’s really bad.”

“Could you find someone else to take his shift tomorrow?” I asked him, “I somehow don’t think he’ll be up for it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Phil’s boss replied, “I’ll get someone organised, can’t have him working like this.”

He pushed open a door, which lead into what was clearly the staff breakroom and cloakroom area. There were coat hooks, lockers, and a number of tables and chairs. At one side of the room, there were two doors labelled as toilets.

I followed the manager across to the door with a mens’ symbol on it. The door creaked open as he pushed it, and he called out Phil’s name, “Phil?”

A rough sounding ‘yeah?’ came from the end cubicle, and I heard Phil shuffling around a little.

“Dan’s here,” he said, “I’d better get back to the front desk, so I’ll leave you two to it. I hope you feel better soon.”

The boss left, and I wandered over to just outside of the toilet door.

“Phil?” I asked timidly, “Do you want to let me in?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Phil replied.

I heard the toilet roll spin round and rip a couple of times, then the toilet flush. Phil then opened the door, whilst still sitting on the floor. I entered the cubicle and crouched down next to him. He was resting his head on the wall next to the toilet, and he looked incredibly pale.

“You’ve been sick, what, three times?” I asked him.

Phil nodded, “I still feel like I’m going to throw up again though.”

I gently rested my hand on Phil’s back, “You can have as long here as you need, but I’ve got a bucket in the car so we can get you home when you’re ready.”

“S-stay a bit longer,” Phil stammered.

“Sure thing,” I said, slowly rubbing my hand up and down his back.

“I think I either ate something bad or something didn’t agree with me,” Phil groaned, rubbing his stomach.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “It might not be, but I think this could be connected to how you felt before we moved. Like I think there’s something you’re eating that you’re maybe allergic to or something.”

“You think?” Phil asked, “But what? I tried not eating some things but it didn’t make a difference.”

“I think we should take you to the Doctor tomorrow and see if we can get the answer to that,” I told him, “But for now I think we should get you home to your own toilet and bed.”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded miserably.

“You want to get up and go then?” I asked him, “D'you think you’ll be able to keep the rest of the contents of your stomach in there until we get outside?”

“Hopefully,” Phil told me, “But can I get a hand up?”

I got up, then helped Phil to his feet. I brought my arms firmly around his waist to steady him, and we walked out into the sink area.

Phil wearily washed his hands, and I splashed some water onto his face, wiping some residue from his chin. After I’d washed and dried my hands, he returned to my side like a lost puppy, tired and barely able to stand on his own.

“You good to go?” I asked Phil, bringing my arm around his shoulders.

“I guess,” he said, “Can we go out the back door though? I don’t want to walk through the restaurant, feeling like this.”

“Sure,” I nodded, “You’ll need to show me the way though.”

Phil and I turned towards the back of the restaurant as we came out the room. We passed a number of doors, one of which was open and led into the kitchen. We hurried past this one as the food smells were a bit much, making Phil retch and clamp a hand over his mouth.

Phil pushed open the back door and hurried outside, bending over next to the wall and holding his stomach and his throat. Despite looking like he was about to, Phil didn’t throw up, and managed to take a few deep breaths and stand up straight again.

I helped Phil over to the car, which was fortunately just about as close as it could be. I opened the passenger door for him and let him get in, before handing him the bucket I’d brought.

“Let’s hope you don’t need that,” I said to him, “But it saves your car getting messy if you do.”

I went around the car and got back into the driver’s seat. I started the car, and started back home. Phil was next to me, clutching the bucket for dear life, looking very uncomfortable. There were a couple of speed bumps on the road into our apartments, which I hadn’t particularly taken any note of before now. I drove carefully over both, but the second one was too much for Phil, resulting in him making use of the bucket after all.

I kept going, pulling into our parking space less than a minute later, where I was finally able to comfort Phil. He wasn’t coping too well, choking out tears and strangled words.

“I feel so ill,” he cried, “Make it stop. I feel sick going over speed bumps at the best of times, but I just…”

“Phil, it’s okay,” I told him, trying to comfort him as he was panicking, “You’re going to be okay. Let’s go upstairs and get you some medicine and some water. We’ll go to the doctors tomorrow. Tonight probably won’t be great, but we’ll get to the bottom of this soon.”

Phil nodded, wiping tears away from his eyes and sniffling a little. I got out of the car and headed round to the other side to help him out. It was scary how my usually strong and happy Phil, was now trembling and in tears. I wish this didn’t have to happen to him. This time it was me helping him up the stairs to our flat, him being the weak one in the situation, the one who needed the support of his soulmate to lean on.

I helped the shaking Phil out of his work clothes and into some pyjamas; my first priority was getting him comfortable, so he didn’t have to get up again in five minutes. I got him to sit down in bed with his bucket while I fetched some medicine. I had to hastily move my things from earlier out of the way, but not without Phil noticing.

“Oh god, you were getting all prepared and everything, I’m sorry,” Phil blurted.

“Yeah, I was,” I admitted, “Don’t worry about it though. You’re ill; I can wait.”

I found the tablets that Phil had sneakily got from the pharmacy, and a bottle of water. I brought them to him, and sat by his side as he took them.

“Hopefully, those will help you feel better,” I said, putting an arm around him and getting ready to stay with him for a while.

His symptoms didn’t seem to be easing much after half an hour, and I made the decision to get him some paracetamol to try and ease the pain. He had adopted a variety of different positions over the last thirty minutes, and his current one was laying on his side, with his arms wrapped around his stomach, a look of intense discomfort on his face.

After Phil took the paracetamol,a thought struck me. Would some food disagreeing with him really put him in this much pain? Could it be something more serious like appendicitis? Or a stomach ulcer like I’d had?

Was there a way I could figure out the difference? Should I take him to hospital? It wasn’t something I wanted to have to do, but then, I didn’t really know what to do.

Phil let out another grunt of pain - the paracetamol was yet to kick in - when a thought crossed my mind. Who would’ve dealt with Phil being ill many more times than I had? His mum.

Despite technically being an adult myself, I was still young, and there were still times I needed help from someone older and more experienced with the things life throws at us. I took Phil’s phone from his bedside table, and informed him that I was going to call his mum. He tried to protest at that, but he didn’t really have the energy to utter anything more than a simple 'no’.

“Hi Phil,” Phil’s mum greeted as she picked up the phone.

“It’s Dan,” I told her.

I don’t know if it was something in the tone of my voice, or whether it was because I was calling rather than Phil, but she immediately noticed that something was up.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“N-not really,” I stuttered, feeling my own panic rising in my throat, “Phil’s really sick and I’ve given him medicine but he doesn’t really seem better, and I’ve just given him paracetamol because his stomach hurts a lot but I’ve just thought, what if it’s something worse and I don’t know if I should take him to hospital or…”

“Dan,” she said, in a soothing motherly voice that made me feel a little better, “Keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll come over and see. I’ll be there in about ten minutes, okay?”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a little less panicky now that I knew an adult who could help was on the way.

I hung up the call to Phil’s mum and returned to Phil’s side, “You’re mum’s coming over. I need someone to confirm I’m doing the right things.”

I took some deep breaths to calm myself down, running my hand through Phil’s soft, fluffy hair. He relaxed a little under my touch, so I kept at it, hoping he would start to feel better soon.

When Phil’s mum arrived, I got up to let her in, and spent a couple of minutes explaining the context of the situation: what Phil ate for dinner, how long ago it is was and how he’d been a bit ill before the move. We even spoke about the specifics such as how many times he’d vomited and whether he was displaying any other symptoms.

“Dan, you go and take a couple of minutes to yourself in the living room,” she suggested, “I’m going to go in and see him, but I want you to try and calm yourself down a little.”

I went to the living room but found myself pacing around, rather than trying to relax and calm down. What if it was something really serious and I just hadn’t picked up on it? I stopped myself and took a couple of deep breaths. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. I tried to tell myself that, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. My throat felt tight, and I was starting to feel the slightly nauseous feeling that sometimes came with an anxiety attack.

I realised that I should take my anxiety relief tablets before things got worse; I had to stay strong for Phil. The only snag was they were in our en-suite bathroom, and getting to them meant interrupting Phil’s mum as she checked up on him.

Steeling myself with the knowledge that this was my house and I could go where I pleased, I pushed open the door and walked into our bedroom. Phil’s mum was sitting on the bed next to him, one hand resting on the lump in the duvet that was his leg.

“Sorry I just need to get my anxiety medication from the bathroom,” I rushed, explaining my intrusion.

I hurried into the bathroom, grabbed the tablets and hurried back through again. I took them to the kitchen, where I steadied myself against the counter as I filled myself a glass of water.

I downed the tablets and a few glugs of water, then forced myself to sit down on one of the sofas in the living room. I felt myself twitching, my anxiety wanting to get up and pace around and panic. I fought against it, trying to regulate my breathing while taking sips of water.

I was still shaking a bit when Phil’s mum came in, and I had adopted a blanket to wear as an extra layer.

“Dan, are you okay?” She asked, “Phil was concerned when you came in to get your…?”

“Anxiety medication,” I finished for her, “I’m fine, I’m just feeling a bit panicky and it’ll stop me getting worse. Is Phil okay? I’m worried and I was finding it difficult not to think the worst.”

“He doesn’t have a temperature, so that rules out a lot of things,” she told me, “I’ve spoken to him about it, and it seems likely that something he ate didn’t like him. I think you should take him to the doctor’s tomorrow and see if they can help figure out what’s happened. As for tonight, I think he’ll be okay; just keep an eye on him. Make sure that he’s breathing okay, because breathing difficulties could mean a serious allergy, but I think that would have sprung up already if it was an issue. If he gets worse, get him to the hospital and phone me, but I think he’s going to be fine.”

I nodded, feeling relief that she thought he was fine. I was still a little anxious, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked me, “You don’t want me to stay over for support?”

“I’ll be fine,” I told her, “I just needed someone else’s opinion on what to do. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said, “Anytime, well hopefully that won’t be needed, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I’m going to back and see Phil, but do you want a cup of tea or anything?”

“Yeah, tea would be great, but I can help myself,” she told me, “I know you won’t want to leave Phil for too long.”

Thanking her for understanding, I headed for our bedroom. I slowly pushed open the door, and walked over to the bed, where Phil was now sitting up again.

“Hey,” I said to him, “Your mum thinks you’re okay too which is relieving.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I don’t feel it, but I trust her judgement. Are you okay? I was a bit worried when you rushed in for your anxiety stuff.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I told him, “I was just a bit worried and I could feel it coming and I didn’t want to have an anxiety attack.”

“I’d ask you to come here and I’d give you a hug, but you probably don’t want that as I’m all sick and gross,” Phil commented, laughing slightly.

“I don’t mind,” I said, hopping up onto the bed and sliding across to him, “Though you’re the one who needs the hug.”

I wrapped my arms loosely around Phil, still giving him the freedom to move if he needed to. He didn’t seem to relax particularly as I noticed he was still holding his bucket with a death grip.

“Relax,” I mumbled to him, “Being all tensed up isn’t going to help. Are you feeling any better?”

“I don’t feel so much like I’m going to throw up now,” he told me, “My stomach still feels all wobbly though.”

“Do you think we can put this bucket down then?” I asked him.

“I think so…” he said, a little uncertainly.

“Okay,” I said, taking it from him and lowering it to the floor next to the bed, “Tell me if you feel you need it again; we’ll keep it within reach.”

“Thanks,” Phil sighed, now leaning back against me tiredly.

I returned my arms to their position around Phil, and slid one up his shirt a little to rest on his stomach. I knew a cool hand sometimes made it feel a little better, but I wasn’t going any further, because the likes of a stomach massage would probably make him feel worse.

“What will we do about my birthday and Adam coming?” Phil asked, out of the blue.

“What about them?” I asked, a little confused.

“Like if I’m not better?” Phil explained.

“Your mum knows you’re sick; I’m sure all we’ll need to do is tell her if you’re not up for it,” I said, “And as for Adam; he won’t be coming until Monday and this is only Thursday, so you have plenty time to get better.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil agreed.

Phil’s mum suddenly poked her head around the door, “Either of you want tea?”

I looked to Phil first, before answering for myself, “We bought chamomile this morning; it might help your stomach a little?”

“Okay,” Phil nodded.

“Yeah if you could make us each a cup of chamomile tea, that would be great,” I told her, “No milk or anything though.”

Once Phil’s mum was away again, Phil snuggled further into me, “I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, we should get to bed once your mum leaves, I’m getting sleepy from my medicine too,” I admitted.

When Phil’s mum came back with the three cups of tea, we all sat and drank it together, Phil and I cuddled together at the top of the bed, and Phil’s mum sitting on a chair near the bottom. Phil seemed to be nursing his tea happily, it not having any negative effects. In fact, I’d say a little colour was starting to return to his cheeks.

I think Phil’s mum noticed that we were both tired, as, as soon as she’d finished her tea, she was saying that she’d better be off. I got up to let her out and lock up, but as soon as she was gone, I rejoined Phil in bed. We were both exhausted and happy to go to sleep straight away.

However, I had to do a couple of things first; I had to set an alarm for the morning, so that I could call the doctor’s and arrange Phil an appointment before anyone else got in there. I also made sure things were on hand if Phil got sick again in the night. The bucket remained on the floor next to his bed, and I made sure he had a glass of water on his bedside table.

Phil and I laid down, but I waited until he was asleep before letting myself shut my eyes. There was nothing worse than being alone and awake at night when you were ill. I’d been there many times myself, and knew that having someone watching over you was very comforting.

I refrained from holding Phil close, giving him some space in case he needed to get up. I shut my eyes and hoped with all my might that he would feel better tomorrow.

Next Chapter =>

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