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neonfuturelove · 2 years

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Two Years On; DR3

Part one: Two Years On//Part two: Two Years Ago//Part three: Battle of the Exes

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x you

Summary: you find out your ex is back in town and have the awkward first meeting, just lots of angst really and more to come

Warnings: swearing/mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: tysm for the likes on my sneak peek yesterday!! this is my first piece of fictional writing in a long, long, time. Please forgive any mistakes!! I already have other parts of this story written so if this goes okay then I'll carry on posting :)

gif credit

Sunday; currently being spent mostly horizontal on the sofa, endlessly scrolling through your phone. You were already onto your second romcom of the day, reeling from the spontaneous romances between two unexpecting strangers that made you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. A hazy sun crept through the blinds, the temperature in Australia beginning to creep up in August. A video of a cat parkouring around a house piqued your interest enough to earn a slight puff of air to escape your nose, truly riveting content.

“Yo!” Harriet made her arrival known as she entered the apartment you both shared. Craning your neck to look over the back of the sofa, she was placing grocery shopping on the kitchen countertop and began unloading and packing things away into various cupboards. “I see you’re having a productive morning,” waving a packet of sweets you’d requested before she left, you flashed a smile and settled back down on to the sofa. You proudly shared the achievement of moving from your bedroom to the sofa whilst she’d been shopping.

“Guess who I saw while I was out…” raising her eyebrows at you expectantly waiting a nonsensical list of names.

“The president? No, No! Shawn Mendes? Did he finally track me down?” Sarcastic yet hopeful that this time it may be true.

“Girl,” Harriet shut a cupboard door and turned to you, “you have to got to let the fantasy go.” Ignoring her dream crushing response you waited for her to share the mystery person. “But no, wrong. It was, er…” Harriet paused. You sat up and looked at her leaning on the kitchen counter, head dropped between her shoulders causing you to frown at her hesitation. Nudging her to give up the answer, she looked up with a hint of sympathy and nervous energy in her eyes, “Danny Ric.”

You swallowed. Feeling your face drop no matter how you tried to compose yourself. “Well,” you attempted to respond, not quite knowing how exactly the feeling you carried in that moment, “it must be summer break.” The best you could come up with in attempt to brush it off, even though you knew you couldn’t fool Harriet. She walked over, lifting up your feet and placing them on her lap as she sat beside you. Your focus was solely on the crappy romantic film with overly cheesy couples parading their romance around.

“He looked good,” she sighed which you only reacted to with a shrug refusing to break eye contact with the television. “He asked how you were,” caution was in her voice.

“Good for him,” a curt reply, hoping she’d take a hint. Harriet fidgeted slightly, her stare burning through the side of your head. “He’ll just be visiting his family,” you stated, attempting to sound a little friendlier to break the tension you held.

“Well yeah, I just thought, you know…” Harriet was dancing around the subject and you had a wash of guilt for making her uncomfortable when she hadn’t done anything wrong, she was just trying to protect and warn you he was home for the first time in a long time. Along with the guilt was the relief that you hadn’t joined her on the spontaneous shopping trip, saving yourself from an unexpected run in with the man who broke your heart. “You haven’t seen him since…”

Sitting up you crossed your legs looking at her with a tight-lipped smile, “Sorry, I just… kind of wish my Shawn Mendes prediction was correct right about now,” trying to provide a bit of comic relief to ease the tension you felt. “Did he say anything else?” Your brows furrowed together with a small flutter thinking about him; he’d asked about you but you had a slight hope that perhaps he’d mentioned he missed you or looked sad when he mentioned your name.

Harriet shared how he seemed slightly nervous to talk to her obviously knowing your friendship, how he looked a lot leaner from what she could remember but still in good shape, how he was home to see his family and spend some quiet time before jetting off somewhere. Harriet reeled off a few other details but all you could wonder was how his eyes had looked. Did they look happy or sad? Tired and overworked? That’s how you remembered him mostly looking in your final months together. You could tell everything from his dark eyes that were always sprinkled with a glimmer of his emotions. You suddenly longed to catch a glimpse of him yourself.

“He asked if we were going to Tommy’s party tonight,” bringing your attention back immediately. “I obviously told him that we were because.. we are, right?” Harriet quizzed, that was the plan but did that mean he was going? If Tommy knew he was home then undoubtedly he’d be invited considering the friend group was mostly made up of school friendships spanning over a decade. “He said he wasn’t sure if he should go,” Harriet had a sad look on her face and I couldn’t work out if her sympathy lied with yourself or Dan.

“Why wouldn’t he go?” you questioned; Harriet gave a small shrug with one of her shoulders but we both knew the answer to the question.

++++++

“Ladies,” Tommy extending his arm into his house as you arrived, “here, I’ll take them.” Tommy was a big friendly giant; he wouldn’t hurt a fly but all the time he spent working out on his physique meant he could easily hurt something much bigger than an insect if he so pleased. You handed over the bottles not wanting to turn up empty handed before you began to follow Harriet through the house to voices coming from the back garden. Tommy gently touched your arm earning your attention, Harriet continuing ahead. “You got a minute?” He asked quietly, the daunting fact that Dan could already be in the back garden when you head out there suddenly rose. Harriet had already prepared you with a large gin before you left the house and reeled off some independent women quotes, but you drew the line when she started playing Kelly Clarkson’s Since You Been Gone from the speakers. Granted, all of her support had helped you feel prepared until this very moment.

“It’s fine, Tommy,” shaking your head with a small smile not wanting to create an awkward atmosphere; you certainly did not feel fine but you would be damned to show it. “Harriet bumped into him this morning, it’s fine,” trying to sound as convincing as possible.

“Well, he’s not here just yet and I don’t know if he will be, I just wanted you to know he might, you know,” both you and Tommy noticed your shoulders visibly relax. He’s not here, thank God. “Tell Jonny I’m fetching his beer now, he’s probably complaining of dehydration in the two minutes I’ve been gone, the tosser.” Tommy had a skill of making everybody feel at ease and left you to join the rest of your friends outside to find a predictable Jonny proclaiming he was parched and how ‘you can’t get the service these days’.

Two hours had passed since your arrival and every time a shadow appeared in the doorway to outside you braced yourself for it being Dan but seemingly those who were making the effort to come had already arrived. Selfishly, a part of you felt disappointed he hadn’t turned up. There wasn’t anything you wanted to say, there was no want or need to bash against his toned chest and yell at him until you were crying but to be able to see him and know you’d made it through the worst breakup and show him you were okay would feel like an accomplishment.

You downed your gin balloon and excused yourself from around the fire pit, promising Harriet a refill on your way back from the bathroom. You made your way upstairs to the bathroom, using the mirror to assist you in dabbing a spot of lipstick across your lips where the colour had transferred onto the drink straws and tying your hair back into a low bun, the night’s breeze had picked up slightly and it was looking more dishevelled than earlier before heading into the kitchen to mix another round of drinks.

There was a table that had an array of various bottles on it, searching around for the orange gin you and Harriet had been drinking all night which had seemingly disappeared. Opening the fridge expecting to find it in there chilling, puzzled you shut the door-

“You after this?” The voice from behind made you jump, your hand going to your chest as you spun around to find Dan.

“Hey,” was all you managed to get out as he stood there in front of you for the first time since he’d left you. The perfect Dan cut-out, oversized party shirt, ripped skinny jeans and vans. His skin still had a caramel glow, his curls were a lot shorter than you remembered but his eyes, they hadn’t changed at all. “Erm, yeah. Actually, I was,” you inhaled, the pair of you stood facing each other in silence. An ache in your chest rose just from looking at him, it felt reminiscent of the pain you harboured for months after your break-up. It hurt you that in that moment you couldn’t get a read on him no matter how much you looked into his deep brown eyes.

He walked over to the cupboard, picked a glass out and filled it with a plentiful amount of orange gin. Watching almost in disbelief he was right here in front of you, the first time in two years. “Excusez-moi,” Dan broke your thoughts, taking a step away from the fridge suddenly not sure where to put yourself you chose to just linger in the silence. “Here,” Dan held out the glass toward you, looking between the glass and his eyes, “Orange gin and lemonade, right?” Dan asked, doubt washing over his face.

“Right, yeah, thanks,” Taking the glass from his hands, you consciously tried to avoid touching his hands in the exchange. Your eyes glanced over his tattoos that sat on his skin, you wondered if he had any new additions and where about they were if he had. You stood in place looking down at the drink in your hands still not knowing what to do. There was a time in your relationship where you almost got his race number permanently inked on your skin, forever grateful that the rational part of your brain kicked in and avoided doing so.

“You look good,” Dan popped the lid off his beer and took a swig. You coyly thanked him for the compliment even though it felt like polite small talk. It felt strange, never having had to make small talk with Dan for as long as you’d known him.

“Are you making those bloody dri-” Harriet barged through the door to find you both stood facing one another in silence, “oh, heeey,” she drawled out awkwardly. “You know, it’s fine- I’ll just… drink from the pond, you two carry on,” you shot her a look that read what the fuck before she darted back out the kitchen.

You looked up at Dan feeling as though you had reverted back to teenagers getting second-hand embarrassment from your friend in front of a crush, “Well, that’s a new one even for her,” you quipped.

Dan had a smirk on his face, clearly amused by Harriet’s quick entrance and exit. “Least we know where to find her when she passes out later,” his infectious toothy grin on display, your lips couldn’t help but twitch up into their own smile.

“We were always good at tracking her down in the end,” the sudden nostalgia stung; typically the nights you both had to pick up Harriet and head home were filled of drinking, dancing, kissing, teasing, the touches. You suspected Dan felt the same as his face seemed to solemn as quickly as your own. The tension between you became undeniable; you didn’t know whether to turn and run, pray the world swallowed you whole or spontaneously combust under his gaze.

“Can we talk?” Dan questioned, cutting through the tension with his words. His eyes looking at you pleadingly. You knew ‘the talk’ was inevitable but you didn’t think he’d attempt to have the conversation here and now. Your mouth opened with silence but the shake of your head instinctively answered him. “Please,” he added.

“I just- I don’t think there’s anything to say,” you avoided his eyes knowing you’d crumble under their gaze.

“I disagree,” he countered, “I just think we left it a little… fucked.” Dan swallowed; your heart dropped thinking back to the night. “Not we; me. I did. I… I fucked it.” Your heart swelled at the admission but you couldn’t engage in the conversation without emotions getting involved, emotions you didn’t want Dan to witness right now.

“It was a long time ago,” you attempted to brush it off casually but standing here with him now made it feel like yesterday. Dan nodded slowly and let out a sigh admitting defeat in the current situation, he stepped beside you and head outside to join the group without saying another word. A crushing feeling overcame you. Perhaps two years wasn’t enough time to get over the love of your life after all.

Harriet re-entered the kitchen, assuming she’d seen Dan exit the house without you in tow. You were sipping from your straw from the gin Dan had made for you. “How was the pond water?” You smirked toward her; you wouldn’t let her forget that one for a while. Harriet pulled a face back at you before over exaggerating making her own drink that you’d promised. “Sorry, was kind of caught off guard there,” you acknowledged.

Harriet shared how Dan had arrived whilst you were in the bathroom, how she thought he definitely scanned the fire pit to see if you were here and he’d probably and correctly assumed the empty seat next to her was indeed for you. Apparently she had debated whether to rugby tackle across everyone around the fire pit to try and reach the bathroom before you walked out to him but ultimately decided an article she’d read on exposure therapy would be more beneficial.

“I cannot say I would recommend exposure therapy to everyone in that case,” you rolled your eyes. “He wanted to talk but I managed to avoid it.”

For now, at least.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 fic

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trynatalktou · 3 years

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Thanks to the kind anon who sent me a prompt asking for a fluffy fic with pregnant Cha-Young.

Sorry for doing this instead.

Canon divergent. Set before episode 16.

Also this is absolutely crack, but a Geumga Plaza themed one at that! Enjoy!!

Vincenzo could feel that there had been a switch in the atmosphere of Toto's restaurant since the very moment he stepped in.

There was a fragile sense of anticipation surrounding the room - waiting for the possibility of being disrupted by the the slightest wrong movement.

And without Cha-young by his side- who had to make herself absent due to yet another medical appointment- on this particular weekly lunch with the tenants, their watchful eyes (tracking what appeared to be his every single movement) were starting to become quite overbearing.

"What is it this time?" He sighed.

The bubble bursted.

"Ms. Hong has been pregnant for how long now?"

Vincenzo chokes on thin air.

Mr. Ahn was promptly by his side, offering assistance while he coughed violently.

"What do you think you are doing Suk-Do? They would tell us when they're ready." Mrs. Kwak reprimands.

At the opposite corner of the table, Jang Yeon-Jin frowned. In contrast to what appeared to be everyone in the room - including her husband - she did not suspect Cha-young to be pregnant, truth be told, considering the increased amount of time she got to spend with the lawyer in the last weeks, (which despite starting as an accident, turned out to be something she always looked forward to) and all the 'girl talk' they got to share over it, she considered herself to be quite certain of the fact that Hong Cha-Young was pretty much, not pregnant.

Weird.

"We...what?" Vincenzo half-shouts, straining the words out and catching everyone's attention. His voice still hoarse from the coughing fit. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

The panic in his eyes makes everyone freeze in realization.

"Oh God, oh no" Chef Toto utters while making several sign crosses in sequence.

Hell breaks loose.

There is a lot screaming, a little bit of crying - fingers being pointed and Suk Do pleading him to not cut his off.

Vincenzo and Yeon-Jin stand there like statues amidst the chaos, completely perplexed. He sends her a look that asks a question - he is not sure which one - but she simply shrugs.

"People calm down, he won't kill us, we are kind of doing him a favor?" Ju-Nam reasons weakly.

"Cha-young will if he doesn't." Miss Yang deadpans.

The entirety of the room winces.

Not that the discussion of who would be the one to end up doing it mattered to Vincenzo at all with a turmoil going through his head; words of doubt and reasurrements of impossibility twisting and clashing against each other in a mess that leaves a metallic taste of fear in his mouth.

He shakes his head violently to snap out of it, taking a sip of water to calm down.

"Oh my God! What if he is not the father? Young-Ho exclaims.

What a perfect timing.

Vincenzo chokes again, sputtering water all over Mr. Nam.

Before he even gets a chance to say anything - which was probably for the best when it comes to his dignity - the boy's mom gives him a well-centered smack on the head.

"Of course he is the father, you idiot, who else could it even be." Mrs. Kwak affirms determined.

Vincenzo feels himself blush crimson. He groans.

"Could I know why on earth-" he says through gritted teeth "you all think that Mrs. Hong is pregnant?".

The tenants share a look of unsureness, but ultimately, just nod their heads with some reluctance.

"The constant trips to the Doctor." Mr. Tak starts.

Vincenzo's left eye twitches.

"The nausea she has been having constantly these days." Mr. Nam continues, still wiping his clothes and face.

His arms starts to tingle.

"The whole thing about trying to avoid drinking as much as before"

Is it possible to beat himself up?

"And most importantly, this ultrasound she dropped out of her bag the other day." Larry finishes by throwing the picture on the middle of the table.

Yeon-Jin freezes. Oh no.

A series of gasps can be heard.

"Why are you all gasping? You already knew this." Mr. Nam asks exasperated.

Vincenzo feels his chest thighten, so that's it, that's how he goes after all - of course it would end up being because of Hong Cha-young.

Just at this moment, the bell at the door sounds.

"Hello everyone, how ar- what the hell happened here?" Cha-young cries out.

Vincenzo can't take it anymore.

"Mrs. Hong, are you pregnant?". " he hears himself demands in a voice that sounds like the very depths of despair themselves.

Cha-young laughs, only downright laughs.

Until she alarmingly notices that she is the only one to find it funny - everybody is the table is holding their breaths, staring at her expectantly.

"No, why woul-" but then - and she can pinpoints it as the moment she abruptly stops talking - she sees Yeo-Jin, shaking her head and silently begging. The ultrasound she lost is laid out on the table - and that's all she needs to click the pieces of the puzzle together.

Cha-young doesn't even have to think twice to make up her mind. And so on, she takes a deep sigh, and prepares herself to do one of the many things she is able to do the best: she acts her heart out.

Tears swell up quickly on her eyes as she gasps:

"How- how did you find out?"

And just like that, as a direct consequence of it, Vincenzo Cassano - the great Consigliere of the Cassano family and dangerous mafia man - faints.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #I didn't let it clear if Vincenzo and Cha-young are together during this because I couldn't make up my mind in which scenario is funnier #Also I am and was super sleep deprived while writing this #I will correct my mistakes and nonsense in the morning sorry #Geumga Plaza #All the geumga plaza peeps here who would have thought that writing a fic with a lot of characters would be hard #everyone probably #i really went from two to twelve lol #anyways take this thanks #Also if this fic leaves you with some questions please ask them away #i can and will answer them all #probably #just kidding i will #most likely #can u tell im drunk lol

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theewokingdead · 3 years

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Wonderful Tonight Pt. 2 - Eternal Sunshine (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Part One

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: 18+. Language. Fluff. Angst. Light teasing. A lot of cheesiness. A lot of relationship nonsense. Frankie has second thoughts. Tears. A proposal?!?! Please don't hurt me if you cry. I love you. Words: 6.8k (this got away from me holy cow) Summary: It’s the morning after Santiago’s wedding, and a certain question hangs in the air. Frankie starts to spiral, and you try to ground him. Part Two of “Wonderful Tonight,” but this can be read on its own. Inspiration drawn from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. A/N: Some spoilers from the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s one of Pedro’s favorite movies, and I figured it would work well with how Frankie may be feeling post-divorce as he contemplates diving into another marriage. Is a smutty third part in the works? Perhaps. I’d love to write sex with Frankie, but we’ll see how this goes. I am so, so sorry if this sucks. I'm still learning Frankie, y'all. Please forgive me if I fucked up any Spanish. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll happily fix it if you point me toward mistakes.

So, whaddya say? Will you…marry me?

Ask me again when you’re feeling better. Ask me then, and I promise I’ll give you the answer you’re hoping for.

You stand at the counter, lightly chopping vegetables for omelets. It’s a wonder you can focus enough to not chop your fingers off, the previous night playing on repeat in the back of your mind, running on a continuous loop like a catchy song that your brain can’t seem to get enough of. Nothing could ruin your mood. Not even the gray, dreary day outside the kitchen window.

Your body sways to the music flowing through your earbuds as you quietly hum along, unable to contain your happiness, but you try to keep it down, not wanting to wake Frankie. However, your efforts are all for nothing.

You’re completely unaware that you have an audience. You don’t know that Frankie woke to the sweet sound of your voice drifting through the house. You don’t see him leaning with his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed loosely in front of him as he gazes at you from across the room, wondering what he did to deserve you. You have no idea just how deeply in love with you he is. And, somewhere deep down, how much that terrifies him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Frankie finally questions, causing you to startle and whip around, utility knife in hand.

Your body relaxes the second you realize it’s only Frankie. Despite having slept, he appears even more disheveled than the night before. His eyelids are heavy and his hair unkempt, sticking up every which way like he’d gotten caught in a windstorm. He had apparently removed his pants at some point, leaving him in boxer briefs, his white dress shirt completely unbuttoned, revealing his undershirt.

“Jesus Christ, Francisco!” you wail, removing your earbuds, pausing the music as you do so. He winces slightly at the volume of your voice, reminding you that he’s feeling the effects of the alcohol today.

“Good morning to you too,” Frankie grumbles, turning his wince into a small smile.

You lay the knife and earbuds down on the counter, your voice lower as you question, “What were you trying to do? Give me a heart attack or get yourself killed?”

“Just trying to figure out what you’re doing,” he says, pushing himself off the wall. “You know Sunday breakfast is my thing.”

“First of all, we’re heading into Sunday brunch territory,” you correct him, alerting him to the time. He had slept the entire morning away, and you were more than happy to allow it, knowing he needed the rest. “Secondly, I figured you’d be a bit”-you pause, trying to find the right word-“incapacitated this morning, so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I took over.”

“I’ve been worse,” he says lowly, though you find that hard to believe. “Not sure the other three can say the same. Have you heard from any of them?”

“Santi messaged me to check in, so he’s alive at least,” you reply, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I’m sure he and Yovanna are off to their honeymoon by now.”

Frankie similarly rests on the counter across from you, crossing his arms in front of him, his hands lightly gripping his biceps. “And the other two?”

“Haven’t heard from them but I’m sure they’re fine,” you say with a shrug. “I called an Uber after Benny nearly killed himself trying to do the splits. Don’t you remember giving him shit about how he could’ve torn something in his legs? After you got him the ice?”

Frankie chuckles, the memory seeming to resurface in his mind. “Right. He convinced the DJ to play ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’ so he could reenact the scene from that Tom Cruise movie.”

“Risky Business?” you question with a giggle. “Yeah. And he did. Underwear and all. Beer bottle as a microphone. That’s when he tried to do the splits. Obviously didn’t go too well. He may be athletic, but he’s not gymnast.”

He covers his mouth with the palm of his hand. He raises his eyebrows, as if imagining the pain, though you know Benny was so drunk he hardly felt a thing. “He’ll be feeling that today.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “He has a pretty hands-on girlfriend who’ll help take care of him.”

“Linda, right?” Frankie questions.

You laugh and nod your head, remembering where the name came from. Santi grabbed Benny’s hand while they were messing around and said, “Qué linda manito!” What a cute little hand. From that point of the night on, Benny drunkenly dubbed his pretend girlfriend and wedding-date - his hand, the poor lonely idiot - Linda.

Frankie shakes and lowers his head, hiding his laughter before uttering, “Pendejo.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you say, wondering just how much of his memory is intact.

He looks up at you, seeming to examine your face.

“Recuerdo todo,” he says, stepping toward you.

You look up at him from beneath your eyelashes, watching as he leans forward, his hands on the counter on either side of you.

“Recuerdo todo lo que ocurrió a la perfección.”

You understand just enough Spanish to make out what he said. I remember everything that happened perfectly.

His voice sends a tingle through you, though you try not to make it show. You’re excited that he remembers, that none of it was forgotten, especially the important question he seemed to ask you before drifting off you sleep…

“You do, do you?” you inquire.

“Mhm.”

“How are you feeling?” you ask, your eyes searching his face, looking for any indication of what he’s thinking. “Well enough to ask me…anything?”

Frankie smiles slyly. “Maybe.”

“No pressure,” you add, not wanting to feel as though you’re forcing him. “But I’m ready to answer any question you might have on your mind.”

“Probably would be rude to keep a lady waiting, huh?” Frankie asks rhetorically, still giving you a lopsided grin.

You shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“In that case…” He pushes himself off the counter, backing away from you.

Your heart pounds against your chest and you wonder if this is it…if this is finally it.

“Will you”-he pauses for a moment, letting the beginning of the question hang in the air before continuing-“let me help with breakfast?”

You exhale, realizing that you had been holding your breath. You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be so easy.

“Speaking of pendejos,” you jest, lightly pushing past him as you laugh. You move to the fridge and open the door, grabbing the carton of eggs you’d originally set out to get before he startled you. “And it’s brunch, remember?”

You turn back to the counter, placing the carton down before reaching up and grabbing a bowl to prepare the eggs in.

Frankie approaches you from behind. You feel him brush against you before a hand wraps around your waist. His other hand lightly brushes the fabric of your sleepshirt off your shoulder, revealing the skin beneath it. He lightly plants a kiss there.

You purse your lips, trying to hide your smile as you feign annoyance. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Morales?”

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” His hand slithers down your arm, his soft lips moving toward your neck, planting more kisses as he goes.

“It feels like…” You take a deep breath and close your eyes, forgetting for a moment what you’re doing. “You’re distracting me.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He presses against you as his hand runs down your body.

“Frankie, please…,” you whine, completely unsure if you want him to continue or stop. The tone in your voice isn’t any clearer. The week leading up to Santi’s wedding had been a busy one for Frankie, between the rehearsal and tux fitting and dinners and bachelor party, meaning the two of you haven’t had much alone time. You want him, you need him, but no matter how well he plays it off, you know he’s hungover and feeling it. Not to mention you’re hungry.

“Tell me what you need, cariño.” His hand finds the waistband of your pants and slips beneath them. You tremble under his touch.

“I-I need…I need you to… Frankie, please.” You bite your lip then grab his wrist, mentally cursing yourself as you force him to quit. You shudder and giggle at the ticklish feeling as you guide his hand out of your pants. You twist around, turning around to face him.

He sighs, once more gripping the counter that you’re now backed against, boxing you in with his arms like before. “You can be such a tease.”

“It takes one to know one,” you argue playfully.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been trying to kill me ever since you sent that damn picture.”

You cross your arms. “If you’re so desperate for an orgasm, why don’t you call Benny? See if Linda can come play.”

Frankie exhales through his nose. “Baby, if I had to choose between you and Benny’s hand, there’s really no competition.”

You giggle. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. I mean, have you seen the muscles on Benny? I’m sure Linda would give pretty good hand.”

“Get out,” you say sternly as he cracks a smile at his own joke. You lightly push him away before finally breaking into a fit of laughter. “Why don’t you go shower so I can cook in peace?”

“Only if you come with me.”

“No thanks. You smell like a damn distillery if it was inside a middle school locker room. Go shower.” You turn him around start ushering him out of the kitchen.

“Linda would never talk to me like that.”

“Go!” you laugh, giving him a light tap on the ass to push him along. “And don’t come back until you’re clean!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he snorts, cackling as he moves.

You cross your arms and purse your lips, watching him disappear. The corners of your mouth quirk up into a smile. That’s the man you get to spend the rest of your life with.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m all clean.”

You look back at Frankie after laying a plated omelet on the table. He’s standing behind the threshold of the room, as if waiting for your permission to enter. He is freshly showered, his hair wet and tousled, wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that hugs his body just right, especially the sleeves, which seem to accentuate his arms. God damn. Now who’s killing who?

“You better not be expecting me to get you all dirty again now,” you jokingly warn. You set a second plate down, biting your lip and telling yourself to get a grip. The table all set, you turn and look at him.

“Not when you worked hard to make me food,” he says, entering the room. He gives you a peck on the lips. “It smells delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, gesturing for him to sit. But he doesn’t. Instead, he moves to a chair and pulls it out, waiting for you to sit in it.

“Siéntese por favor, querida.”

Chills run up your spine, as they almost always seem to do when he speaks Spanish. The way he rolls the ‘r’s’ is as soothing as a cat’s purr. It’s almost funny how weak in the knees you get just by the things he can do with his tongue.

Giving him a warm smile, you acquiesce to his request. He pushes your chair in as you sit; a proper gentleman.

Frankie sits across from you. He picks up the mug in front of him. “Coffee too? You know the quickest way to my heart.”

“Of course. Through your fourth and fifth ribs,” you respond nonchalantly, causing him to nearly spit into his coffee while taking a sip. “Does it taste alright?”

He swallows then nods. “Perfect, as always. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s not hard.”

“Says you,” he retorts. “I can’t replicate it. Trust me. I’ve tried. Mine always tastes like shit. What’s your secret?”

“No secret,” you reply, sticking your fork into your omelet. “But if there is, I’ll never tell you. How else will I keep you around?” You give him a small smile, crinkling your eyes before taking a bite of your food.

“You’re more than just good coffee, babe,” he assures you.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. I mean, this omelet is pretty good too.”

You shoot him a glare. “Enjoy it. It may very well be your last meal.”

“Anything you’d like to do?” Frankie eventually asks, your plates nearly empty.

You shake your head, putting your fork down and cleaning your lips with a napkin. “No. I didn’t really have any plans today. Figured we’d be too tired to do anything. What’re you thinking?”

He shrugs. “I was hoping I could take you to the lake today, but it seems the rain isn’t going to let up any time soon.”

You sit back in your seat, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Any particular reason you wanted to take me to the lake, Mr. Morales?”

“Nope. Not at all.” He shoots you a lopsided smile.

The room falls silent as you look at him. You can’t believe how happy he makes you, and how hard he wants to try, despite the fact he’s probably feeling like utter crap.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything special,” you assure him. “I am perfectly fine with just being here with you. Maybe watch a movie. Listen to the rain while we cuddle. Just a boring, lazy Sunday at home.”

“I like the sound of that. Only problem is that any time spent with you is anything but boring.”

You cock your head and lightly shake it. “You are ridiculous,” you tease before rising from your seat.

“Ridiculously cute, right?”

“Mhm. Sure.” You roll your eyes before chucking. You start to clean up the table, but Frankie immediately stops you.

“Ah-ah. No. Quit,” he says, reaching out for the plate in your hand.

You don’t immediately hand it over. “What?”

“You cooked, so I clean. Give it here.”

“Frankie,” you laugh. “There’s not a lot to clean up. It’s no big deal.”

“Then I get the easy job. You won’t hear me complaining.” He motions for you to give up the plate. “I insist.”

You sigh. “Alright.”

He takes the plate in your hand then stacks it on his own. “How about you take a nice, long bath while I clean up.”

“You going to tell me I stink?”

“No. Because, unlike some people, I’m not rude.” He smiles. “Go relax. Slip back into something comfortable. Don’t come back for another hour.”

“An hour?” you question, an eyebrow raised. “What do you have up your sleeve, Francisco?”

He plants a simple kiss on your lips. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

As badly as you want to return to Frankie as soon as possible, you do as he says, taking a long soothing bath before throwing on something comfortable, which for you is an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. If he’s going to tease you with those damn sweatpants, you’re going to tease him with this. Two can absolutely play that game.

Once you’re dressed, you lay in bed, lost in your thoughts while time ticks by. You can’t stop thinking about the night before.

I will love him for all that he is. I already do.

Enough to marry him?

He’ll have to ask and find out.

Well, how about now? I can just-

You’re a little mad at yourself for preventing him from proposing right then and there. The moment was perfect. The two of you dancing under the dim lights, you dressed so beautiful, him looking handsome. Damn wedding etiquette.

Will you…marry me?

He finally got the words out. He finally asked the question. And your reply was “Ask me again…” You groan just thinking about it, nearly wishing you’d just given him your answer. God knows it nearly killed you stopping yourself from blurting out yes. But he was drunk and practically asleep. You’re unsure how long he’s thought about the proposal, what sort of plans made, but you absolutely doubt that was his ideal situation.

Will he do it tonight? You wonder. Or will he make you wait for a better opportunity? You don’t need anything special, but you know Frankie wants it to be. Is that why he hasn’t asked yet? Or is he afraid that you’ll say no? No, of course he wouldn’t think that. Just because you basically shot him down twice in night doesn’t give him a reason to be afraid…right?

Sighing, you roll over in bed, looking at your phone to see the time. Thankfully, it seems the hour has passed. You head to the living room in search of Frankie, excited to see what he has in store for you, wondering what all the commotion was while you were hiding in the other room.

When you step into the living room, you see that Frankie has transformed it into a perfectly beautiful and whimsical date night location. All the lights are off and curtains closed, the gray day outside allowing it to be dark in the house, as if it’s nighttime. The TV is on, casting enough light for you to see the tiny tent in front of the couch that he created out of dining chairs and sheets, books sitting on the seats to keep the fabric taut. He strung white Christmas lights at the entrance, which is open to allow you to see the TV while beneath it. Beneath the tent is an air mattress, blankets, and pillows. A couple tealights flicker around it. Sitting on the mattress is a plate of mini marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey’s bars to make s’mores, your favorite camping trip snack.

“Is that a blanket fort?” you question in surprise, your eyes moving to Frankie, who’s standing proudly beside it. “I haven’t been in one since I was a kid.”

Frankie looks at you with a wide-faced, dimpled grin, his eyes gleaming. “Welcome to Morales Cinemas, the only theater in town where clothing is optional and highly discouraged,” he greets in a cheesy customer-service type voice, like when he speaks to customers at the auto shop. “I see you took the liberty to read our dress code policy before arriving.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Aren’t you a bit overdressed then?” you say, pointing to the fact he’s still wearing pants.

“Yes, ma’am, you are correct. I apologize, and I’ll be sure to fix it right away.” He slips his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulls them down so that they fall to his ankles, then steps out of them, leaving him in a shirt and a pair of tight boxer briefs. “Is this more to your satisfaction, ma’am?”

You bite down lightly on your tongue, preventing yourself from pouncing on him. “Yes, I believe so. Thank you.”

“If you’d like to come this way, I’ll show you to your spot on the mattress.” He gestures to under the tent.

Laughing/, you get down on your hands and knees and crawl into the blanket fort.

“Or you could just stay in this position if you like.”

“Quit it, you horndog,” you tease.

“It was worth a try,” he chuckles before joining you inside, laying down on the mattress beside you, propped up on pillows. He hands the remote to you.

“Our first showing will begin whenever you make a decision on what you want to watch,” he says, customer-service Frankie returning. “We have a wide selection of movies and TV shows to choose from, from drama to thriller to action. We have comedy, romance, porn…”

You slowly turn your head to him and cock it. “What was that last one?”

“Romance? A great choice if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes then flip through the selection of movies on the screen. Nothing immediately jumps out to you, though you don’t know why it’s difficult to decide, considering you’ll probably make it about fifteen minutes before one of you starts to get handsy. After a minute or so of scrolling, you come across the familiar poster for the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

“Oooh, have you seen this?” you ask. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Can’t say I have,” Frankie responds, straining his eyes to look at the screen. “Is that Jim Carrey?”

“Mhm. And Kate Winslet.”

“The girl from Titanic?”

You lift an eyebrow. “You’ve seen Titanic?”

“Erm, yeah,” Frankie replies, hanging his head as he chuckles. “I watched it for the uh…the plot.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Kate’s plots were pretty nice in that movie, weren’t they?”

Frankie turns red. He quickly changes the subject. “Do you want to watch this?”

“I, uh…” You consider for a moment, not knowing if he would like the movie. “I’m not sure it’s one of the best date movies.”

“Why not?” he asks curiously. “Romance. Science fiction. Jim Carrey, which means some comedy, right? Not to mention it’s one of your favorites. I’m sold.”

“It depends how you look at it,” you reply, knowing that people have dramatically different views on the movie.

“Well, let me judge for myself.”

“Fine. If you decide you don’t like it, we can turn it off and you can choose the next thing we watch.”

“Deal,” he agrees. “But I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Frankie adjusts his body, moving his head further down the pillows before extending his arm, inviting you to come closer. You snuggle into him then press play on the remote. He pulls a blanket over both of you. Once you’ve both settled, the movie begins, somber music playing with a dark, gray shot as Jim Carrey’s character gets out of bed.

“Random thoughts for Valentine’s Day, 2004,” his character says. “Today is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Frankie jokingly grumbles.

You poke him in the ribs. “Shhh,” you say with a giggle. “Watch the damn movie.”

The finale scene of the movie plays on the screen, the closing song flowing through the speakers.

Change your heart, look around you

Change your heart, it will astound you

I need your loving like the sunshine

And everybody's gotta learn sometime

The credits roll. You look up at Frankie, seeing his eyes soft and wet.

“Well?” you prod, turning the movie off so you can talk.

Frankie nods, his eyes still glued to the screen even though there’s nothing more to see. He takes a deep breath then breathes, “Wow. That was…that was heartbreaking. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was good. But damn. It’s a break-up movie.”

“Yeah, but they got back together in the end,” you say, pushing yourself off him.

“Just so they can restart the cycle of misery,” he says glumly. “They’re just going to repeat the past and hurt each other again.”

“You really think so?”

Frankie lowers his head and knits his eyebrows together, his forehead wrinkling. “I don’t know.”

“Frankie? What is it?”

“I-it’s…” He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

You can tell he’s shutting down, wanting to hide his feelings from you, from himself. You shift to sit on your knees beside him, then put your hand on his.

“It’s not nothing. It’s something. Talk to me. Please.”

“I just…” He sighs. “I think I can relate to the movie a bit too much. It’s too real, you know?”

“How so?”

He frowns, shaking his head more. You know he doesn’t want to talk about whatever’s on his mind. You sit patiently, waiting for him to feel ready enough to talk.

“After Grace…,” he begins, speaking his ex-wife’s name. “After the divorce…I wished I could erase everything. Forget it all. My past. My memories of her. The things we said and did to one another. I…I fucked up. A lot. And it destroyed every bit of happiness that we had.”

“You weren’t the only one who destroyed the marriage, Francisco,” you assure him. “Grace played a large part in it too.”

“But it was mostly me,” he retorts adamantly. “You can try to convince me otherwise all you want, but it’s the truth. I know it. The missions I’d go on no matter how much she begged me to stay. The PTSD that made me want to shut down and distance myself from reality. The coke. Losing my job. It was all me.”

“Was, Frankie. Past tense. None of that is who you are anymore.”

“How can I know that I’m not doomed to repeat my past?” he questions, looking at you, his eyes watering. “That I won’t destroy this relationship too?”

You shake your head, knowing there’s only one honest answer. “You can’t know.”

“Then why are we doing this?”

You narrow your eyes, pulling your eyebrows together in a frown as you try to understand what he’s saying. “Doing what?”

“Setting ourselves up for the next big heartbreak. Why would we do that to ourselves? Why shouldn’t we call it quits before we hurt each other like every other relationship in our pasts?”

“Frankie...” You’re hurt, but you don’t let it show. You know he doesn’t mean it. It’s obvious that he’s spiraling. It’s the only explanation for why he’d go from wanting to marry you one day to suggesting you call it quits the next day. “This isn’t you talking. It’s your anxiety or insecurities or the hangover, even. But it’s not you.”

“No, it’s-” he starts to argue, but you interrupt him.

“Francisco.” You place your hands on either side of his face, forcing him to focus on you. You look deeply into his eyes and firmly say, “Take a breath and listen to me. It’s not you. Okay?”

He nods.

You release his face, nervously clasping your hands in your lap. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know…”

“Frankie, please.”

“Of losing you,” he responds. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

You look at him with soft, sympathetic eyes. The fact that he thinks he could ever lose you breaks your heart more than anything. “What makes you think that you’ll ever lose me?”

“Because all I ever do is mess things up,” he says. “Whenever something seems to be going right, I just fuck it all up. And you…you deserve better than that. You deserve a man who has his shit in order. And that’s not me. All I’m going to do is break your heart in the end.”

“You’re not going to break my heart, Frankie,” you assure him.

“How can you say that?” he asks. “Because you just said we can’t know that.”

“I just trust it,” you say. “I trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What’s wrong with heartbreak?” you ask. “Why is it so terrifying that you want to walk away?”

“Are you serious?” he asks, almost laughing. “It fucking sucks. It hurts like hell.”

“I know it does. It can hurt so much,” you affirm. “But what would happen if we embraced heartbreak instead of fearing it? Instead of grieving it like a loss, we accept it as a part of who we are?”

“What do you mean?” he asks confusedly.

You squirm, wondering how to get him to understand what you’re saying. “Okay. Let me ask you this: Are you the same person you were before you and Grace separated?”

Frankie is quiet for a moment, considering the question. He shakes his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Would you say or are a better or worse person now?”

He scoffs. “I would hope better.”

“You are,” you assure him, nodding your head. “Do you know why? Because you made mistakes. And learned from those mistakes. You grew from them.”

“I…I guess so.”

“That’s the beauty of life, Frankie,” you say, smiling. “We get to make mistakes. We get to learn from them. History is only doomed to repeat itself by those who have forgotten it. Because we have the memories, we can break the cycle. Don’t you see that’s the entire point of the movie?”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “It’s saying that memories…memories shouldn’t be treated like files which can be deleted at will. Because memories are important. They shape who we are at our very core. If you get rid of them, you’re just destined to repeat yourself over and over, like the girl who went right back to having an affair with the same guy after deleting her memory of the last affair. People need both the good and the bad to learn and grow. Which is why I see the ending as hopeful.”

“Hopeful? Seriously? How?”

“Did we watch the same movie, Francisco?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. “By the end, the characters have regained the knowledge of their past relationship, and they can use that knowledge to make it work this time around. They don’t have to be trapped in an endless cycle of pain and misery.” You reach out and grab his hand. “You don’t have to be trapped in the cycle either, Frankie.”

He looks from your hand to you, seeming to take your words to heart.

“Can’t you see how far you’ve come?” you ask. “You’re clean. You’re managing your trauma better. You’ve got a home. A stable job. Yeah, you have a shitty past. But do you think you would be the person you are today if you didn’t have a past to learn from? No. You wouldn’t be where you are. You wouldn’t be who you are, and that is a man who I love with my entire being.”

“You can run from things because you’re afraid,” you add. “You have to take risks sometimes. And isn’t love always worth the risk, Frankie? I mean, just look at what the love you once had for Grace created. If you hadn’t taken the risk, if you had never loved her, you wouldn’t have Sophia.”

He looks up to you, knowing that if anything made the past heart break worth it, it was his daughter. His daughter and the fact that the break led him to you.

“Please don’t let the past destroy you. A lot of bad shit happened, yeah, but a lot of good came from it too.”

He nods, seeming to understand.

You raise your hand to his face, gently cupping his cheek with the palm of your hand. You feel his facial hair under the palm of your skin, and you lightly rub the little bald patch you love so much.

“I am not going anywhere, Frankie,” you assure him. You move a hand down to his chest. “I am not afraid. I don’t care if there’s any chance for a million heartbreaks. I accept the risk…because you are worth it. So incredibly worth it.”

He looks at you, his eyes wet with tears that he won’t let fall. You can see the shift in his features. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. But you are absolutely deserving.”

Frankie places a hand on the side of your face and pulls you into him, his lips crashing into yours, claiming your mouth with his. He cradles your face with his hands, warm and rough against your skin, kissing you with an intense urgency. Your heart thrashes against your chest, and you feel his pound equally as hard beneath your hand. His hands slide into your hair while his tongue slips into your mouth.

He grips you tighter, pulling you into him as if he wishes for the two of you to meld into one. You ball up the fabric of his shirt in your fist, holding onto him like he would float away if you let go. Time seems to come to a standstill, and suddenly nothing matters. You’ve forgotten the world, focusing only on how soft he feels against your mouth, how perfectly his lips seemed to mold to the shape of yours, as if they had been made for you. As if he had been made for you.

You’re the first to break, pulling away from his lips. But he doesn’t let you go far. He rests his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against yours, his thumb stroking your jaw. You close your eyes once more, sucking your lips inward and biting down, trying to control your emotions.

“You are amazing,” Frankie whispers. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything,” he says. “You accepted my past. You accepted my daughter. You – for whatever reason – accepted my friends and their bullshit.”

Air expels from your nose, your lips turning into a smile.

Frankie pulls back, his hand slipping away from your face. You keep your hands on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breathe.

“You accepted me for who I am instead of trying to make me into something you want me to be. But you also make me want to be a better man. With you, I have faith I can do it. You are my strength, my rock, my safe space to land.” He reaches up and lays his hand on yours, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Eres mi amor. Eres mi vida. Eres mi todo.” You are my love. You are my life. You are my everything.

His words make your stomach flutter. You grant him a smile, thankful that your Frankie seems to have returned to you.

“Do you remember our first date?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say quietly, smiling. “How could I forget? We had an early dinner at the diner then saw a double feature at the drive-in.”

Frankie nods, then bashfully lowers his head. “I can’t even tell you what was playing.”

“I see it was memorable for you,” you say with a smirk. “It was the last two Spider-Man movies. They played the first one before the sequel. Don’t you remember? We were running late after dinner, got caught in traffic, and you kept apologizing. I kept assuring you that I didn’t mind if we missed anything. All I cared about was spending time with you.”

“I was memorable,” he assures you. “I just don’t remember the movie because I was too wrapped up in you. I couldn’t stop staring at you. The way you smiled. The way you laughed. How you looked when you were concentrating on what was happening on the screen. I was so afraid I’d screw up. I’d say or do something stupid.”

“Well, obviously you didn’t, or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I fell in love with you that night,” Frankie admits. “I couldn’t stop thinking about a future with you. I went out with the boys the next night, and you were all I could talk about. Benny threatened to punch me if I didn’t stop, and Santi had to talk me out of buying a ring that night.”

You laugh. “Oh, so Santi is the reason I’m not engaged?” you joke. “I’ll have to deal with him later.”

Frankie smiles. “No. I’m to blame. I’ve had a ring for…” He runs his tongue along his cheek. “Well, for longer than I’d like to admit. I kept telling myself that I was just waiting for the right time, but the truth is, I was always afraid. Afraid of, well…you know…and I’d let every perfect moment slip by.”

“Oh, Frankie,” you coo.

“The boys came up with what they had hoped would be one final perfect moment.”

“And what, dare I ask, was that?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing special. Just the two of us dancing together under the spotlight to one of our favorite songs. You looking like the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…”

You wonder if he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Santi and Yovanna gave me their blessing to propose, but…”

A laugh escapes your lips when you understand what he’s saying: the wedding. He was ready to propose then and there before you stopped him, and he had permission from the bride and groom to do it. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “Nope.”

“Then why’d you let me talk you out of it? Why didn’t you correct me when I said it’s rude to propose?”

He shrugs. “Maybe there was a reason you said that. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. I mean, that wasn’t us. All dolled up like that, drinking fancy beer and popping champagne like we just won the lottery.”

You smile and nod, knowing he has a point. Why do proposals have to be big and elaborate and fancy?

“I always imagined something simpler,” he continues. “Maybe take you to the lake. Pop the question as we laid in the bed of my truck under the stars after talking the day away. Just like the night of our first date.”

You smile. “I would like that.”

“I would too,” Frankie says, returning your smile, but only for a moment. He sighs. “But it’s fucking raining, and I’ll be damned if I let one more moment slip away.”

You blink, watching as Frankie reaches under a pillow laying on the air mattress. When he pulls his hand from under the pillow, you see he’s holding a small box.

Your eyes grow wide. “Frankie… What are you…?” You trail off, trying to wrap your head around what’s happening.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so scared to do this, but I’ve never been more certain than now. I know I’m not perfect, mi amor, but they say the perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. You will never give up on me. I know that. And I promise you that no one will work harder to make you happy or cherish you more than me. I want to grow old with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Loving you, fighting with you, irritating you, getting irritated by you.”

A tearful laugh escapes your lips.

“However my life is, I want it to be with you.” He says you full name while opening the box, but you pay no mind to it. “Will you marry me?”

You don’t break your gaze from him, not even long enough to look down at the ring he’s offering you. You’re in absolute awe of this man. You want to answer immediately, but you let out a sob before you can.

“Yes,” you finally cry, flinging your arms around him. “Yes! Yes! Absolutely, yes!”

He wraps his arms around you, holding onto you tightly while still clutching the box.

“Thank fucking Christ,” he breaths quietly. He chuckles. “I’m not even sure who I have to thank for this. Spider-Man or Jim Carrey.”

You laugh tearfully, burying your face into his shoulder as you hold onto him tightly. You guess it’s true that movies can bring people together.

Slowly, you unwrap yourselves from each other. You look at each other awkwardly for a moment before Frankie fumbles with the box, removing the ring.

You hold out your left hand for him to take, watching as he slips the ring on your finger.

“Benny will be heartbroken he can’t steal me away.”

“He’ll be fine. That’s what Linda is for.”

You bite your lip, examining the ring now fully on your finger. “It’s beautiful, Francisco.”

“Just like every part of you.”

Your eyes move from the jewelry to him. He smiles at you gently, his love and admiration shining in his eyes when he gazes back at you. His features are soft, the skin on his forehead smooth, looking like a man who’d finally had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders and left without a single care in the world.

“How do you think we should celebrate, Mr. Morales?” you question.

“I have just the thing,” Frankie informs you, lifting the sheet and grabbing an expensive bottle of champagne that’s sitting beneath one of the chairs holding up the blanket fort you’re under.

You laugh. “Did you take that from the wedding?”

“Maybe. It’ll be our little secret.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you watch as he tries to ease the bottle open. Without warning, the cork shoots out of the bottle with a pop! followed by some bubbly liquid.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the bottle shoot its load.

“I swear that’s never happened to me before,” Frankie jokes, causing you to bust out laughing.

You reach for the two glasses sitting under the chair and hold them out for him. He pours the golden liquid into both glasses then sets the bottle aside.

“Drink up, young man,” you say, quoting the female character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as you hand him a glass. “It’ll make the whole seduction part less repugnant.”

tags: @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage, @dobbyjen

#francisco morales x original female character #frankie morales angst #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #fluff #pedrostories

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test-tube · 3 years

Text

Dawn at the Winery

Author’s Note: Apologies!! School took up a lot of time and I also just couldn’t carry the plot- (pspspsps @starfell-traveler come here you simp) Pairings: Crepus x GN!Reader Word Count: 1533 (I’m ashamed) TW: death

You took a deep breath, excited for your new job. You were sure working at the Dawn Winery wouldn’t be too difficult, right? Right? It’ll be perfectly fine, you assured yourself. You opened the doors and were greeted by the sound of children cheering.

“I gotcha!”

“AHH- “

A blue haired child fell onto a chaise, then started squirming. “I’ve been hit! R…remember mE!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the two. They looked about 6 maximum.

The redheaded child turned to you. “Oh, who’re you?”

“I’m Y/N, your-“You paused. You shouldn’t make any rash assumptions. “Master Crepus hired me. Is he here?”

“Papa’s upstairs in his office. But he did leave us this.” The child handed you a paper, outlining your tasks for the day.

“I guess I’ve got to take care of you two. So,” You bent over to his height and ruffled his soft hair. “What do you want to do?”

“We were playing pirates...but if you can take us outside…” The kid’s eyes were wide with pleading. The infamous puppy dog eyes. You crumbled.

“All right, all right. What’re your names first?”

The child with blue hair stood up and dashed over. “I’m Captain Kaeya!”

“No, you’re not.”

“Shush Diluc.”

“Kaeya and Diluc then.” You smiled at the two.

“Actually, it’s Diluc and Kaeya.” Diluc corrected. “I’m older.”

“Diluc and Kaeya,” You amended. “Shall we go outside?”

“Woohoo!!” The two boys ran outside quickly, you chuckled and followed them.

They played for hours upon hours. Would they ever run out of energy? The sun had started to set, you ordered them back inside. You were met with a taller man with red hair similar to Diluc’s. His foot was tapping against the floor, his arms were crossed.

Diluc and Kaeya stopped short. Their heads hung low. “Sorry Papa.” They said in unison.

(Y/N: 😀😀 I’ve been lied to)

“I’ll ask this one time. Who let you two out?” The man ordered.

You gulped and met the eyes of the man. “I did sir. I deeply apologize.”

His eyes met your and his expression softened in a way. Maybe it was due to how sheepish you looked?

“A common mistake. These two can easily win people over.” He emitted a warm atmosphere now, and he walked over and ruffled the hair of his sons. “But it won’t happen again. Not without permission.”

“Yes sir, of course.” You nodded. You were incredibly relieved of Master Crepus’ easy-going nature. You had a feeling working here would be fun.

Everyday was a new adventure, caring for the Ragnvindr boys. You played pirates, attended parties, watched over their lessons. You smiled and listened and watched over these boys like they were your own, in some way you felt like a parent yourself. You loved this feeling and wanted to cherish it.

You had held your occupation for over a year now and you have never been so fond of the household. Crepus tells the boys such wonderful stories at night, shifting his tone for each characters to make the audience giggle. Taking tour along the winery, pointing out all the wildlife.

While it’s true Crepus does spend a majority of his time working, when he comes out it’s like the sun peeking from behind clouds, a rare, warm event.

“Mx. Y/N, Mx. Y/N!” called Kaeya. He clutched several letters in hand. “You got something in the mail! I’m not sure why it came here though…”

“No matter, thanks for the delivery.” You ruffled the kid’s hair like you always did.

He giggled and ran off, leaving you to address the letter privately.

Dearest Y/N,

I looked upon you on a moonlit night, astounded by your beauty

I see you each day, blown away by your kindness

I’ve come to the terms of my own feelings, but I am unsure of yours

Please accompany me to Windrise, a picnic awaits

You felt increasingly flustered the longer you held the parchment. It wasn’t signed, no, but you planned to accept. What’s the harm if you did? You would probably need to request time off from Master Crepus…

You knocked on the door to his office, out rang a gruff voice. “Come in.”

“Master Crepus?” You peeked through the doorframe.

His expression softened at the sight of you. “Yes Y/N?”

“I received a letter earlier, inviting me to go to a picnic. I was planning on accepting, may I request time off?”

He pondered this for a second. “Yes, of course.. Take the rest of the day off, actually.”

“Really? I couldn’t do that Master Crepus, I really couldn’t.”

“Nonsense. You deserve a break.”

You looked hesitantly at your boss but gave in. “Alright. But tomorrow I’ll arrive early.”

“If you insist.”

You nodded and stepped outside of the office to inform the boys you were leaving and that they were expected to behave themselves for the hours you were gone.

The wind blew lazily in your hair as you walked to the roots of the Windrise tree. A small blanket was set up with a basket and candles. You sat carefully on one side, promising yourself to not look just yet. You heard a slight shift and peeked at your suitor. You gasped at the familiar face.

“Y/N-“

He looked extremely worried and hesitant, which was honestly fair. You erupted into a small smile. “Did you mean all of those things? In the letter?”

“Of course. All of that and more.”

You felt blush creep onto your cheeks. You looked down at the blanket. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.”

His voice reassured you easily, like how his stories could lull Kaeya and Diluc to sleep.

You scooted closer to him and muttered something about eating the food. The two of you dined together while Crepus occasionally told stories and jokes to make you feel more at ease. It was nice, seeing Master Crepus able to relax. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy how he’d want to spend his time with you.

The veil of night spread over the sky. You bid Crepus farewell.

“You could stay at the winery if you wish.” He offered.

It was rather far from home. You lived alone anyways, it would be quite lonely, sitting in a silent home. You nodded and turned towards the manor. He silently asked permission to grab you by the waist, after your confirmation he snugly held you in a sort of half hug.

The two of you arrived and he hesitated outside of the guest room.

“Thank you for accompanying me.”

“Thank you for the invitation.” You reply with a smile. He kissed your hand softly and walked over to the master bedroom, disappearing for the night.

You awoke with a smile, remembering the acts of last night. You hummed contentedly as you got dressed and walked through the manor. Diluc and Kaeya were both already awake, reading in the family room. When Kaeya caught sight of you he looked excited.

“How did it go?”

Both you and Diluc replied “How did what go?”

“Oh, come on~” Kaeya set down his book and walked over to you. “You know what I’m talking about. Papa was very excited that you went, he put extra effort in his story last night.”

You became flushed and tried to hide the pink on your cheeks. “That? Oh, it was wonderful. But it’s between me and your papa, alright?” You booped Kaeya on the nose and he giggled. “Don’t you two have classes to get to?”

The two boys nodded and dashed off, though you caught a hint of Kaeya whispering something. Couldn’t stop him from gossiping. As usual.

Crepus walked into the family room. “Ah, I was just about to get them.”

“Good morning Master Crepus.” You said meekly.

“Let’s not bother with formalities.” He smiled and gave you another kiss on the hand before carefully grabbing it and pulling you into a dance. Music drafted from somewhere nearby. You had no time to regain your composure, so you just focused on the steps. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4.

Kaeya and Diluc peeked from a doorframe, giggling. You caught their eye and you smiled as their expressions became surprised and the duo dashed away.

“Is something wrong?” Crepus asked.

“No, no of course not.” You looked back at the man and smiled as his gentle expression.

Each day there was something new. He made you breakfast. Bought you gifts. Wrote you letters. Called you “my fawn” or “sweet flower”. You were totally and indefinitely entranced.

You remembered these days with a bittersweet heart as the rain dripped down from your umbrella onto your hands encased with black silk.

You remembered these days during your silent grieving with Kaeya.

You remembered these days when you saw that little velvet box on Crepus’ desk and broke down in sobs. Diluc had found you that day and comforted you, but you could hardly hear him over your throbbing heart.

You looked at the two older boys, turned away from each other. Their world had been torn apart. Your world had been torn apart.

“Can we go play pirates?” You ask with a sob.

#test-tube writes #test-tube.docx #test-tube cries #crepus x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc #kaeya #crepus ragnvindr

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

But professor… - c.4

Summary: Penny is going to see her professor for the first time again after they kissed.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 5.1k

Warnings: Thunderstorms (?)

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next day it’s time for my criminology class, the first one I’ll have after our kiss. I haven’t spoken to Walter since the kiss, because a) it was literally yesterday and b) after I told him I was going to bed, I actually went to bed and fell asleep.

To make matters even worse, our meeting isn’t even gonna be in a private setting.

It’s in lecture hall setting.

Despite me falling asleep not long after I arrived home, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Since I was hungry, I decided to have some late night snacks, but I am incapable of eating normally, because I totally spilled some sauce on Walter’s sweater.

In other words: I had a little early morning laundry moment.

With Walter’s sweater neatly folded in my backpack, I take a deep breath for some encouragement, as I walk into the lecture hall. There are already around ten other students in their seats and Walter sits on the edge of his table, as he reads through his notes. He looks up, but his expression barely changes. Emphasis on barely. There is a slight shift in his eyes, but it’s hardly noticeable if you don’t know him that well. ‘Morning, miss Townsend.’

Like nothing ever happened between us.

‘Good morning, sir,’ I say, before walking up to my assigned seat. I should not let out a sigh of relief, but I still do. I tell myself I shouldn’t be this nervous, however it’s an impossible task. My leg moves up and down in a restless pace and my jaw is painfully clenched.

I try my best, but it is out of question to focus on the entire class. Thankfully, Walter must’ve noticed that my brain is everywhere but in this class, because he doesn’t call out my name once. For the first time in forever I don’t have any questions about the assignment, so when a few other students hang around after class, I manage to sneak passed them and make my way to the library.

My brain really is malfunctioning, because I keep staring at my screen, unable to do anything slightly productive. I look into my backpack, to see Walter’s sweater. About an hour has passed and maybe… Maybe I could bring it to him now?

I grab my phone and decide to just send him a text. I can take the first step after yesterday, right? I’m a big girl.

Me: Can I come over to your office now?

I don’t get an answer straight away, which is only fueling up the doubt that has been brewing inside my heart. Not quite the big girl after all.

What if he thought this was a mistake? Oh shit, the kiss was terrible, he hated it and I should therefore never ever kiss again!

My breathing stops when I see his answer.

Walter: Of course, princess 💕

I swallow hard. This is a good sign, right? The heart emoji and the nickname that led me to internally screaming all night indicate he didn’t think the kiss was terrible, what we did wasn’t a mistake and that we should totally kiss again.

Right?

The hallways are empty, as a lot of people are already back at their dorms due to the bad weather that is forecasted for later today. Normally, I would do the same, but I think I lingered around campus, so I had a chance of talking to Walter. I walk towards his office and knock on his door. I hear a deep and annoyed: ‘Come in’ and I take it as my cue to open the door.

‘Hello,’ I say, ‘you sure I can come in?’

He looks up from his desk and smiles. Small crowfeet appearing near the corners of his eyes, a tiny bit of evidence that he is genuinely happy to see me. ‘Of course Penny,’ he says, standing up from his seat. He walks towards the corner of his office, lifting some stuff up, to reveal a chair. He places it on the other side of his desk. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he says, holding out his hand.

All of this trouble for me? ‘I wasn’t planning on staying long.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says, waiting for me to take place on the chair and I quickly do so. When he sits on his own chair again, he asks: ‘How are you?’

That’s such a sweet and darling question of him. ‘I’m okay. I just came by to give you your sweater back.’ I pull it out of my bag and say: ‘Thank you for lending it to me.’

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘I washed it,’ I add, ‘since I kinda dropped some hot sauce on it. I hope you like my laundry detergent.’

I hand it over the table to him and he presses his nose against the fabric. ‘It smells great, thanks.’

I smile at him, since I can’t really stop it. He is so different around me, then he is when he’s a professor. There is no annoyance, no boredom. Only adoration if I’m correct. It feels good to be on the receiving end of it. ‘That was all actually. For once I don’t have questions.’

‘I see,’ Walter says. ‘You got a lot of work to do?’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. Just your class.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I should go. I have a few things I have to pick up from the grocery store anyway. Forgot some things yesterday,’ I say.

Walter nods. ‘Of course.’ While I said I should go, I can’t seem to stand up. Walter tilts his head and asks: ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Nothing,’ I whisper.

‘Is it… The kiss?’ he carefully asks. ‘Because if it is, I have to apologize. I was crossing multiple lines with that.’

I shake my head. ‘No, Walter, don’t worry about it. I enjoyed it. It’s just… It was my first kiss.’

His eyes enlarge, nearly rolling out of his sockets. The surprised emotion is one I haven’t seen with him in real life. I actually thought nothing could startle him. ‘Your first kiss?’ he repeats. A few seconds pass by slowly as he runs his fingers through his disheveled curls. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrug again. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant.’

He sighs. ‘I’m so sorry, princess.’

‘There is nothing to worry about. If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad this was my first kiss.’

He leans back in his seat. ‘Penelope Townsend,’ he says, with a slight smile on his lips. ‘You’re quite something.’

Oh shit, he uses my full name. That… That can’t be good, right? Panic is taking over and I quickly say: ‘I really have to go.’ I grab my backpack and shoot out of his little office space, not even waiting for him to say something.

My brain is fried.

On autopilot, I managed to find my way to the grocery store, where I buy more instant noodles. I don’t know why, but I even grab some hair products for Walter. It’s getting ridiculous that I’m actually going to buy this, but on the other hand, he told me I could help him out with those slightly dry locks of his.

I spend little to no time in my dorm, because I am unable to stop thinking about Walter. I shouldn’t have left like that, I think to myself. He now must think I don’t like him, when in reality: I like him a lot.

As I am pacing through the room, nearly ripping out my hair out of pure frustration, I hear the rain against the window. It’s mild, especially if you compare it to the forecasted weather. I check my weather app and realize that with this type thunderstorm, I really don’t want to be alone here.

Without even thinking about the pros and cons of this plan, I pack some stuff I need and when I walk outside, the bus to his place is thankfully already there. The clouds are turning a darker shade of grey, as I’m hopelessly walking around the block after I got off the bus. My sense of direction is severely lacking and it takes me awhile before I even see his building.

It starts to pour and I turn into a shivering mess. By the time I’m at his door and knocked on it, I realize that I should’ve called.

This, Penelope Townsend, was a very poorly thought out plan. This is terribly rude and there is no turning back now. Oh no, what if he thinks that—

‘Hey,’ Walter says when he opens the door and smiles as he notices it’s me. ‘What are you doing here, princess?’

He doesn’t seem mad, that is a good sign. ‘I am terribly sorry, Walter, I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I’m here even. Okay, I do know, because I don’t want to be alone with this weather, but I should’ve at least called you. I mean, you probably aren’t even in the mood to deal with me, which is totally understandable. I’m so sorry, please forget this ever happened and I’ll just go.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he says, holding my wrist tightly in his large hand, not allowing me to leave. ‘Come in.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m very sure. They say it’s gonna be shitty weather anyway and I’d hate if you had to go back. Besides, you’re soaking wet.’

‘You really sure I’m not bothering you?’ I ask, as he gently pulls me inside, still unsure whether or not I’m welcome.

‘Positive.’ He helps me out of my coat and tells me I can change in the bathroom. He grabs some of his own clothing and hands it to me. ‘Now, I’m gonna tidy up in here a bit,’ he says, ‘because I left some crime scene pictures around.’

I smile as I grab the clothing. ‘I should’ve called,’ I try to sort of apologize again, but he is having none of it.

‘Nonsense,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to call. You are always welcome here.’ He places his hand on my cheek, before pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. ‘Besides, I’m glad you’re here. I kinda missed you.’

I let out a chuckle. ‘Walter, I’m sorry I left your office. I was freaking out.’

‘I know,’ he says. Of course he knew. ‘It’s okay, Penny.’

‘It is?’

He nods. ‘Now get changed, you’re freezing.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After I changed into some of his clothing and hung my own clothes over the heater, I walk back into the living room, only to see him preparing some dinner in the kitchen.

That is such a domestic move.

‘Thank you for letting me stay here,’ I say, causing him to look over his shoulder. ‘I’m not great with this kind of weather.’

‘Figured,’ he chuckles. ‘You’re afraid?’

‘No,’ I answer, as I walk up to the counter. ‘Absolutely not.’ Almost on cue, a loud bang of thunder fills the room, causing me to yelp. ‘Okay, maybe a little.’

Walter starts to laugh. When I’m within arm reach of him, he lifts me up on the counter like I weigh nothing to him. ‘Sit still and be pretty, okay?’

I frown. ‘How am I supposed to be pretty?’

‘By being yourself,’ he says, ‘and smile at me from time to time. Seems doable, right?’

‘I can try,’ I say, a smile already appearing on my face. ‘What are you making?’

‘Some pasta,’ he answers. ‘You like that?’

‘I do,’ I say, pushing my glasses better on my nose. ‘I really do. Especially when someone else makes it. Don’t you have that, when someone else makes the food, it automatically tastes better?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

Leave it to him to be an exception. ‘Why not?’

‘I like making my own food,’ he says.

‘Hm.’ I lean my head back against the cupboard. ‘I really can’t cook well,’ I admit. ‘My mom was always the one that would make my meals back home. I’m a disaster in the kitchen, hence the reason I live on ramen, which I can easily screw up as well.’

Walter smiles, placing one hand on my leg, as he holds a wooden spoon to stir the sauce. ‘Here, taste this,’ he says, grabbing a string of pasta and blows on it so it can cool off a bit. He brings it to my lips and it’s such an automatic move to place my hand on his wrist.

‘It’s good,’ I say.

‘I’ll grab a plate for you. How about you get comfortable on the couch?’

I jump off the counter and walk towards the living room area. His couch looks kinda dull, in a beige tint that reminds me of my grandma’s wardrobe, but don’t be fooled: it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. I grab a blanket and place it over my lap.

Walter joins me, handing me the plate with pasta and sits next to me. It only takes a second, before I flinch as the thunder is now accompanied by lighting. ‘You’re so easily scared,’ he snickers. Without me doing it on purpose, I scoot closer to him. I know he cannot psychically protect me against it, but not being alone with weather like this, is a relief itself. ‘Careful, princess,’ he says, ‘it’s hot.’

As we eat in silence, I keep thinking about what I can say to him. ‘I brought some hair stuff with me,’ I say. ‘Bought some today.’

‘For me?’

I nod. ‘For you,’ I confirm. ‘Maybe you want to use it.’

‘Or you use it on me,’ he says. ‘I have no idea what I’m doing anyway.’

As I finish the pasta (which was delicious), he takes the plate from my hands and places it on the coffee table next to his own empty plate. ‘Come here,’ he says, pulling me closer in his warm and protective arms.

I wonder whether or not it’s odd that I’m this comfortable with him this soon. I usually have a warm up period of at least a few weeks when I meet new people. When I worked in a cafe back in Japan during my gap year, it took me a month before I wasn’t painfully shy with some of my coworkers.

But with Walter, I am still shy and sometimes a bit awkward, but it doesn’t feel unpleasant. It’s like he understands and is patient with me.

I place my legs over his and hold his hand in both of mine. My fingers trace over his knuckles, where I notice some slight scarring. ‘How did you get this one?’

‘Bar fight,’ he says, ‘before I joined the academy.’

‘You were that type of guy?’

Walter doesn’t say anything and when I look up, I see he is not even looking at me. He is staring at the window. ‘Yeah, something like that. In case you wondered: he kinda asked for it.’

There is so much I want to ask him. What he was like when he grew up. What he thought of the academy. Interesting cases he solved.

However, a loud bang brutally interrupts my thoughts. At the exact same time, the lights shut off. My breathing stops. Oh no, a power cut? I’m so glad I’m not in my dorm alone. I might’ve called Walter crying, ask him to risk his life so he could pick me up.

Good thing I’m already here.

‘Great,’ he mumbles, turning on the flashlight on his phone. ‘There isn’t much I can do,’ he says, ‘except wait for it to come back. You want me to light some candles?’

I hate the dark this much, that I quickly say” ‘Please.’

He stands up, but I hold on tightly to his hand. ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Can I walk with you?’

‘Of course.’ His fingers lace through mine and together we walk around his loft, looking for the candles and a lighter. We scatter them around the apartment and it gives a soft and warm ambiance, one that is slightly misplaced here in his loft. I can unclench my jaw from the painful grip and Walter pulls me back on the couch.

‘Did you feel awkward?’ I ask him. ‘In class today?’

He shakes his head. ‘But I know you did.’

I purse my lips together, as I feel completely caught. ‘Was I that obvious?’

‘Not to others, but to me you were.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t apologize for that. I just wished I knew what I could do for you to feel less awkward about it.’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Never thought my first… Whatever we have, would have to be in secret.’

He sighs, clearly agreeing with me. ‘I wish I could show you off,’ he says. ‘Wish I could tell Fitzgerald to stop ogling you.’

‘He doesn’t do that,’ I say.

Walter scoffs. ‘He totally does. It’s not even subtle anymore.’

I place my head against his chest, melting in his arms. I close my eyes, as I enjoy being engulfed in the warmness and protectiveness of his embrace.

No one has ever held me like this before.

‘Walter, why me?’

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Why are you even paying attention to me? I’m such a nobody.’

‘You’re not a nobody,’ Walter retorts. ‘I like you, Penny. You have an ethereal beauty, combined with an adorable and kind nature. It’s so rare to meet someone like you. I see that there is so much potential in you, no matter what you choose later on in life. It’s just that you don’t know it yet, which is such a shame really. Besides, princess, I’m not risking my job for simply anyone.’

As much as him being my professor should turn me away from it all, should make me walk towards the door and not associate myself with him anymore, I don’t feel that way. Part of me wants to hide my smile, but I can’t. ‘I kinda like you too.’

‘Just kinda?’ he asks, pretending to be offended. ‘What can I do to change that?’

I smile. ‘Kiss me again.’

He doesn’t answer, simply leaning towards me to press his soft lips on mine. One of hands squeezes my thigh, as I wrap my arms around his neck. It feels so good to kiss him. ‘Can’t believe yesterday was your first kiss,’ he whispers against my lips. ‘You’re quite talented, princess.’

‘I just follow your lead. I think that says more about your kissing skills than mine.’

‘Knew you were an excellent student.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The lights aren’t restored by the time I grow more and more tired. It’s Walter actually that tells me to go to bed. When I’m tucked away underneath the blankets in just his thick sweater, he sits on the edge of the bed. ‘I want you to be honest,’ he says in a stern voice. ‘Do you want me to sleep here or on the couch?’

It’s a sweet thing of him to ask, especially since it did cross my mind a few times. I grab his hand, my thumb caressing his knuckles. ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Why are you hesitating?’

‘Because… I don’t want you to think I’m a prude or anything.’

He smiles. ‘Princess, I can sleep on the couch. Don’t worry.’

I blink my eyes a few times, slightly nervous. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not. Just call for me when you need me, okay?’

‘Okay.’

He gives me a quick and loving kiss on my lips. Checking with me one last time, he carefully makes his way back to the living room. While I can hear him making himself comfortable on the couch, I roll around the bed. There is an inability of mine to fall asleep, something I barely encounter. There is this annoying, but also terrifying ticking like sound against the window and I can’t wrap my mind around it what exactly makes that noise.

The thunder and lightening are dominating the skies and my state of mind.

‘Walter?’ I finally ask him, after rolling around, being all ears and incapable of falling asleep for at least an hour. It takes only a few seconds before he walks into the bedroom. His hair is disheveled and he looks like a sleepy owl in a cartoon. It’s adorable, a word I never expected to use to describe him.

‘What’s wrong, princess?’ he asks me.

‘What is that noise?’

‘Just the water and a branch. It usually taps against the window from time to time.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry to wake you.’

‘Don’t be,’ he says. He leans against the doorframe. Despite it being dark, I can still see the contours of his large body. ‘You seem wide awake.’

‘I am,’ I admit. ‘It’s just that I can’t sleep. There is too much noise here I don’t know.’

‘Want me to join you?’

I nod, only to realize he might not be able to see it. ‘Please.’

He walks over to the bed and gets in underneath the covers. I can already feel his warm body heat closer to mine and I hold my breath. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Walter chuckles. ‘It’s just me.’

I can’t stop being “ridiculous”. I mean, I am completely overstepping all sorts of boundaries. I mean, I’m in my professors loft. The same professor who I kissed. Whose clothes I’m wearing.

Who I’m severely falling for.

Walter holds out his arm and I turn to my side, nuzzling against his warm frame. He only wears a simple shirt and a pair of boxers. ‘Why are you shivering?’

‘I’m a little scared.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s just all those new sounds and a different bed,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You have nothing to worry about,’ he says. I place my chin on his chest. As my eyes get used the dark, I can sort of see more of his face. I don’t have my glasses on, so it stay slightly blurry. ‘Nothing is gonna happen to you now, princess,’ he continues to say. ‘Not when I’m here.’

I smile. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s just all so new to me.’

‘Yet you adapt perfectly fine.’

I bite my bottom lip. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He places his hand on my cheek and leans a bit forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. It’s not my plan to deepen the kiss, but when someone’s lips taste this good, of course I don’t mind deepening it. His teeth slowly sink into my bottom lip, careful not to hurt me.

When he lets go of me, his hot breath tickles my already sensitive lips. Walter presses a kiss on my nose and whispers: ‘Go to sleep, princess. You seem tired.’

‘I am,’ I chuckle. ‘Quite the detective you are.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next morning when I wake up, I’m still engulfed in Walter’s arms. He looks so innocent and vulnerable when he sleeps. His hand has slipped underneath my shirt, his warm palm on my back. For a second, my mind wanders to a time where it’s more than this. More than just a hand on my bare back.

It’s about him seeing me naked, him touching me and whispering sweet nothings in my ears.

It doesn’t take long for Walter to wake up as well and he smiles when he sees I’m already up. ‘I don’t mind waking up like this,’ he admits. ‘Seeing your beautiful face first thing in the morning is a lovely surprise.’

Don’t blush, Penny. Don’t you dare blush.

‘Give me a kiss, princess,’ he says.

‘I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,’ I mumble.

‘Doesn’t matter to me.’ He leans in to give me a gentle peck on my lips, followed by a few more. I giggle against him, as his fingers softly—and probably unintentionally—tickle my sides. ‘I’ll go see if the power is back on,’ he says. ‘Want something to eat?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t really matter what.’

Walter kisses me one more time, before he gets up out of bed. It doesn’t take long before I slip out of the bed as well, putting on some socks and sweatpants.

This morning is the prime example of how a domestic couple behaves. I always envied my parents, for being able to find the love of their lives, living according to a certain routine with one another. I remember sitting at the dinner table, watching them dancing in the kitchen as mom would make dinner. I remember sitting in the backseat, hearing my parents sing along with the radio.

They have always been outgoing people, in complete contrast to me. Mom always comforted me telling me that one day I would find my soulmate. Dad always told me that the so called soulmate had to be approved by him.

I wonder what would happen if they found out I met Walter. It’s way too early to think about that, but my brain isn’t stopping this thought process. Especially when Walter lifts me up the counter. When he presses mindless kisses on my forehead. When he lets me use some of the products on his hair. He smiles when I massage his scalp as I’m washing his hair over the stink and use the conditioner on his dry hair.

It’s great to see Walter with his guard a bit down. Allowing me to see who he is hiding when he’s teaching and maybe when he was at work as a detective as well. His touches are soft, are kind and not once is he overstepping. He carefully reads me and my body language.

But at one point, I realize that it’s time for me to go back. My mom used to say to leave a party when it’s still fun, instead of waiting for the awkward moment where you are practically forced to leave after you overstayed.

With his curls nice dried and less frizzy, he drives me back towards the train station and the parking lot and the station itself are almost vacant. People are probably still hiding inside their houses, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the storm yet.

‘I hate that I have to drop you off here,’ he admits. ‘You have to walk for a while. Wait, I have an idea, you call me as you walk towards your dorm. I’ll leave here when I know you’re safe and sound in your room, okay?’

‘You really don’t have to do that,’ I chuckle. ‘I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.’

‘I know that,’ he says, ‘but I care a little too much about you. I don’t want anything to happen, okay?’

It’s nice to be taken care of like this. I could get used to this. ‘Okay,’ I say, before I give him a kiss. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too, princess.’ He pulls out his phone and says: ‘I’ll call you in a second.’

A second truly is a second, because my phone rings when I close the door. ‘Really?’ I ask him as I pick up the phone, still being able to see him.

‘Yes, really.’

I wave at him, as I walk towards the dormitory building, which is about a ten minute walk. ‘You have a cute walk,’ he says, when I’m out of sight for him. ‘There’s almost a little skip in it.’

‘Way to make me more self conscious than I already was.’

‘Ah, princess,’ he says, ‘don’t be like that. You have nothing to be self conscious about. You’re beautiful, you’re cute and you are the sweetest thing alive.’

‘Don’t say stuff like that. I’m blushing.’

I can hear his chuckles from the other side of the line. ‘Where are you now?’

‘I can see the dorms already. You really want me to call you until I’m in my room?’

‘Yes.’

I can’t argue with that determination. While I simply chat to him about the damage done by the storm, I see Fitzgerald near the entrance. Great, I really can’t use this now.

‘There she is,’ he says, when I open the door and walk passed him to get inside.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ Walter asks me.

‘Yes.’

‘He does that often?’

Correct me if I’m wrong, but he sounds kinda possessive. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Sugar plum,’ Fitzgerald says as he follows me inside. ‘I have a question for you.’

‘I’m on the phone,’ I tell him, hoping it’s enough for him to get lost. ‘Can’t really wait.’

It seems like he didn’t pick up on the underlying no in my answer. ‘Where have you been?’ Fitzgerald asks me.

My mouth grows dry. Does he know? Have Walter and I not been subtle enough? Oh my gosh, Fitzgerald totally knows. Do not start hyperventilate, stay calm, Penny. ‘Ask him if he’s stalking you,’ I hear Walter’s soft tone in my ear.

That seems doable. ‘You stalking me?’

He must be surprised that those words roll out of my mouth. I mean, I didn’t expect them from me either. ‘No, just wondering. Saw you getting on a bus after class.’

‘He really is stalking you,’ Walter says in my ear.

‘Sounds like you’re stalking me after all.’ Oh my goodness, Penny! What on earth is happening? I don’t know if I was supposed to repeat that.

Fitzgerald is flabbergasted to say the least and he actually walks away. Did I just do that? ‘He’s gone,’ I whisper.

‘That’s my girl,’ Walter chuckles. ‘Proud of you, princess. Asshole really doesn’t take no for an answer. I am tempted to fail him for my class.’

I start to laugh, as I make my way to my dorm. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I hate his guts.’

‘Don’t use the word hate,’ I scold him. ‘Instead, use the word despise.’

‘Not with him, I won’t.’

I quickly walk up the stairs and let out a deep sigh when I’m back in my own dorm. ‘I arrived safe and sound in my room,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for letting me stay over at your place. I really don’t do well in thunderstorms.’

‘Of course,’ he says, and I can almost hear the grin in his voice. ‘Can’t have you alone during a power cut. Also, it’s quite nice not to be alone.’

A certain vulnerability I was not expecting from him, let alone over the phone. ‘It sure was,’ I agree.

‘I’ll call you later,’ he tells me.

‘Alright, of course.’

‘Take care, princess.’

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #but professor

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wordsbeyondimagination · 3 years

Text

A Little Secret of Kiss

“Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend or should I plan a blind date for you?”

“Mom! Please. I don’t want to listen to anything,” you said stuffing your mouth with cup noodles. Your Mother has been bothering you about your boyfriend.

In the morning, after coming back from the gym, you got welcomed by a lady sitting comfortably on your couch. She had cleaned your room.

“Mom, what a surprise?” You were confused. You should be happy that you saw your Mom after so many days but it’s also clear that why she was there. No matter how happy you were but to feel irritated.

“Why your office gave you so small a room? But still, you don’t bother to clean it.”

She always wanted to meet your boyfriend. But currently, you have no boyfriend and there is no way that she was going to get convinced by your words. This is the result of getting friend-zoned always. It’s not wrong that you tried so many times to start a relationship with anybody but always ended up being friend-zoned and that’s the reason why you didn’t want a boyfriend anymore.

“You have two guy best friends but have no boyfriend. Are you this unattractive?”

“Ma… Can you please shut your mouth? I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“Are you still afraid that you will be friend-zoned?”

“Please, if you will talk anymore, I will send you back.” She clicked her tongue before shutting up.

You took out your phone and dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?”

“You don’t need to know,” you hissed but the person you were calling was not picking up.

“Yeah… Y/n, how come you call this morning.” Finally, Jaemin picked the phone.

“How much did you drink last night?” He growled.

“Who said that I drank yesterday? Does my morning voice sound that sexy?”

“Shut up. I need your help.” You hung up. And the next moment you heard a knock on your door. You opened the door.

“Jaemin, come in,” before you could warn him not to talk any nonsense, he had already started.

“Y/n, you had locked your door. It’s suspicious,” he shut his mouth the moment his eyes fell on your mother.

“Good Morning Aunt. Nice to see you in the morning.” He said scratching the back of his neck.

“Nice to see you Jaemin. And where is Jeno?”

“Mom, I don’t think he is up yet.” You intervened, you had to because you never want your best friend to feel awkward when your mother asks him to be your boyfriend.

“Jae, can you book a hotel for Mom?”

“Why a hotel? I want to live with you.”

“Mom, it won’t be convenient, you can see the size of the room.” Thank god! She was convinced with the reason or else she would have opened a blind dating sight in the room.

“Where is your kitchen? I will make something for you.”

“Yeah, sure Aunt, you can use my kitchen. Y/n’s fridge is empty.”

“Oh dear, you care about her.” And the next moment she was shoved out of the room.

“Wait, wait, okay, just tell Jeno to join.”

“Okay, I will ask him.”

Then in the room, you and Jaemin were there and you were giving him the apologetic look for causing this chaos and he was going to the hotel booking sights.

“You don’t look drunk!”

“Yeah, who said I drank?”

“But you went to bar last night. And Jeno got a dunk.”

“Yeah, we went but we only drank mocktails, we never went to cocktails. And Jeno never drank he was the first one to head home. I came also came to check on him and saw him sleeping.”

Your mind went back to last night. Around 8 pm, when you heard a knock. When you opened the door, you were welcomed by a drunk Jeno, and all of a sudden, he closed the distance between you two and placed his lips on yours. When you realized the moment, he had already started to move his lips. You tried to shove him until your eyes closed. And the next moment you were kissing him. Both on your couch and lips moving in sync, tongues colliding and breathless. But before things could elevate, you pulled out, he also sat up and without saying anything marched out of your room.

Correct, he wasn’t drunk, he never had the smell of any alcohol. That means he was fully conscious when he was kissing me, he knew what he was doing, it was never a mistake.

When you realized, your face heats up.

“Y/n, what happened you zoned out?” Jaemin’s voice snapped you out of your thought.

“Huh? Nothing.”

“Then I will talk with Aunt about the hotel. I am going to wake Jeno.” He left and again your mind went to Jeno.

Indeed, he was hot. Your chemistry with Jaemin was good because you were like siblings but Jeno was of different species. The moment you saw him, he felt that he was too hot for you. But as you became friends, you came across a warm Jeno with a sweet eye smile. He always thought about you and treated you nicely but all those years of being friend-zoned made you blind to his love. You were too blind to understand his love language. But the constant heartbeats when he talked with you, or you were alone with him. Just the thing was, he never approached you and you never understood him. It was also a hard time for Jeno to resist your lips, your sweetness, and of course your care. You two had already set up a different world but never accepted the feelings.

And there was no way that you could say your Mom that you were just kissed by your best friend when he was fully sober but acted like a drunk. It was sure that he liked you but never expressed. You had no idea that even if he will confess to you or not.

You went to the kitchen where your mother had already set up the table.

“Y/n, I was just about to call you. Where are Jeno and Jaemin?”

“Yeah, Jae has gone to wake him.”

“Hey, I think Jaemin is suitable for you,” she whispered to you eventually getting elbowed by you.

“Mom, stop it, he is like my brother.”

“Okay, okay, whatever.” You made her disappointed this time.

Jeno and Jaemin entered the kitchen.

“Good Morning Aunt, I didn’t know that you came. Jae just told me that it’s a surprise.”

“Aunt’s breakfast is the surprise.” Everyone laughed at his statement.

Throughout the breakfast, Jeno and you never dared to make eye contact with each other. The silence was not awkward just of the pleasant and satisfying food that they hadn’t since long. But still, Jaemin decided to break the silence.

“Jeno, do you know why Aunt has come?”

“Jaemin, concentrate on eating, don’t talk nonsense.” But he just went on.

“She wants to set up Y/n with somebody. She has also arranged a blind date for her. Jeno, now Y/n won’t hang with us instead she will go on dates with her boyfriend.” He said with a fake sadness in his voice that was rather mocking.

“Jeno, just imagine Y/n dating somebody.” He said and laughed, your mother was no less than Jaemin, she was also enjoying. But the blood of Jeno was boiling. You could feel his piercing gazes that straight went inside your soul. And poor you, you were trying hard to avoid his eyes.

Jeno stood up from his place. “Aunt, excuse me, I have some errands to run.” You sighed in relief when he said this.

“Y/n, you have your day off, so come with me.”

“No Mom, not any more blind dates.” She again clicked her tongue and you had no other option than to go with her.

“Jaemin, do you want to come with us?”

“I am going to sleep all day.” He was just too lazy to move.

After the full retiring day, you finally reached your apartment, your Mom took you shopping. She shopped for you, her, and your siblings. The whole day you moved from one shop to another, now, your legs were begging you for rest.

Jaemin met you at the entrance, “Hey, how your date went?” he said grinning.

“Jae, I was shopping for Mom all day.”

“Ohhhhh… enjoy. I am going for walk. If you want anything text me.”

“Okay, bye.”

You came to the room, but your room was not locked. You remembered locking it, and the spare keys were with Jaemin and Jeno, if Jamin was heading out then the only person inside was….

You slowly opened the door to see Jeno sitting on your chair.

“Jeno? Do you need anything?” you wanted to sound as normal as possible.

“Had fun on the blind date?” he said sarcastically. His little laugh was bitter and his mood was sour. That irritated you. It was his fault that he never confessed you. But you wanted to push his boundaries.

“Yeah, had fun. He is a good guy,” you said mocking. You had pushed far.

The next moment, he pulled you and laid you on the couch with him on top of you. His lips on your neck, he was behaving like a beast and you as his prey. Your strength was negligible to shove him from you.

“Jeno stop it, please Jeno.” He stopped, he realized that he will lose you if he didn’t stop. He sat beside you on the couch. He was guilty of his actions.

You didn’t want any kind of explanation from him. You stood up. But he was faster and hugged you from the back.

“I am sorry, I like you Y/n, and I don’t want to lose you to any stranger.”

“Jeno, if you like me, you could’ve confessed me.”

“But I was afraid that it will affect our friendship.”

“I like you.”

“Huh?” his grip loosened and he stood still. You turned to him.

“I like you or why else a girl would kiss you back.”

His facial expression was unreadable, he didn’t say anything and that made your heart drop. Disappointment washed over you. And now, you were looking at the ground with eyes full of water.

He embraced you and his warmth was comfortable. He seemed smiling, and your tears dropped on his shirt.

“Let’s go to Aunt tomorrow and say that you have a boyfriend now. So, she should stop looking for a partner for you.”

#nct #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno fanfic #jeno fluff #jeno angst #fanfic

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crowtrinkets · 3 years

Text

Barista’s Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 3: Cat Girls Are Ruining My Tea Party

Word Count: 1,405

The Barista finds the Holy Knight but it is not what they expected

Pt 1, Pt2,

SUPRISE SHAWTIES sorry for taking such a long time I promise I'm still writing I've just been busy ;u; I am also a little rusty on my writing so please forgive, next chapter we meet a certain dramatic queen

---

More dirt, more trees, more seemingly endless paths that I trudge down.

"Sage gives out horrible directions, I wouldn't be surprised if I passed this Holy Knight already," I mutter to myself. I know this may be a dream but I make a note to never take directions from cat men again. I stop in my tracks to try and gather my bearings, leaning against a tree I try to recall just how many turns and loops I took. My foot then slips on the dirt and I begin to roll down a drop in the path. I don't even have time to scream before I am meeting a hard wooden surface. Various glass items surrounding me crash onto the ground and I hear multiple gasps around me. I let out a groan and run my hand across my face. I will definitely feel this tomorrow, in the morning? When I wake up? I'm not sure all I know is that hurt. Suddenly the sound of boots on wood approaches me. I look up squinting, still recovering from my tumble. I see the silhouette of a person, fire in their hand, and something pointing directly at my face.

"I knew you were coming for me assassin, however, that was the most pathetic approach I've ever seen!" they say to me. The flame in their hand grows bigger and my heart begins to pound.

"I-I'm sorry, but I'm not an assassin," I squint my eyes harder trying to make out any features of this person threatening me.

"Well you sure aren't dressed like one," a smoother voice to my left speaks up. I look over to see a woman. "Now now Anisa, you're scaring this poor soul, I doubt they could even hurt a fly," she says. "Anisa" pauses for a second and lets her flame emitting from her palm die out.

"Yes I guess you are correct, my apologies," she reaches a gloved hand out to me which I grab. When I finally meet Anisa's face I flush. She has some of the brightest green eyes I've ever seen, and her smile is so warm and inviting despite her threatening me a second ago. A large colorful bow sits on her half updo, it is covered in frills and lace. I am brought to my feet and realize the object Anisa was pointing at me was a baguette? Not the strangest thing I've seen here though.

Taking in my surroundings I realize Anisa and I are standing on a table and various tea sets surround us, Although most of it is broken due to my entrance.

"Ah, I'm sorry for ruining your... tea party?" I apologize weakly. Anisa descends off the table, still holding my hand and helping me down.

"My, Anisa, don't go catching too many hearts," the woman from before says. Now that I have gathered myself I can fully take in the woman's features, she has cat like ears, similar to the man Sage I met earlier, they flick when her stunning eyes meet mine, a smirk plastered on her lips, her dyed curls seem to shine in the light and I have to stop myself from gawking.

"Speak for yourself," I hear Anisa mutter. She releases my hand and takes a step back to bow to me. "My name is Anisa, I am the Holy Knight around here, and she is-"

"Ayanna, but you can just call me any time," she says with a wink.

I flush for what feels like the millionth time.

"Oh uh, nice to meet you my name is-"

"Stop going around flirting with everyone that comes round! Besides we have no room," Anisa walks over and onto the other side of the table and plants herself on a stool making the whole table shake.

"Oh please, I wasn't flirting, just being polite and there's nothing wrong with them staying for a bit," Ayanna then turns to me "Would you like some wine dear?" I hesitate my answer when I remember my last encounter with wine. But I am once again interrupted by the two women in front of me.

"They do not need any wine! And as I told you we have no room," Anisa crosses her arms and faces away from Ayanna. I look down the long table and see plenty of empty chairs, none with place cards as well so Anisa's concept of them having "no room" confuses me.

"Well maybe if they answer this riddle they might sit with us?" Ayanna purrs. Anisa shoots me a toothy smile, I swear for a second they glint in the light.

"Well, dear Traveler,"

"Uh- Barista," I correct.

"Yes Barista, tell me, why is a cat like a teacup?" at the mention of the word cat, a black and white fluffy mass rises from one of the chairs and hops onto the table. A cat with no tail and large green eyes sits between Ayanna and Anisa and stares at me. I hold in a chuckle as her tongue sticks out.

"Well, they're similar because... uh because," I've never been good at riddles but this one doesn't even make the slightest bit of sense. I think for a second but my train of thought is interrupted by my stomach growling.

Right the dinner, I'm here for directions, not tea and nonsensical riddles. I turn towards the women who stare at me with idle curiosity, and some sort of hunger that unnerves and excites me.

"I actually can't stay, I just need to be pointed in the direction of the queen's dinner party?" Ayanna and Anisa both glance at each other in surprise, I swear for a second the tail-less cat also looks at me in shock. Anisa rises from her chair and walks over to the table so she can meet me on the other side. She grabs hold of my hands.

"Oh you can't go to that dinner, the queen has been quite crossed lately, he may rip out your soul just for looking at him funny,"

"M-my soul?" I almost laugh in disbelief. Ayanna stands causing her chair to squeak.

"No you've got it all wrong, it's not the queen who's been upset, it's the king, the queen is more of a. . . a figurehead I guess you could say," Ayanna gestures nonchalantly.

"King? all this time I've only been hearing about this queen, so they're married?" I question. Anisa lets out a snort.

"Oh no! It's more of an unfortunate partnership, like a business deal," gripping my hands tighter Anisa looks off in the distance, a tinge of pain behind her eyes. "The king shouldn't even be alive, I killed him myself," she mutters. I feel my heart skip a beat. Did she just say that? Ayanna tuts as she listens to us.

"Anisa, dramatic as always, just because you are a knight does not mean you need to save the whole world," she swirls her glass of wine before taking a sip. Anisa drops my hands and turns towards her.

"I am merely fixing the mistakes of the past, mother,"

"Anisa, don't you dare-"

"Oh look seems like we're out of tea," Anisa quips, she then grabs the tailless cat and a teapot and walks off into the forest, Ayanna follows behind, and a string of arguments slews out from them as they walk.

Feeling awkward, I rub my arms and wince when a stinging on my forearm catches me. I look and realize I must have cut myself when I landed on that table. Hissing I use my hand to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I freeze when my hand starts to glow.

"Why does this keep happening?" The light grows brighter and I shut my eyes so I am not blinded. When the light dissipates I look at my arm and see the cut is now gone, not believing it I look at my hand where I cut myself earlier and see that it is gone as well.

"Hey, that's convenient,"

I stand in silence for a minute, trying to ponder the strangest tea party I have ever attended and the strange healing magic I just performed. Was that even magic? Or am I just an amazing lucid dreamer. I look back at the spot where I fell and snag a cookie before following a path that trails off in the opposite direction of the strange women I just met

#fictif #last legacy #fictif last legacy #last legacy fictif #fictif felix #fictif anisa #fictif sage #fictif ayanna #fictif fanfic #fictif fic #fanfiction #crow writes

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inkdemonapologist · 3 years

Photo

In that Cthulhu game, Thomas Connor was the coworker we were ORIGINALLY trying to rescue from a weird cult before all this NONSENSE started, and we finally did!! We realised we should probably give him a heads up that the Terrifying Eldritch Bendy-Lookin Monster was on our side, but uh, Sammy did not really do a good job at conveying this.

More out of context quotes for Session 7 under the cut!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] I'd just like to highlight that, I think this is the first time, in the WHOLE scenario, that Joey and Sammy are actually in their own bodies!

[Henry] I think Henry is gonna scoop the Lurker out of Joey's arms -- [Joey] *whining softly* noooooo, [Henry] -- and put 'im back on his shoulders. [Joey] nOOOOO!! [Henry] What? [Joey] NO! Joey is carrying him now! You're gonna have to fight Joey for this. [Sammy] (*laughing* Sorry, Bendy belongs to Joey now, you know how it goes--) [Henry's player is abruptly disconnected from the call] [GM] Oop, Joey steals Bendy, Henry leaves!

[GM] I want it to be known that the Lurker blinked, all kinda puzzled, when it got ruffled.

[Joey] Joey specifically has an insanity of not being able to do things well if away from Henry and Sammy, so, yeah, he's going to insist on going with them. [GM] This is going to be interesting when they get back to the Studio... [Joey] Joey just spends more time out of his office, wandering between the Music and the Art Department,,, it's fine! [Sammy] Oh, just what I needed, more distractions!

[GM] Oh gee, where is our map... no, that's the Haiti map, [GM] Which I don't know why they include, honestly. If people just take off into the Whole Of Haiti, I feel like things have gone terribly wrong!

[Sammy] It's deserted enough, he'll go ahead and put on the mask, by the way. [GM] Make Spot(hidden) checks. [Sammy] *rolls terribly* HRM. Well. [Joey] Sammy has put on the mask! [Sammy] I... see... the inside of the mask,

[Joey] I was wondering how old you are? [GM] The Lurker looks down at his fingers, seems to decide this is entirely inadequate, and then kinda shrugs.

[Joey] Do we want to try to listen in to the huts and see if we hear snoring? [Sammy] We have the Lurker! [Joey] I'm trying to understand the phrase "we have the Lurker," are you implying that we’re just like, "time to kill everyone!" [Sammy] .......... I mean, yeah?

[Henry] Once we have Tom, then, if needed, we can set the Lurker loose. [Joey] If he's interested in that. [Henry] Well, he always seems pretty gung-ho for murder! [Joey] *looks at the Lurker* [GM] He kinda shrugs with a smile. "There's not a lot to do up here!"

[GM] Tom's more baffled than offended, just, this is not what he expected, Joey Drew in the middle of the night trying to rescue him from a cult. [Sammy] (Do any of us ever expect that, really?)

[Joey] We have a bit of help with us. Please do not punch our help. [GM, as Tom] He rolls his eyes, but nods. "As long as they don't wake me up when I'm sleeping, we should be fine." [Joey] *taking this personally* Did you want me to wait until morning? Would you like to go lie down again?

[Sammy] (Tom "Let's Just Punch The Door Open" Connor is not good at stealth? WHAT A SURPRISE!)

[Sammy] Sammy will make sure the amulet is not visible on his person, so I guess he's going to have to finally button up his shirt. [Joey] *sad Joey noises in the distance*

[Henry] Henry is going to mentally poke the Lurker, and-- [Sammy] ("How's it going!") [Joey] ("'sup dude?") [Sammy] ("ARE YA WINNING, SON?")

[Henry] Henry is going to tell the Lurker that he can come back if he wants -- [Joey] (Or you can keep playing with your friends!) [Henry] -- or you can keep having fun, I guess! [GM] Henry can almost feel the Lurker light up, but it's at the coming along bit. [Sammy] (OH NO. NO NO NO) [Henry] (NO THAT'S TOO CUTE!!!)

[Joey] Sorry, Joey is still rolling terribly on his smart dice.

[Sammy] Sammy's gonna try to hold Joey down-- [GM] About then, the Lurker shows up! [Sammy] Oh, nevermind, Sammy's not paying attention to Joey.

*trying to get the Lurker to carry an injured Joey* [Sammy] Okay, cool. Sammy will heft Joey up and, uh, offer him up to the Lurker, I guess. [Henry] (A GIFT, FOR MY LORD!)

[Sammy] Look, if Tom runs off at this point, that's a personal problem that we no longer have to deal with!

[GM] Tom wants to know if you know where a hospital is. [Sammy] Uh, DO we know where a hospital is? [Henry] ....technically -- [Sammy] Not that one.

[GM] Make a s-- [GM] --no, wait, you're not in the-- [GM] --yeah, nevermind! : ) Later. [everyone in unison] uuuUUHHHHHHH???? [Henry] DM???? DM?????? [Sammy] EXTREMELY OMINOUS, [Joey] Looks at all the different skills that start with S,,, [Sammy] Anyway yeah! We won't make any checks, because everything's fine!!

[Joey] Joey is going to do his best to look like a completely normal well-composed person!

[GM] "How did you know we would be here?" [Joey] I didn't. I've been carrying this for quite a while. [Sammy] (I MEAN, HE'S TELLING THE TRUTH, TECHNICALLY,) [GM] "You just... happened to be in the cemetery?" [Joey] I'm doing research! For a Halloween cartoon. Where else am I going to be? [GM] ...I don't think this actually requires a Fast Talk roll.

[GM] Meanwhile, Sammy gets to make a roll to see how long it takes them to find a cab at 6 am! [Sammy] Is this a luck roll? I'm super good at those. [Sammy] *rolls* [Sammy] Uh. A while. [GM] Probably Joey's able to catch up before Sammy manages to flag down a cab. [Sammy] I like the idea that it's not that we haven't found a cab, it's that we haven't managed to flag one down. [GM] One stopped; Sammy did such awful French it drove away. [Sammy] One drives by, it doesn't even stop; Sammy just swears at it,

[Sammy] Sammy will look him over and just ask, "how'd it go?" [Joey] Joey winks at him. [GM] The Lurker does it too. [GM] Experimentally.

[Joey] Joey wants to grab the first cab, shove Tom in it, shove some money in his lap, and French the cab driver to take him to a normal hospital. [Sammy] (tHANKS FOR THAT WORDING,) [GM] That's one way to Fast Talk!

[GM] Well, Joey, you are considering that Bruce Northeast may be a fine anthropologist and studier of cultures, but he is an amateur of the occult, and you brush him aside and start correcting mistakes. [Henry] This feels right.

[Lurker] So you know before, when you were all gung-ho about helping, with the host and the ritual, and serving and all, [Sammy] ... [Lurker] And you kept talking about sheep? [Sammy] Ah.

[Joey] How big is this ritual circle? [GM] I mean, game-size, big summoning circle situation? [Henry] Yeah, y'know, summoning circle size!

[Sammy] (WELL here's the thing: when we made this plan, THE LURKER WASN'T OUR SON.)

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #when in doubt just keep drawing #sammy lawrence #Thomas Connor #sammy is Very Good At Acting Sane

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plainbrunettelbl · 4 years

Text

ABO (A) Rancher Bakugo Katsuki x (O) Mail Order Bride Reader Train Ride to a New Life (Chapter Two)

Word count: 2255

Warning: None.

Title: ABO (A) Rancher Bakugo Katsuki x (O) Mail Order Bride Reader Train Ride to a New Life (Chapter Two)

Summary: Cooking for Bakugo didn’t go as planned and you seemed to pick up a new friend.

(Gif not mine)

💥-It was just a week after you asked for his pillow.

💥-You still hadn’t bonded yet but it was getting there. You would now kiss him on the cheek before he left to manage the ranch for the day. You were used to doing chores around the house for your parents but nothing could prepare you for the early hours.

💥-Bakugo was used to getting up before the sun. You were not.

💥-You still were stubborn in waking up to cook him a breakfast though. Even when he could see you dead on your feet stirring the oatmeal you were both lovingly and sleepily making for him.

💥-He didn’t like a lot of sugar in his diet but the way you added brown sugar and cinnamon in the oatmeal made his mouth water and heart warm. Plus it was kinda nice to have someone who cared enough about him to wake up and make him breakfast.

💥-He was used to the fried eggs and a cup of coffee before heading out to check on his cattle. The darkness of the house when the sun wasn’t quite up yet always kept him company during those times.

💥-Now he had your cute bedhead and half-lidded eyes to greet him in the morning. His heart couldn’t stop beating at the sight of your adorable frame yawning over the stove.

💥-You would still be in your nightgown, fully prepare to crawl back into your nest and get a few more hours of sleep before finally waking up for the day.

💥-You stood in front of the doorway. He held yesterday’s leftovers in a metal lunch pail to eat later on in the day. You had half a mind to buy him another considering it looked a little rough around the edges.

💥-“Have a good day, Alpha.” You sweetly said, looking up into his eyes.

💥-Before he could get his cowboy hat from the hook you snatched it up and delicately placed it on his spiky locks. His Alpha all but sat down like a puppy.

💥-“Aren’t you looking handsome today.” You would smile before pecking a kiss on his cheek and send him on his way. He had to wait five minutes after he left the house before he could mount his horse.

💥-He was sure if he didn’t he would ride Fred straight into a fence.

💥-Your Omega would eye his door as you passed it down the hall to get to your room.

💥-She desperately wanted to sleep surrounded by his scent.

💥-The pillow was great but your Omega couldn’t get enough. She wanted to make a nest on his bed and burrow in it for hours. You blushed at the thought. You didn’t have much experience with men so everything was still so new to you.

💥-You hoped you didn’t mess anything up.

💥-You would push away those thoughts before coming back to your room and cuddling with the pillow he gave you.

💥-You would get there, in time.

***

💥-You placed a steaming plate in front of him. You couldn’t wait for him to try it.

💥-“I followed all of your tips on how you cook your steak. You made it so well last time. I hope I cooked it right.” You nervously stood by the table.

💥-“I am sure it’s fine. You didn’t have to go through all of the trouble, Y/N.” He didn’t want to make you feel like you were forced to cook for him. He didn’t mind spending time in the kitchen.

💥-“Nonsense. You just spent all day under the blistering sun, you need a good meal to keep you upright. I wouldn’t want my Alpha wasting away on me.” You hid snicker when you saw his cheeks flush red at your words.

💥-He didn’t know what to say to that so he just got to work on cutting a bite for him to try. He lifted it to his mouth and chewed. You know you hadn’t known him long but you could tell something was off in his expression even when he tried to keep it neutral.

💥-“What’s wrong? Did I overcook it?” You asked, leaning over to look at the color of the steak.

💥-“It’s good.” He said, holding back an odd expression.

💥-“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” You pleaded, hoping to correct your mistake for next time.

💥-“Why did you add cinnamon?” He asked, genuinely perplexed.

💥-“Cinnamon?” You repeated, your heart dropping into your stomach.

💥-You quickly picked up his fork and knife before cutting yourself a bit. You chewed a few times before grimacing.

💥-“Oh no.” You breathed, sadness blooming in your chest. You ruined two perfectly good steaks. You rushed back to the kitchen and saw the offending spice sitting on the counter among the others.

💥-You had grabbed cinnamon instead of cumin.

💥-You leaned against the counter, tears pooling into your eyes. You knew it wasn’t something to cry over but your emotions were all over the place. Starting a new life was stressful.

💥-You didn’t hear him come in.

💥-Before you knew it two tanned arms wrapped around you from behind. A soft purr was coming from the Alpha. Hoping he didn’t cross a line he leaned down and scented you. He was hoping to calm you down.

💥-You melted like butter.

💥-“I didn’t say it was bad, Omega. I was just wondering why you added it in.” He muttered, his breath warming your neck as he spoke.

💥-It sent tingles up your spine.

💥-“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, bring up your hands to lay on top of his.

💥-“There is nothing to be sorry for, Omega.” He assured, squeezing you a bit more tightly.

💥-“I’ll make you something else for lunch tomorrow. You don’t have to eat it. Since I messed it up I don’t mind having it.” You said, turning around in his arms.

💥-You sad eyes meeting his concerned ones. His gaze hardened a bit at your words.

💥-“No way. You made it for me. Of course, I am gonna eat it.” He replied, certainty in his voice.

💥-“I want you to have a good meal. Not one that you have to force down.” You said, determined to change his mind.

💥-Lunch was his only break for the day. You didn’t want to ruin it for him.

💥-“I will savor every bite, Omega.” He smiled, loving your stern face.

💥-“But..” Before you could argue some more he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips.

💥-You could taste the cinnamon on his tongue.

***

💥-“We need to head into town later today,” Bakugo stated, digging into his eggs.

💥-“Oh? I was gonna ask you when I could go into town for groceries. We are running low on a few things.” You hummed, sipping your coffee.

💥-“I have been meaning to leave you some money.” He realized, leaning back in his chair.

💥-“Money? For groceries?” You asked.

💥-“No. I will give you money for that. No, money that you can spend freely.” He said, clasping his hands together.

💥-“I don’t need it, Alpha. I already have what I need.” You said, refusing the thought of taking his hard-earned money.

💥-“I want you to buy what you want, not what you need.” He said, his voice not taking no for an answer.

💥-“But it is your money.” You rushed, feeling uncomfortable at the thought.

💥-“Our money.” He corrected, his voice going a bit deeper. His Alpha wanted to provide for you.

💥-You looked at him unsure how to respond.

💥-“It is our money, Omega. We are gonna be bonded in the future so what is mine is yours. Plus I make money so I can spend it on my mate.” He said, leaning over and taking your hand in his.

💥-Your heart warmed at his words. He was such a kind and thoughtful Alpha.

💥-“Okay.” You whispered, looking down at your plate.

💥-You would take his money but it didn’t mean you would spend it.

***

💥-Bakugo said he was going to check something down at the lumber mill. He wanted to meet with the owner about a deal for the wood he wanted to buy to add more fences on the ranch.

💥-He said something about how the owner Shoto and he didn’t get along too well but he thought he would bargain with him anyways.

💥-He parked the horse and wagon outside of town.

💥-While you were walking into town you noticed you got a few looks from the townspeople. They started oddly at your Alpha holding your arm. It was like they were astonished by something.

💥-You wondered what that was about.

💥-You bid him farewell and told him you would meet him back at the wagon. You walked into the general store and looked for what you needed. While comparing prices on different brands of flour you overheard the conversation in the next aisle.

💥-“I heard Bakugo walked into town with an Omega on his arm.” A girl whispered.

💥-“What? Bakugo?” Another questioned.

💥-“Yes. I can’t believe it myself. How did he get an Omega? Most don’t even want to walk next to him.” The first voice replied.

💥-“He is known to be a little hot-tempered. I feel bad for the poor thing.” The second voice sighed.

💥-Before you could hear more they walked off. What did they mean by that? The Alpha you knew was nothing short but kind and caring. You pondered their conversation before choosing your flour and purchasing your things.

💥-You smiled as the purple-haired Alpha packed up your things. He seemed nice. You wished him goodbye before walking out with your purchases.

💥-You had walked back to the wagon no problem. You set your stuff into the back and say in the front. You were admiring the landscape before you heard something rustle within the trees.

💥-The sound startled you. You eyed the treeline, afraid of what was lurking. Could it be a wild bear? Wolf? Before your mind could conjure up any more scary animals and small figure bursts out from the bushes.

💥-It seemed to be a puppy.

💥-You awed at the sight. You jumped down from the wagon and walked its way.

💥-“Hello. Are you by yourself?” You asked, squatting down and letting it sniff your hand.

💥-It was pretty quick to trust you, within a second it was on its back wanting you to pet his belly. You giggled and did just that. He was a little dirty and matted, he was likely a stray.

💥-He was so pretty, he had black, brown, and white spots. His eyes were an icy blue.

💥-“Do you want to come to sit with me? It can’t be safe for you in the woods.” You cooed, picking up the small ball of fur before making your way back to the wagon.

💥-You wished you had something to feed him you felt his ribs against your hands as you carried him.

💥-He was content sleeping by your side. You continued to stroke his head while he slept. You wondered if Bakugo would mind having a dog. You hoped he didn’t mind the new addition.

💥-Before you could think up of something to get him to agree to the puppy you heard footsteps coming up to the wagon. You quietly covered the puppy with your dress. He didn’t sit to close to you to notice the lump.

💥-“I finally got that bastard to agree. He nearly rose it up twice the amount I had in mind. Luckily we met in the middle.” He grumbled, climbing up next to you.

💥-“That’s good.” You commented, hoping the puppy wouldn’t wake up.

💥-“Yeah. He is gonna have it delivered to the house in a week. I am gonna be busy digging the holes for the posts.” He said, urging the horse to move.

💥-“What are you building fences for?” You wondered, keeping a hand on the puppy so it didn’t fall.

💥-“I’m getting a Brahma bull lent to me by another rancher. We want them to breed with my girls. I need to keep them in a fence together to higher their chances. The other fences are for other things I might add later on.” He said, eyes on the road.

💥-You don’t think you ever saw a bull before. You wondered if there were as mean as they said. You didn’t have time to think about that for too long before your dress started rustling.

💥-A small yap was heard before the puppy started chewing on your dress. Bakugo was quick to halt the wagon.

💥-“You hear that?” He asked, looking around.

💥-You didn’t know what to say. Apparently, you didn’t have to do any talking before your furry friend escaped from under your dress and pounced onto your lap. He was smiling up at you with his tongue out.

💥-Your Alpha’s shocked face made you burst out laughing. He looked too cute.

💥-“So what do you think about adding to our little family?” You giggled, loving the way he blushed when you mentioned family.

I know nothing really happened but I have might continue this into a third part. So many of you liked it and I have a few ideas in mind. I am not gonna call it a series since my brain suddenly turns empty when I label fics that.

I hope you liked this chapter all the same.

The western AUs I write are gonna take place in the same town so everything is gonna be connected so look out for that. Thanks for the support. 💕

P.S The dog is a puppy Collie. They are cute. Check them out.

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spkothdvldotmp3 · 3 years

Text

so remember last july when i thought to myself, "haha, wouldn't it be cool if i made a mechsona?"

well, turns out a year of living with that thought in the back of your head will only get you 4,977 nearly 5,000 words of backstory and a spotify playlist, so, solid 7/10 experience

(okay look, Day 2 of the Mechtober prompts was the most coincidentally perfect overlap of "Mechsona" and "Blood," so I finally decided to stop being a coward and actually let people who aren't my classmates see this. ALSO, quick warnings for violence and death, if you're a bit squeamish about those sorts of things. So, with that said, the story itself...)

Introducing!

La Vie en Rouge

Dear Reader:

In this strange world, so bright and so bold

You may, somehow, find a Tale Yet Untold

You could read one now, if you so choose

This Tale- of the Blood-Red Dancing Shoes.

It had started like any other day. And not even an interesting kind of “any other day,” like a Saturday, which always promises adventure, or a Thursday, which has a tendency towards mystery. No, this was a Tuesday kind of “any other day,” which merely meant inescapable boredom.

At the very least, that’s how it started.

However, as Adeline Troffea was leaving her house, she heard the trumpets that signaled Lord Vitus’ arrival. She groaned. A visit from Vitus- sorry, His Most Esteemed Lord Vitus, she snorted as she mentally corrected herself- never went well. He was a deeply unpleasant person to be around, as he looked like a spoiled child and acted twice as bad. Additionally, he was usually about two seconds away from screaming nonsensically at any townsfolk who bothered him, like some sort of Saturday-morning-cartoon villain. Sometimes Adeline was sure he must be doing it on purpose- his ridiculous moustache (twirled oh-so-carefully at the ends), his pale skin and delicate hands (that had clearly never done anything harder than gesture dramatically from the shade provided by his servants), the too-fine crowns and jewels and capes his draped himself in (who even needed more than one crown? Isn’t that too excessive, even for Vitus?)- he couldn’t be for real, right?

Reader, Lord Vitus would prove himself to be more real than Adeline could imagine before this story’s end. But we’ll get to that in time.

Hopefully, Adeline thought to herself, walking down the well-trodden path into town, I can be in and out of the market before Vitus takes a single dainty step out of his carriage. Fabien, her best friend (practically an older brother, really) as well as the town’s shoemaker, had promised her something special today- an early birthday present, he had called it the day before, as the birthday in question was “an entire week and a day away” and he didn’t know if his “poor, old heart” would hold out that long.

“Fabien, you’re barely 30!” she had protested, shaking her head.

“I know, Addie, I’m ancient!” he’d moaned, before adopting the affectation of what was probably supposed to sound like an old man, but instead sounded more like a wheezing duck. “I can feel my brittle bones crackin’. They ain’t what they used to be, I tell ya. You know, when I was just a boy, I had to walk to school every day? Uphill! In the snow!”

“Both ways!” Adeline joined in before they both dissolved into laughter.

So now, here she was, in front of Fabien’s shop, feet tapping on the ground in a sort of nervous excitement. Gingerly, she opened the door.

“Hello?” she called. The response came from somewhere in the back of the shop.

“Ah, Addie! What a surprise! What sort of thing-that-I-totally-don’t-know-about brings you here today?”

She rolled her eyes as she began to make her way through the shelves and around the cobbling stations to the back of the building. “You know, it’s a funny story actually, but my best friend- well, former best friend, I should say-” she was cut off by a sharp laugh as she turned the next corner and came face to face with Fabien, holding a beautiful red box.

“‘Former best friend?!’ Is that any way to treat someone who’s gotten you such a spectacular present?” he asked, schooling his face into an over exaggerated pout.

“It is if they’re going to be stupidabout it,” she replied, yanking the present from his hands with ease. Fabien made a wounded sound, and Adeline stuck her tongue out in response before opening the lid of the box.

Inside was the most beautiful pair of tap shoes Adeline had ever seen. The leather they were made of was white as freshly fallen snow, and the perfect balance between flexible and sturdy. She turned them over in her hand and gasped, brushing her finger over the engravings on the metal taps.

“Roses,” Fabien smiled softly, “because I know they’re your favorite.”

Overwhelmed, Adeline could only set the shoes aside for a moment and tackle Fabien in a hug. And for that one shining moment, everything was perfect.

“Oh, I simply must have these!” a haughty voice sang out behind Adeline, who jumped at the sudden noise. Standing there was none other than Lord Vitus himself, bedecked in his finest golden cape, and holding- oh no, absolutely not. Before she could even register her own movements, she yanked her shoes back.

“No, you simply mustn’t have these, actually,” she quipped in that same snooty tone, stuffing the shoes back in the box, before suddenly realizing what exactly she had done. Refusing the Lord? Taking things right out of his hands? Mocking him to his face? How could she possibly get out of this?

Clearly, there was only one answer.

She bolted.

She heard Vitus’ petulant cry of “After her!” ring out from behind, and then the heavy sound of soldiers’ footsteps, but she dared not look back. Instead, she ran harder, her mind racing almost as fast as her feet. There had to be someplace to hide. She turned a corner, onto a smaller side street. She couldn’t go home, it was too far away.She burst out onto another street before turning abruptly, one hand wrapping around a streetlamp to keep her momentum as she flew back where she’d just come from, the soldiers falling over themselves in their confused haste. But there were so many soldiers, and there was no way she could outrun them forever.

She ducked into a dark alley for a moment, throwing herself behind a couple of barrels just as the men appeared at the mouth of the alley. She held her breath as they hurried past her, trying not to catch their attention with her heaving gasps. And this is why I’m a dancer, not a runner, she thought, half delirious on a cocktail of exhaustion and adrenaline. Could it have been minutes? Hours? All the streets had blended together long ago, and her muscles ached with exertion. Unintentionally, she closed her eyes, just for a moment.

A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and Adeline’s blood turned to ice in her veins as her eyes shot open again. Her despairing cry was cut short as another hand covered her mouth. She shook her head wildly, terror taking over, before she caught the gaze of her captor.

Fabien.

Adeline felt her entire body sink back in relief with his appearance. Slowly and ever-so-softly, Fabien removed his hand from her mouth, making a shushing motion before Adeline could even open her mouth to ask what was going on. He carefully undid the buttons of his cloak, taking if off of himself and wrapping it around Adeline. It dangled loosely from her small frame, making her look even smaller. A disguise, she noted distantly, hiding in plain sight. Once he’d secured it around her shoulders, Fabien began to explain.

“Everyone’s pretty proud of you, you know, standing up to Vitus like that. I know you’ve always been a bit of a wildcard, but that was even better than expected. You should have seen his face when you ran, oh my-”

Adeline made a small noise of distress. She hadn’t been making a statement, she’d been making a mistake! It was all a big misunderstanding, and now she was going to be killed, or worse, and she hadn’t even had the chance to wear her beautiful birthday shoes, and-

Fabien shook her gently, murmuring comforts, and she took in a shuddering breath, focusing back on him.

“You’ve been brave enough today. Let me take a turn, okay?” he said softly, gesturing at the shoebox. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed it from her still shaking hands. In seconds, he had pried open the lid, taken the shoes out, and tucked them into the inside pockets of the cloak Adeline now wore, continuing to talk as he did so.

“The village has been giving Vitus the run-around all day, trying to keep him off your trail, and honestly, I’m not sure he’s noticed. That man is so far up his own ass that I genuinely think he can’t even comprehend the thought of people working against him.” Fabien smiled a bit as Adeline giggled weakly. “Just keep a low profile. We won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

For a moment, Adeline was so overcome with emotion that felt like her legs might give out underneath her. Instead, she threw herself forward and hugged him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could.

“Thank you, so much. For everything.”

Fabien squeezed her in return.

“Nothing to thank me for, Addie.”

It was at this moment the sound of soldiers came rushing back, hurling them both back into reality. In a flash, Fabien pulled the cloak’s hood up, casting Adeline’s face in shadow. He gave her a little push towards the other end of the alley, nodding reassuringly. Adeline took a deep breath, steeling herself, before walking, confidently as she could, back out onto the crowded street.

There were soldiers everywhere, knocking on doors, stopping bystanders and asking them about Adeline’s whereabouts. A customer just coming out of the bakery- Monsieur LeClair, she noted- was having one such conversation… if one could call “a man taking obnoxiously large bites out of a muffin and then speaking with his mouth full, spraying bits of food directly into the soldiers’ faces” a conversation. As the soldiers hurriedly excused themselves, disgustedly wiping the muffin bits from their faces, Monsieur LeClair caught Adeline’s eye and winked. She smiled and bowed her head in return before scurrying off again. As she made her way to the town square, she passed at least a dozen or so variations on this conversation- townsfolk left and right making excuses, even outright lying to the soldiers, distracting them long enough for Adeline to slip away, towards the town square.

Vitus was exactly where she thought he would be- right in the middle of the town square, complaining loudly to anyone who would listen (and all those who wouldn’t). She leaned against the brick wall of the closest building, trying to make herself look as small and unassuming as possible. She bit her lip as she thought through possible escape scenarios, keeping Vitus in her peripheral vision, right up until-

“We found the shoemaker, Your Lordship, but no sign of the girl or the shoes.”

Adeline felt her heart stop as her head turned on autopilot. A crowd had gathered in the square, following three figures that Adeline loathed to recognize as Fabien and Lord Vitus’ men. One soldier shoved Fabien down roughly, while another threw the shoebox down with such force that it popped open, revealing its empty inside.

Vitus rolled his eyes at Fabien, looking bored out of his mind. “Where are they?” he sighed.

“Where are what, My Lord?” Fabien asked through gritted teeth.

At this, Vitus seemed to revert to an overgrown toddler.

“My shoes! They were so very pretty and I wanted them, but that little wretch stole them from me and ran off and I want them baaaack!”

Fabien, still on his knees, snorted.

Vitus blinked, clearly surprised. Suddenly, another laugh joined in, and another, and another, and in seconds the entire crowd was laughing at this grown man’s tantrum. Even Adeline found herself giggling, albeit shakily.

It was as though Vitus had only just now realized what kind of a predicament he was in. No one was going to give up the shoes, or the girl, and to make matters worse, they weren’t going to take him seriously either. He glanced nervously around the crowd for a moment before his lip curled and his nose scrunched up, as though he had just smelled something particularly unpleasant. Standing to his full height, he raised his voice.

“You have one week to hand over the shoes! If you do not, there will be, shall we say… severe consequences.” He turned around dramatically, which reignited the snickering, and quickly made his way back to his carriage processional.

As the carriages rattled away, Adeline was struck by an idea. It was a bad idea, she knew, and probably too risky, but she had already defied the odds once today, and with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she felt unstoppable. She nimbly climbed to the roof of the nearest building to pay her respects, so to speak, waving in the direction of Vitus’ window. She ripped off her hood dramatically, snorting when Vitus’ face contorted in rage. And as her heart sang with love for her town and her people, her feet were helpless to dance along for all the world to see. From her perch on the roof, she watched the other townsfolk join her in celebration, dancing in their own little ways. Madame Beaumont lifted her son Jean into the air, spinning him around as he giggled. Michel Rousseau was doing a little shoulder shimmy. Even Old Lady Coralie was dancing a little two-step. Adeline beamed at them all before turning toward Fabien. Several people were still gathered around him, making sure he wasn’t too hurt, and Adeline almost climbed right back down to join them. But, as though he could sense her worry, Fabien looked up suddenly at met her eyes. He smiled at her before winking conspiratorially. Relief flooded through her as she winked back- a sign that everything was going to be okay, and one she believed wholeheartedly.

Just before she climbed back down to go home, she chanced a glance back at Vitus’ carriage. For a second Vitus met her eye, his glare an ice cold promise of revenge. Adeline shivered under the threat, before gathering herself just enough to make a rude gesture back at him. The distressed shriek that followed was music to her ears.

That pompous man-child had it coming anyway, Adeline thought, and resolved to put the matter out of her mind. Of course, Reader, it wasn’t so simple as that, but let it not be said that she didn’t try her best to hide her misgivings from everyone, even herself.

After what was probably too many hugs goodbye, even for her, Adeline finally made her way back home with her new shoes. The moment she closed her door, she slumped against it and slid down to the floor, exhausted and terrified. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she recalled the look in Vitus’ eyes as he took his leave. She was no fighter! She had no money, no strength, no prospects- no hope. How could she possibly try to stand up to the army Vitus would surely bring back with him? And she couldn’t- wouldn’t- put her people in danger like this, not after they’d already done so much for her. That’s it, she thought, rubbing her eyes, she would go right back to the village and work something out with everyone else, something to keep everyone safe and out of harm’s way before Vitus could return.

But as she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell upon the shoe box, lying on the floor beside her. The shoes themselves had tumbled out from her little outburst, and they almost seemed to be calling to her, begging her to at least try them on, to dance in them. And after so much trouble, how could she possibly refuse?

The shoes were a perfect fit- of course they were, they were literally made for her, she thought as she snickered a little under her breath. Watching herself carefully in the mirror, she raised her right foot ever so slightly before kicking it forward in a test shuffle. She smiled. The sound of metal against the waxed wood floor was perfection. Unable to help herself, she hummed a little tune, matching each note with another step- a cramp roll here, a paradiddle there, a set of triple time steps- she was in her element as she lost herself to the dance.

Dancing in the shoes filled her with such joy that she really could almost forget about the whole thing with Vitus. Adeline knew he wouldn’t take this lying down, and with his power and resources- she knew she had to be prepared. First thing in the morning, I promise I’ll figure out a plan, she reasoned. It’s not as though he could even attack tonight anyway.

So she danced and danced and danced, until the day finally caught up with her, and she quite abruptly fell asleep, not even bothering to take off her new shoes.

That night, Adeline had the strangest dream. She- no, the whole town, was dancing to song unlike any she’d heard before. It almost… hurt, in a way, to listen to, and yet she was sure it was the most beautiful melody she had ever heard. It felt as though it had wormed its way into her soul, her very existence, and intertwined itself so deeply that it might never leave. For a moment, Adeline felt fear, the likes of which she’d never known. She tried to wake herself up, to scream for to someone to help her, to do something, anything to stop this, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop-

And then Calm washed over her completely, every other thought and sensation lost to the ocean of the strange melody as it lulled her back to sleep.

When she opened her eyes the next morning, it was to find that the song had followed her into the waking world. She knew something was wrong, but as she tried to figure it out, every thought was just out of reach. She stumbled out of her room, towards the front door, but her limbs felt almost disconnected from her, almost as if they were being of their own. She slammed face-first into the door, and, for a split second, the ringing of her ears overpowered the music enough to. I need… help, right, that was it, I need help because of…

Because of……

The music, the music, the music- it consumed her every thought. Every step and every breath taken in time with that exquisite, unending song. Every note whispered sweet nothings in her ear, asking, pleading, begging her to join them and become beautiful too, until she was helpless to resist any longer. Until finally, she began to dance.

And dance, dear Reader, she did.

She found herself completely at the mercy of the music as it maneuvered her around like a marionette. She was only vaguely aware that she had somehow made it to the town square, and that several of her concerned neighbors were trying to talk to her, but nothing could break through the haze of the music.

As the day went on and on, passersby occasionally stopped to try to rouse her from her state, all to no avail. It seemed there was no way to reach her, and as night fell, they stopped trying. The light of the moons illuminated her as she danced, and were it not for the sound of the metal in her shoes they might have assumed her some dark spirit. Perhaps some still did. But the fact remains that all the townsfolk, save one, eventually found their way to sleep, secure in their ignorance of the events to come.

The next morning, as the suns rose over the horizon, the people of Strasbourg woke to the sight of not one, but two figures dancing in the square. By breakfast, it had been made a dozen. By lunch, it was nearly half the town. And by 8:46 pm, on the dot, all 398 residents of Strasbourg had found themselves unwilling victims of the dance.

Reader, there are many things I wish I could tell you.

I wish I could tell you that the dancing stopped just as strangely and suddenly as it began, and it became a scary story told for many generations. Or else, I wish I could tell you that the townsfolk found a way to weaponize their dancing and rose up against Lord Vitus, and discovered the cause of their dance- a machine of Vitus’ cruel creation, designed to transmit an almost imperceptible signal into the minds of those who heard it and drive them to madness. Picture it now, Reader: Vitus, stroking a gloved hand down the side of the machine as its whistles blew and the steam that rose from the spouts shrieked, the sound of his dastardly laughter barely audible over the chaos, until it was suddenly cut short by the doors to the hall as they opened with a BANG, and Vitus would finally come face to face with the consequences of his actions.

But more than all that, I wish I could tell you Adeline never remembered what happened as she danced. That for the seven days and seven nights that she danced in the town square, without food, without water, without rest, she was never aware of the fact that everyone she had ever known lay dead or dying at her feet.

None of these things are true, of course. The dance continued, the machine was not destroyed, and as the days passed Adeline slowly became more and more conscious. She watched, helpless, as all around her, her friends, her family, fell to the ground to dance no more. She yelled, screamed, pleaded to anyone who would listen, to anyone who could help- and the only response she got was the answering cries of her village, getting smaller and smaller.

By the sixth day of the village’s dance, there was only one other person still dancing beside her. It was Fabien, because of course it was Fabien- she didn’t know if this was supposed to be a blessing or a curse, though she was leaning heavily towards the latter. His steps had been slowing and his wheezing had increased exponentially in the past few hours, and Adeline knew what was coming, even if she couldn’t bear to say it aloud. Fabien, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

“I did warn you,” he rasped, after a coughing fit had nearly sent Adeline into a heart attack of her own, “That I wouldn’t make it to your birthday. My heart is just so-”

“God, shut up, please, for once in your life just shut up!” She screamed, her voice breaking. Her outburst seemed to shock him, and she turned away before she could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath before barreling on.

“Fabien, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry, I should have-” he made a sharp noise and she cut herself off, choking back a sob.

“Don’t you dare think, for even a moment, that this is your fault,” he whispered, sounding more serious than she had ever heard him. “We all made our own decisions, you and me and everyone else. This is not on you, even a little bit. It was my choice, and I would choose it in a million lifetimes, okay? I just-” Fabien dropped to his knees, gasping, legs shaking almost imperceptibly, and Adeline felt her heart shatter.

“Addie, I’m so sorry,” his every word sounding like it had been ripped from his throat, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

And with that, he, too, was gone, and Adeline’s last remaining hope had died with him.

Oh Reader, what could she do but cry? So she cried. She cried for Fabien, for Monsieur LeClair, for Madame Beaumont, for Michel Rousseau, for Old Lady Coralie, for every lost soul of Strasbourg, until only one remained- and only then did she cry for herself, dancing alone once more.

The tears still streamed down her face when Lord Vitus returned with only a small squadron the next day, a full week after Adeline’s dance had begun. Towering over them from atop his horse, Vitus called out to his men.

“Oh ho, what have we here? An entire village, destroyed by some sort of plague, it seems. What a tragic end… But look! It seems one still suffers. Let us put the poor thing out of its misery, shall we?”

The largest of their number stepped forward, an axe readied in his hands. An executioner, Adeline realized tiredly. He made his way towards her, gingerly maneuvering around the corpses littering the town square, and Adeline wished she still had the strength to huff out a laugh. To show respect for the dead, on the path to kill another? How utterly ridiculous! Without a sound, the executioner raised his axe above his head, and Adeline closed her eyes, prepared to meet her end.

“Wait!” Vitus’ whining cut through the air. “Bring her to me first! She has something of mine that I want back.”

The executioner shrugged, before lunging towards the unsuspecting Adeline and hefting her over his shoulder with a grunt. She struggled against him, as much as one can struggle with a body that refuses to stop dancing, but it made no difference- he was simply too strong. Within moments, she was set down before Lord Vitus.

“The shoes,” he demanded. “Hand them over.”

“Are you kidding me? All of this for some shoes?” Adeline whispered hoarsely. “Hundreds of people, an entire town, dead, because you couldn’t stand the thought of someone else wearing these stupid fucking shoes?”

Vitus sneered at her. “On the contrary- I’m killing you because of the ‘stupid fucking shoes,’ as you’ve so crassly called them. Everyone else was… shall we say, collateral damage.”

Adeline’s breath caught in her throat. Her village, her friends, her family- they weren’t even some kind of fucked-up punishment for her, to drive her mad with grief and guilt. They were just “collateral damage,” not even worth an afterthought in the mind of their murderer. Her rage boiled inside of her, and had Adeline been able, she would have killed the man herself just then.

“Oh no, look!” Vitus sounded so genuinely miserable that for a moment Adeline was taken aback. “You’ve gone and ruined them!”

She glanced down as Vitus gestured towards her shoes and saw it was indeed true. The once-pristine white was long gone; now the leather was completely stained through by her own blood.

Reader, do you know what she did then? Why, she did the only thing she could.

She laughed, Reader. She laughed for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, all her frustration and sorrow and fear and anger and fatigue welling up from within her as she faced this utterly ridiculous man. She laughed. And as Vitus’ disappointment turned to shock, then to an angry pout, she laughed even harder. Even the dance, for a moment, seemed to laugh with her, each shuffle taking on the tone of ha-ha, ha-ha.

Finally, Vitus had had enough. He struck her, clean across the face, and for a moment, the laughter ceased as she gasped in pain.

“You know, I think they look better this way,” she drawled after catching her breath. “The red really brings out my eyes.”

Lord Vitus, clearly having expected Adeline to fall to her knees and grovel for forgiveness (fat chance, she thought, even if I hadn’t been cursed), puffed up like a particularly unpleasant frog as he spluttered through some sort of retort. Even his stupid moustache seemed to puff up with him, Adeline noticed in tired amusement, as he finally settled on, “W-W-Well, I never!”

He turned away from her sharply and caught the eye of the executioner. Adeline’s stomach dropped as Vitus’ face returned to that arrogant smile. He looked back at her, malice gleaming in his eyes, and addressed her once more.

“I do soapologize, it seems that I have forgotten myself for a moment. I am, however, fully prepared to make it up to you. You see, I do, in fact, possess the antidote to your little ‘Dancing Plague,’ as it were, and I would be delighted to offer you the cure.”

Adeline couldn’t see it, but as she felt movement at her back, she knew what was about to happen. In one final act of defiance, she spat at Vitus, who squealed as he tried, and failed, to avoid it. He huffed once more as she laughed at him, before screeching his final command.

“A PERMANENT CURE!”

And with that, Adeline felt pain explode in her legs, near blinding in its intensity. For a moment, a scream overpowered the music, and it took a moment longer to realize the scream was her own. She blinked though unnoticed tears to look up -when had she fallen- at Vitus, but she couldn’t quite focus on him -or anything else. She felt so -tired sick- dizzy, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and –die- rest. But the pain in her legs screamed for her attention, and as she dragged herself up, she realized why.

At its simplest, a cure is just a way to remove a problem. It doesn’t need to be as advanced as a vaccine, or as complicated as the witches’ remedies of old. In fact, Lord Vitus’ antidote was both exceedingly simple and remarkably effective.

The permanent cure for the Dancing Plague? Simply remove the problem.

Namely, the legs.

How strange, she thought, in that last moment of lucidity, as she stared at the legs- her legs- lying on the ground a few feet away. I almost expected them to keep dancing.

And with that, she fell, lifeless, to the ground.

But Reader- she did not die.

#look im still working on uploading this to ao3 but for now we're stuck like this #ill reconfigure this later once ive got that up. or maybe ill just make a new post. whichever is easier.#mechtober #the mechanisms #i cant believe im maintagging this but you know what im proud of it #my writing #also no im not late what are you talking about

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taeyohonic · 4 years

Text

stolen dances | chap. II

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 1000

links: prologue, chap. I, chap. II, chap. III, chap. IV, chap. V

note: lower case letters intended

“and what did you do?”, your therapist asks with an edge in his voice. you’ve known yoongi long enough to recognize his strained tone even through the phone.

“i said thank you and agreed to go on his honeymoon with him and his wife”

“______”

“of course, i didn’t. i’m not an idiot”, you huff.

“not anymore”, yoongi corrects you now that his heart stopped beating this fast.

“i told him they are both mad for even thinking this was a good idea”, you nod to yourself as you open your door. “and then i demanded a premium treatment at this adorable spa.”

“the one in gangnam? with the tiny clouds on their label?”, he asks while you throw away your high heels and slip on the fluffy slippers your best friend gifted you as a housewarming present.

“exactly! you remember!”, you exclaim and walk mindlessly into your kitchen; the half-eaten takeout from yesterday is calling your name.

“you know i’m required to document our sessions… even when you talk about a facial for thirteen minutes”, yoongi teases and you open the fridge to smile at your cold pizza. yes!

“so, if i asked my cosmetician about a certain min yoongi, she would have never heard from you?”, you question and bite into the cheesy gold. damn, that’s good, even better than yesterday.

yoongi doesn’t answer, but you can just picture his scrunched nose. “don’t think i haven’t noticed how soft your skin has gotten in recent weeks, yoongs.”

“it’s called fan service, _____.”

you would roll your eyes if you hadn’t seen how excited his fans get when the rapper takes his time for a few selcas.

“nevertheless, i just wanted to call and share this milestone”, you say, sitting down on your couch.

“and i am proud of you, ______. i am – don’t get me wrong. but right now, you’re really crashing my date”, your therapist huffs and you flinch. damn, you are the worst client slash friend ever.

“sorry yoongs”, you apologize, remorse coloring your words. you hear the quiet chuckle at the other end of the line. “no need to feel sorry, ______. there are always two people involved in a conversation.”

then you both hang up and he goes back to his third glass of wine with a beautiful young doctor in a fancy restaurant while you devour the rest of your pizza, an old kdrama runs in the background to keep you company.

“how important is this?”, jungkook asks and pushes the macaron away from him. you roll your eyes at your best friend, clearly irritated by his lack of motivation.

“sorry if i’m keeping you from bringing world peace to the nation”, you snip back and steal the abandoned macaron.

“oh, i like that one”, you say, still chewing on the sweet pastry. jungkook is sitting in front of you, dressed in a coal colored three-piece suit with a vibrant green tie. you don’t know why you’re both in his office on a saturday, but you stopped questioning his schedule years ago.

jungkook’s eyes open comically wide as you swallow down the treat. you hum in approval.

“wait, _____. let me try as well”, he pleads and tries to lean forward across the wooden conference desk. but you are both so far away, he isn’t even close to getting in your personal space. you do learn from your mistakes.

“nah ah, kookie”, you mock him and scribble some notes on your ipad. the champagne raspberry one is a strong contender. “you’ve had your chance.”

the man in front of you huffs. “i thought we’d do the whole ‘it’s important’ ‘why’ ‘because i said so’ ‘why’ ‘because’ skit with the food being pushed back and forth.”

you try not to laugh at his imitation of your voice. “well, glad to know that you do think from time to time.”

your best friend shakes his head and grabs the pink cardboard filled with the last macarons. there are still three left – lemon strawberry, double chocolate and green tea. you’ve spent an extra twenty minutes on the treadmill this morning just to taste the rich chocolate flavor on your tongue. and judging by the mischief in jungkook’s eyes he knows these are your favorites.

before you can run around the table to stop this… man child, he has already picked up the three pastries and stuffed them in his mouth. his smile is tinted with chocolate as he looks at your shocked expression.

“yo-u… you are… so immature”, you hiss and grab your ipad tighter. “you know how much i love the chocolate one.”

jungkook’s cheeks are filled with stolen food; they remind you more of a hamster than a multimillionaire. your best friend is visibly pleased with himself as he moans at the taste.

you are shooting daggers at him while he continues to eat, not a care in the world. with angered mutters you start to write down some nonsense on your device. you don’t want to watch his gleeful expression. after a beat of silence jungkook start to talk, half the macarons still in his mouth.

“i … know you like them”, he says and swallows, “that’s why we’ll get the chocolate and the green tea.”

your stare moves up to his eyes, which are smiling down at your dumb folded expression. “i wasn’t saying this isn’t important, _____”, he explains. “i just think it’s moot to taste test stuff, when we already know what we like.”

“but i don’t like green tea”, you say – not ready to admit that maybe tasting twelve different kinds of macarons was more of a fun activity than a mandatory one. jungkook shakes his head at your deflection.

“i know, ____. believe me. i’ve never seen someone look that disgusted at matcha ice cream”, he chuckles, “but it’s her favorite.”

sometimes you are really spoiled from his attention. of course, his fiancée likes green tea, it’s healthy and vibrant, not as heavy and oily as cacao.

“we don’t have to get the chocolate ones, you know? we could stay in the range of tea. i saw this jasmine one, but i didn’t bring it with me… let me quickly…”, you are rambling as you hear jungkook call your name with intent.

“____”, he says and traces his lips with his fingers to collect the chocolate smudge. “if she gets her favorite, i want mine there as well.”

______

i know... it’s been more than a year, but a kind hearted soul on ao3 reminded me, that this exists and i really like jungkook and yoongi here, so i thought, i’d pick up a pen and write again for this story. it will be drabble style, but i hope you enjoy it as much as i do! please leave a comment, feedback, like or a reblog if you liked it! if anyone wants to get tagged, just comment 😊 all the love, dana

#ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook angst #ceo!jungkook #idol!jungkook #rich!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fluff

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hufflepuffhermione · 3 years

Note

from the drabble list 23 “I immediately regret this decision.” if you feel like it!!

This got LONG. I know that’s what happens with everything I ever write, but this got long even for me. But I hope you enjoy it. It’s set in the summer between S3 and S4.

The Oval Office is a dangerous place. Life or death decisions are made in the room every day, and a briefly floated idea can quickly become policy before all of the words are even out. One the President has an idea set in his head, it’s difficult to talk him out of it.

Unfortunately for everyone, Toby and Josh fail to recognize the present dangers.

It’s a staff meeting outlining upcoming campaign events and the changes to the policy calendar; nothing out of the ordinary or particularly monumental, but when there’s something to do with national parks, there is always an element of risk.

“Will someone tell me why I’m going to Montana in a few weeks? If I know my electoral math, and I think I do, they’ve got all of three votes and they usually go to the other guy,” President Bartlet says, looking up from behind his reading glasses.

There’s a look exchanged between the senior staff, but Josh swallows and answers. “Sir, it’s the… the opening of Big Sky National Park.”

The President pauses. “That’s not a national park. I would know, I’ve been to all of them.”

Again, more glances. Josh clears his throat awkwardly and continues. “Yes sir, but this is the one that you signed an order to establish a few years ago. In Montana. They’re finally opening it to the public, and you’re going to be there at the opening with the Secretary of the Interior.”

“Ah, right, I did do that,” Bartlet says, smiling. “You know, I do love national parks.”

“We’re aware, sir,” Toby says dryly.

President Bartlet puts down the schedule he’s been looking at and meets Toby’s iron gaze. “Well Toby, tell me? What’s the best national park you’ve been to?”

Toby mutters something under his breath, and when he’s asked to repeat it, his voice takes on an edge. “I’ve never been to one,” he admits.

Mistake number one.

“You’re telling me you’re about to write a speech for me about the glories of the national park system, and you’ve never even been to one?” the President asks incredulously.

“Well, I was going to make Sam do it,” Toby admits.

“What, is this below your pay grade?”

Toby would be rolling his eyes if he weren’t in the Oval Office. “No, sir, but I figured California boy here has been outside a few more times in his life than I have.”

“Is this true, Sam?”

Sam shrugs. “I guess. My parents weren’t really outdoorsy types, but we went to the Grand Canyon once. So I guess I’m ahead of Toby on that score.”

“And the rest of you? Have you all had the opportunity to experience the wonder that is American national parks?”

Josh and CJ glance at each other warily. Leo volunteers the information of a few he’s had a chance to visit, but when the President’s gaze rests on CJ, she stammers, “I made plans to go to Yosemite when I was in grad school, but I… I don’t think I made it there.”

Before the President can comment on CJ’s admission, Josh chimes in. “Frankly, sir, there aren’t any national parks easily accessible from where I’ve lived, so…”

This is mistake number two.

“Nonsense,” the President exclaims. “Shenandoah is just an hour and a half from here! You’ve lived in DC how long and you still haven’t…” He breaks off, and a dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Josh, do you remember when I suggested we take a staff field trip to Shenandoah?”

“I didn’t think you were serious, sir,” Josh replies, gulping.

“I wasn’t then, but if Toby and Sam are going to be writing a speech for me about the wonders of national parks, on the anniversary of the day which, by the way, the National Park Service was established, you really ought to have some experience visiting national parks,” the President says. “Do you all have anything going on this weekend? Doesn’t matter, I can raise it to the level of an executive order and everyone you have to cancel on will just have to deal with it. We’re going on a field trip.”

The door opens behind them, and it’s Donna standing there. “I’m sorry sir, am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Josh answers with relief.

“I just needed Josh for…”

“Donnatella,” the President interrupts, smiling at her. “How would you like to go on a national park expedition?”

Donna looks at him, wide-eyed. “Well, sir, I do appreciate a good national park. I’m not sure I can say no… can I say no?”

And there’s the third mistake.

“Well, Donna, pack your outdoor things, because you’re going camping this weekend,” the President says gleefully. “I’ll get my guys to arrange all of this.”

“Do you need Josh? He’s needed in a meeting with legislative affairs right now,” Donna says. “They only have twenty minutes before the vote.”

Josh immediately stands up as the President waves him off. “You shouldn’t have come in,” he hisses to Donna, as they walk down the hallway towards his office. “You should have just called. You might have avoided getting roped into this nonsense.

“Well, I immediately regret this decision, but… is he serious?”

“He’s started making plans and everything,” Josh says. “But hey, if I’m forced to go camping, at least you’ll be forced to go too.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “You’re a horrible, horrible man.”

“Yeah, but I sign your paychecks.”

“I had plans!” she whines.

Josh laughs as he turns towards his office to pick up a file. “Haven’t you learned never to make weekend plans? And never to indulge the President when he’s in one of these moods?”

“Believe me, I’m regretting all of this.”

—

“As it turns out,” the President says on a Friday morning staff meeting, “I can’t go to Shenandoah. That would require the Secret Service to shut down the whole park, and even then, there’s nothing they can do about the bears.”

An audible sigh of relief falls across the staff, but it doesn’t last long when he continues, “I’ve arranged transportation and reserved a couple of cabins for you all. You’re leaving at 6am sharp tomorrow morning, and they’ll have you back by Sunday night.”

“Sir… is this… serious?” Sam hazards.

“Serious as the deficit,” the President replies with a grin. “You’re going to experience a real national park.”

“And if we just… happened to be sick tomorrow?” Josh asks.

President Bartlet shakes his head and laughs. “I wouldn’t believe you, since you’ve never taken a sick day you weren’t forced to take. I’d send my guys over to your apartment and have them throw you in the van. Face it, Josh, you’re going to see the great outdoors.”

Toby rests his head in his hands. “Please someone just kill me now.”

“Come on, Toby, you’ll love it!”

“Sir, I’m pretty sure I have to brief this weekend, so I think…” CJ begins to argue.

“You have highly competent deputies, let them handle it,” the President deflects. “6am sharp. Be here, or the Secret Service will be making visits to your places. And they do know where you live.”

—

After a two-hour drive which everyone spent asleep, they are unceremoniously deposited at a campsite with a fire pit and two cabins which might generously be described as ‘rustic’. The August heat that has settled over DC is only marginally lessened by elevation.

“Well this is… something,” Sam remarks, taking a peek inside one of the spartan cabins, which contains nothing but wooden bunks and an ancient-looking table.

“There aren’t any bathrooms,” Toby comments with barely restrained fury. “What are we supposed to do, go in the woods?”

Donna shrugs, wondering, once again, how she got roped into this. “That’s how we usually do it when I went camping as a kid. Sometimes they had a bathroom at the site, but it doesn’t look like they do at this one.”

“You’ve been camping?” Josh asks incredulously.

“Yeah. We’d go camping in the Wisconsin Dells most years, and once in a while we’d go to Minnesota or the UP,” Donna replies offhandedly.

“The UP?” Toby asks.

“Upper Peninsula of Michigan,” Sam corrects, always glad to make a geographic contribution.

Josh picks up a large plastic tub that was left with them, filled with camping food, and begins to walk toward one of the cabins. “Well, at least Donna knows what we’re doing.”

“Didn’t you claim to be an outdoorsman?” CJ asks, quirking an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you prove it.”

He drops the tub and rubs his eye. “I mean… I was on some drugs then, so I’m not sure I can be held liable…”

“You were not on any drugs, Josh, or else I wouldn’t have let you have alcohol,” Donna corrects.

“I was on the drug that was being outside after three months of miserable confinement!”

Donna and CJ share a glance. “Well, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate your outdoorsy prowess. You can lead our hike.”

“Hey, no one said anything about hiking!” Josh completely ignores the tub and stalks over to where CJ and Donna are standing with the rest of the supplies, almost tripping over a branch as he does so.

“It’s in the President’s executive order. He set us an agenda,” Donna declares, waving around a piece of paper that does, in fact, include the presidential seal.

“There’s no way he used an actual executive…”

Josh is cut off by Sam, who snatches the paper out of Donna’s hands with a “Let me see that!” He reads the paper quickly, frowning as he does. “Yeah, he wants us to take three different hikes. There are maps attached to it. Also, he’s set some time aside for Toby and I to… extol the virtues of nature and apply it to our speechwriting?”

“And we wonder why nothing gets done in this country!” Toby throws his hands in the air. “I can extol the virtues of nature perfectly well without having to actually…you know… go out in nature!”

Josh takes a look at the schedule over Sam’s shoulder. “He’s really given us specific times to start each hike?”

“Including one at 5:30 in the morning so we can catch the sunrise over the mountains,” Donna notes.

“Well I’d like to catch a few hours of sleep for once.” CJ rolls her eyes and picks up her duffel bag. “Think we can blow this off?”

Sam presses his lips together. “Um… he’s going to know if we do.”

“Why?”

“Because he left the Secret Service agents here to ‘keep an eye on us’,” Sam says, jerking his head toward the van which they came in, which is parked in a clearing in the woods. “Ostensibly it’s so we don’t die when Josh forgets he’s not actually an outdoorsman, but he’s definitely spying on us.”

Josh rubs his forehead and sighs heavily. “You couldn’t have just lied and said you have a great appreciation for national parks, Toby?”

“If I said I’d been to one, he would have interrogated me about it!” Toby shouts. “I was cornered!”

“You were the one who came up with the idea to establish this new national park,” CJ says, nudging Josh’s side, “so I hold you responsible.”

“God help me for winning a political battle and doing some good for the country at the same time,” Josh replies, rolling his eyes. “That was almost three years ago! Why should I have known it would backfire like this?”

Donna sighs heavily and picks up her bag. “I’m seriously regretting coming out here with any of you.”

“If you had just called the Oval instead of coming in…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “CJ, what do you say to the cabin on the right? I looked inside and I think there are fewer bugs in that one.”

“Please,” CJ says. “I’m grateful I have at least one other member of the Sisterhood here.”

Sam and Josh give each other a look. “I guess we’d better move into the bug-infested cabin,” Sam remarks.

“They’re both bug-infested, but the one on the right is just… less bug-infested,” Donna shouts back, as she heads into the small cabin.

“Well, Mr. Outdoorsman,” Sam says to Josh, “what now?”

Josh rubs the bridge of his nose. “If I wasn’t on drugs, I was under the influence of alcohol—which I hadn’t had in three months—so you know, I can’t be held liable for what I said then.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he picks up his duffel bag. “You do have a law degree, don’t you?”

“Don’t remind me.”

—

It’s another hour before all of the stuff in moved into cabins and everyone is seated on logs around the unlit fire pit, unsure of what to do next. It’s Donna, naturally, who has a handle on the schedule.

“Now, the President has recommended we do a short hike before the heat of the day really kicks in, and that one takes off from that trailhead over there.” She points toward a small clearing in the woods with a ragged wood sign marking the head. “It leads to a lake, so he suggests taking a dip to cool off before heading back, so maybe put something to swim in here in your daypack.”

Josh furrows his brow. “Wait, wait, wait. We’re not really doing this, are we? Following this ridiculous schedule, doing all these…”

“Just because you can’t follow a schedule doesn’t mean we shouldn’t,” Donna replies. “And do you really want to defy the President of the United States?”

“Well, if he’s making us go hiking… and swimming,” Toby growls. “I told him, I have a healthy appreciation for the outdoors, but I prefer to be far, far away from them.”

Donna stands up. “Well I, for one, am not going to defy the President, and I think when he asks you very specific details about the hikes, you might want to have some answers for him. Come on, the sooner we get started the less heat we’ll have to deal with.”

“Because this isn’t bad enough?” CJ asks, wiping her brow. The humidity is already oppressive even at nine in the morning.

“Come on California girl,” Toby teases, “aren’t you used to this?”

In unison, Sam and CJ respond with, “It’s a dry heat!”

Josh pulls several files out of his backpack, carries them back to the cabin, and sighs. “It’s going to be a long day.”

—

Donna isn’t sure who does the most complaining in the mile and a half hike. Josh probably complains the most audibly, but there’s something to be said for Toby’s constant glares at everything that constitutes nature and Sam’s intentional, hefty sighs at every single step. CJ is quiet about her discontent, but she doesn’t seem particularly happy either.

Perhaps they really did need an opportunity to learn how to appreciate nature.

The hike isn’t all too steep, although you wouldn’t know that from the way Josh and Toby are panting when they finally reach the swimming hole the President indicated in his instructions.

“Here it is,” Donna says with a smile. The water is set up against a cliff edge, and there are thin streams falling over the edge. It’s really an idyllic place, but none of the staffers seem particularly enthralled.

Still, they’re all hot and sweaty, and so Sam pulls off his shirt and wades into the water, and CJ follows. Toby grumbles, but the prospect of cooling off is too great for him to resist.

Donna is about to take a dip when she notices Josh’s hesitation to go in. He sits at the edge, dipping his toes in, but not looking as if he will go any further.

“Don’t want to swim?”

He shrugs. “Someone has to watch our stuff. You know, because of the bears. Or the tourists. They’re probably Republican tourists, in this part of Virginia.”

She looks at him critically. “Josh… Do you know how to swim?”

“I grew up in Connecticut, of course I know how to swim!” he snaps. “I just don’t want to!” There’s sweat beading on his forehead. There’s no way he doesn’t want to swim.

Donna frowns and takes a seat next to him, dipping her toes in as well. “Why not?”

Josh looks straight ahead at his own soaking feet. “I don’t have another shirt in my pack,” he says quietly.

“Well then, take it…” she begins, and then she sees something in his eyes. He’s still self-conscious about his bare chest. She grabs his hand and smiles at him. “It’s fine. I’ve seen it before.”

Josh shakes his head. “They haven’t.”

“They’re not going to care,” Donna assures him. “They were all there. They don’t need an explanation.” She briefly wonders if he ever had to explain it to Amy.

“Yeah,” he says, his face still grim.

She tugs on his sleeve gently. “Anyway, you’re going to be neck-deep in there anyway, so if you dive in fast, no one will even see anything.”

“I guess,” Josh says.

“I’m not going to go in if you don’t, and I really want to go in, so I’ll be rather upset with you if you don’t go in,” Donna threatens.

He lifts an eyebrow. “So this is on me now?”

“It’s your call,” she challenges.

In one smooth motion, he tears off his shirt and pulls Donna up into his arms, holding her against his chest and taking a few steps into the water. She shrieks as he drops her in a deeper part of the swimming hole. “That good enough for you?” he asks with a grin.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” she chides, although there’s a smile on her face too. “You’re a cruel man.”

He splashes her with quite a bit of force. “You asked for it. I’m just trying to be an outdoorsman.”

Sam practically has to be dragged out of the water, but as the sun nears its high point, everyone agrees that they sooner they get back to the camp, the better. They manage to make it back faster, thanks to the downhill slope and Toby’s urgency to get back to something even slightly resembling civilization.

“What’s on the schedule now?” CJ asks through a bite of the pre-packed sandwiches that the President sent with them. A good thing, too, since none of them are fantastic cooks even in normal circumstances, and certainly none of them know how to cook over a fire.

Donna pulls the piece of paper out of her daypack and skims it. “Well, there’s a couple choices until our second hike at 6. Either working on the speech, or as he puts it, taking a Thoreau-like approach to extolling the virtues of nature…”

“He’s really going to put me through all of this and then tell me to emulate Thoreau?” Toby interrupts indignantly. “That pretentious mother—“

Josh raises an eyebrow and cuts Toby off with a, “So how about those of us who are under any circumstances not allowed to touch the President’s speeches?”

“We ask for your input when we need it, Josh, it’s just… you’re not the most eloquent of writers,” Sam tries to say diplomatically. Toby, still fuming, nods in agreement.

Josh rolls his eyes. “I like to be direct. Sue me.”

“See, that kind of attitude in speechwriting is what gets the President sued,” Toby shoots back.

Donna clears her throat, giving a barely concealed glare to the staffers before her. “Anyway, Josh, in answer to your question, he suggested you could take a nap.”

His brow furrowed, Josh lets out a little snort. “A nap? What is this, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes I think so.” This from CJ, who hasn’t managed to get her head out of her hands in several minutes.

“I remember a time when you were extolling the virtues of naps to me,” Donna says sweetly, folding up the schedule and putting it back in her bag.

Josh sighs and leans back into the log he’s sitting against dramatically. “Can everyone please stop using the things I said while I was on many, many drugs that made me kind of loopy against me?”

“Never, mi amor,” CJ says, standing up and patting his shoulder. “I’m going to take advantage of the once chance I’ll ever get in this administration to take a nap. Any interest in joining me, Tobias?” she asks with a smirk.

Toby raises an eyebrow. “No, because I have to emulate a pretentious dick who thought he knew everything about nature because he was living in the backyard of his in-laws.”

“I quite enjoy Thoreau, actually,” Sam begins to interrupt.

“Of course you do,” Toby says with a sigh, pulling out a legal pad and a pen. “Come on, let’s get to writing this. Anybody know anything about national parks?”

“No,” Josh says. “I think that’s why we’re here.”

—

The afternoon passes rather pleasantly to everyone’s surprise. CJ takes her nap, Josh reads through all of the briefing memos he managed to smuggle in, and Toby and Sam bicker over the speech, but there are several pages filled by the time Donna comes out of the cabin, fresh from her own nap, and calls out that it’s almost time for their next hike.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Josh says. “One isn’t enough?”

“There are three, remember. The next one is very early tomorrow morning so we can catch the sunrise. This one is so we can catch the sunset,” Donna replies, thrusting the schedule at him.

Josh shakes his head as he looks it over. “I’m kind of regretting getting this man elected.”

Still, everyone, even Toby manages to traipse through the woods and up get another mountain to get to a west-facing lookout, where the sun is just starting to dip behind the mountains.

“Is this inspiring you?” CJ teases, stretched out on one of the benches at the lookout. The sky really is turning very pretty, the sunset a fiery orange with hints of pink.

Toby shrugs. “I don’t think the colors of a sunset are relevant to this speech, but sure.”

“I have to say, I think the Midwest does sunsets better. All that open sky…” Donna says. She’s seating on the other bench, and Josh is next to her, his arm stretched around the back of the bench and his fingers just barely grazing the top of her shoulder. The distance between them is acceptable, but only just.

“Do you miss it? Wisconsin?”

Donna bites her lip. “Sometimes? Sometimes I’ll think about a walk I used to take, or about the ice cream shop I would always go to with my friends, or about the view from my dorm when I lived on the top floor, and I feel a little bit of homesickness. But then I think about how amazing it is to live here, and how much I’ve accomplished since I left, and well… I can’t say I regret leaving.”

Josh chuckles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Donna turns back to look at the sunset and hopes that no one notices that her eyes are beginning to water with what could be tears.

—

“Okay, dinner now? I”m starving.” Sam says, when they come back from their sunset expedition to the camp. Darkness is beginning to settle, so they’ve set up a few lanterns, but it still feels incomplete.

“We have hot dogs for roasting,” Donna says. “You know, good camp food.”

“That means we need a fire,” Sam says, exchanging a glance with Josh. “We can do that.”

CJ and Donna share a look of concern. “Last time you tried to start a fire, you almost set the White House ablaze,” CJ says cautiously.

“But we successfully started a fire,” Josh points out. “And if it wasn’t indoors in a fireplace with the flue welded shut, we would have been successful.”

Donna has to give them this. “Okay. Go find some firewood and get it started. I think we’re all starting to get hungry.”

Josh grabs a lantern and gives Donna a grin. “Let’s go, Sam.”

While Donna unpacks the food they were sent for dinner, Josh and Sam come back with arms full of wood, Sam looking the worse for wear with several scratches all over his body and what looks like it could be blood.

“Sam! What happened?” CJ exclaims, looking him over.

“I got into a fight with a blackberry bush,” Sam mutters. So not blood, at least, CJ thinks with a sigh of relief.

Josh drops his armful of wood by the pit. “The bush won.”

“Do you need any bandages or anything? They sent us an extensive first aid kid, because I’m sure they know how clumsy you are.” CJ takes Sam’s armful of wood and kneels down next to Josh. “Show me, how do we do this?”

While Sam washes himself off with a water bottle and pulls out the last few thorns, Josh manages to get a fairly impressive fire going. Donna passes around hot dogs and everyone begins to roast theirs, although Sam drops at least two in the fire. Josh intentionally sets his on fire, charring it until anyone else would regard it as inedible.

Perhaps, they all begin to think as they laugh around the fire, for once able to focus on something besides work, this camping thing isn’t so bad. The stress of the election has been weighing heavily on all of them, but they’ve spent almost a whole day without pondering electoral math or congressional seats.

The fire slowly dies, and once it’s down to only the embers, everyone slowly begins to peel off and say good night.

CJ blinks and lets her eyes adjust to the dark before picking up her lantern and padding softly out of the cabin. She would blame her inability to sleep on the nap she took earlier in the day throwing off her schedule, but she knows that’s not the entirety of it.

To her surprise, the fire is still going when she emerges, and there’s someone still seated on a log by it.

“Josh?” she whispers softly, and he turns to face her with the barest trace of a smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

“No. You?”

He shrugs and pokes at the fire with a stick. “Didn’t want to,” he says. “Toby snores.”

“And so you’re just going to spend the whole night out here?”

“Probably.”

“Just because Toby snores?”

Josh doesn’t answer, but CJ turns to look at him and can see the set of his jaw and the tension in his face. And she has an idea of what might be going on.

“Josh, have you been having nightmares lately?” she asks, her voice soft.

She didn’t think his body could show any more tension, but he immediately tenses up even more at her question. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I have, too,” she admits. She can see some of the tension fall away from his shoulders, although he still seems guarded.

“About what?”

CJ bites her lip. “Simon, mostly. Which is ridiculous, I mean, I wasn’t there. And that was three months ago, and I wasn’t even there.”

He reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezing it. “You can easily imagine it though, because you know what it’s like to be shot at,” he concludes.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t. I don’t even remember it, really, and I still have nightmares,” he tells her. “It’s not ridiculous, CJ. Believe me.”

She sighs. “I just… they went away for a while. I thought I was doing better, I thought I was over my grief, and then this last week… well, let’s just say my nap this afternoon as the only time this week I woke up from something other than a nightmare.”

“Well, it was two years to the day a few days ago when we got shot at,” Josh says. “Because I haven’t slept much this week either.”

CJ takes a look at him, his tired eyes and the vulnerability present on his face that so few get to see. She feels privileged to see it. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” she admits, “but I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

“It’ll get better again,” Josh says. “You’ll notice that you’ve gone weeks, even months, without something. The grief never quite goes away, but the fear does.”

“Okay,” she replies, her voice choked up a little. If it were anyone else saying this to her, she’d probably be annoyed, but she knows that Josh speaks from experience and is telling the truth. “So you and I, it’s going to be a sleepless night for the two of us?”

He smiles at her and leans further back against the log. “Claudia Jean, are you propositioning me?”

“Only if you want it,” she teases.

—

Donna doesn’t end up needing the alarm she set on her watch because her internal clock is set to absurdly early mornings anyway. It’s mostly still dark when she gets up, but as she emerges from the cabin, she can see that there’s still a fire going, and that CJ and Josh are in front of it, seating against a log. CJ’s head is resting on Josh’s shoulder. If Donna didn’t know the completely platonic nature of their relationship, she would have been jealous, and even though she knows Josh and CJ see each other as siblings, she still has to bite back a bit of jealousy as she approaches them.

“Hey,” she says, “you two slept out here?”

Josh blinks and looks up at her. “I guess we did sleep,” he says. “I didn’t think we’d manage.”

CJ smiles. “Who knew your shoulder made such a nice pillow?”

He tries to push himself up from the ground and winces. “Well, this log did not,” he says. “Is it really time to get started already?”

“Our sunrise hike awaits,” Donna says, with a look on her face that’s somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Who’s going to have to wake up Toby and Sam?”

“I say we wake up Sam, and then make him wake up Toby,” Josh says. “I didn’t bring my full-body armor with me.”

—

As it turns out, the sunrise hike is an eight-mile loop, with east-facing lookout about two miles into the trek. Toby, already furious about being woken up, is absolutely fuming at the fact that there are six more miles to go after the sunrise stop. “What kind of a man makes you go on a hike at five in the morning, and then extends It so you’re going to be on this trail all day?”

“I’m finding I don’t hate hiking as much as I thought I did,” Josh says. “But I’m sleep-deprived, so don’t hold that against me.”

“Josh, if you used sleep deprivation as an excuse every time, we’d never be able to call you out for anything you’ve ever said,” CJ points out.

Sam sighs. He’s looking much better now that he’s not covered in blackberry juice, but his arm and leg and the side of his face are still very scratched up. “I just want to take a shower.”

“Ten more hours until they’ll take us home,” Donna says. She doesn’t even have to look at the schedule anymore; her memory is freakishly good sometimes.

They reach a clearing near the top of one of the mountains that has some large rocks and a few benches. They’re above most of the other elevations around them, so they have a clear view of the sun beginning to peek out over the hills before them.

“We never see sunrises or sunsets,” Donna notes. “I think it’s usually dark when I get to the White House and dark when I leave.”

CJ lets out a laugh and perches on a rock. “That’s when we actually manage to leave.”

Donna reaches into her backpack and hands out granola bars. “Breakfast, anyone?”

“Any coffee?” Josh asks.

“There’s a pot to boil water back at camp and a thing of instant coffee,” Donna says.

He groans. “So none here?”

“You should really try to become a less caffeinated life form.”

“Tried that for three months. Worst three months of my life.”

“Just because of the coffee?”

Josh grabs a granola bar from her and takes a seat on one of the benches. “Because of the gunshot wound, but you know, the lack of coffee didn’t help.”

“Will you just shut up and enjoy the sunrise?” CJ asks. “Because I’m not going to see one for another four years.”

Josh clears his throat after a bite of the granola bar. “You really believe that? We’ve got another four years left in us?”

“The President’s in fighting mode. He won’t back down,” CJ says. “And we’re not going to let him, are we?”

Sam smiles. “Absolutely not.”

Through a bite of his granola bar, Toby mumbles, “Careful about tempting fate.”

“We’re not tempting fate,” CJ says, “but we’re renewing our fight. We’ve been so bogged down in reelection struggles that it feels like we’ve lost sight of what we’re fighting for. But you know what Richie wants to do for places like this?”

“Tear them down,” Toby mutters.

“But Jed Bartlet wants to build them up. Build more of them. Let people come to appreciate the outdoors, to see the sunrise, to protect the natural treasures of this country. If we never get to see the sunrise, we should make sure it’s because we’re working long and hard to ensure that other people have that chance here, and at places like this.” Her voice is beginning to get excited. “And that’s only one of the many reasons we’re fighting to show the voters our vision of America. The one that protects the treasures we have, and seeks to provide the best for our citizens. That’s why we’re fighting from before sunrise to after sunset. So what do we say? Four more years?”

Josh grins and holds up the remaining half of his granola bar in a sort of toast. “Four more years!” he shouts out over the mountains.

There’s a chorus of exclamations that no one but them will ever hear, but as the sun rises, there’s a bit of weariness lifted off of each of them. The last four years have been interminably long and difficult, but they are all instilled with a sense of new energy for what they do.

“So that’s what you’re like on sleep deprivation?” Josh teases CJ, as they leave the clearing and set out on the next part of their hike.

“See why that excuse will never work?”

“Fine, but I still stand by the fact that I said a lot of things on heavy drugs that I didn’t mean.”

“Such as being an outdoorsman?” Donna pipes up.

“See, after this weekend, I think I stand by that one.”

——

The Secret Service takes them all back to the White House, rather than to their apartments, and they’re all directed to the Oval Office, where President Bartlet sits behind the desk expectantly.

“You all made it back in one piece!” he says with delight. “I was sure a bear was going to eat one of you; my money was on Toby.” He takes in Sam’s scratched up face. “Except for you, Sam. What happened there?”

“I fought a blackberry bush, and the bush won,” Sam mumbles.

“You did all the hikes?” the President asks.

Toby grimaces. “Donna forced us to.”

“I knew she’d keep you on track,” he says, and Donna beams in response. “And the speech?”

“Needs revision and typing up, but it’s quite good, if I do say so myself,” Sam says, although Toby shoots him a glare, clearly not as pleased with the quality of writing.

“Excellent, excellent. And you two,” the President says, looking at Josh and CJ, “how did you find it?”

CJ smiles. “Quite enlightening, sir. I’m instilled with a new sense of energy. That said, I’d like to go home and get some sleep.” Josh nods in agreement.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the President says. “But senior staff tomorrow, I’m going to have to hear more. God, I can’t wait to open this new national park.”

They all file out of the Oval Office, but Josh hangs back behind the others and grabs Donna’s arm. “Do you have a ride home?”

“I was going to take the metro,” Donna says. “My car’s on the fritz again.”

He shakes his head. “No, don’t. Not will all that stuff. I’ll give you a ride.”

Donna’s about to protest, especially since he definitely seems too tired to be driving, but she considers it and nods in agreement. At least she can make sure he doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel.

“I’m glad you were there,” he says. “I don’t know if I would have made it through this weekend without you.”

She blushes at the compliment. “I’m sure you would have been fine. After all, you proved that you are, in fact, an outdoorsman.”

“Still,” he says, with a surprising amount of sincerity, “the outdoors is so much more fun with you there.”

#donnaamoss #asks #the west wing #josh lyman #donna moss #josh x donna #sort of?#it’s mostly senior staff + donna friendship fic #but it’s 6k words of it lol #this is maybe a weird direction to go with this prompt but i just wanted to write the senior staff camping okay #i really did this instead of working on my final projects go figure

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sourbat · 3 years

Text

A Missed Call

Because you can never have enough magtok, here’s an old one shot I wrote some time back for the holidays, but never got to releasing.

Summary: After a rough morning and bad rehearsal, Toki retreats and listens to an old, missed call saved on his dethphone.

Pair: Toki and Magnus

Rating: T

Read on Ao3 or click read more below!

Following a long night of painting a recently completed figurine, Toki woke up late on the morning of a planned recording session, one he had practiced for beforehand. Toki checked the time, panicked and hurriedly put on some clothes, skipped the shower, and rushed to the upper levels and kitchen to grab some fruit as a quick and easy breakfast. On his way to rehearsal, he got woozy and had to double back retrieve his insulin. When Toki finally arrived, everyone was already in a foul mood. Knubbler mentioned losing two saved recordings, and apparently Murderface raised a fit about it. No one entertained his tardiness, and Toki could tell that patience was wearing thin, but still insisted he get some recordings in to show his dedication to the band.

Since he left his guitar behind in his room, Skwisgaar tentatively offered one of his own, lips pursed and brows sinking while Toki readjusted the harness, tightened a string. It seemed every small action he performed while scrambling to the tinier recording room earned the ire of his lead guitarist, and when they settled, Toki sensed the increasing weight of the atmosphere, the building gravity and high expectations that few could reach.

He couldn’t concentrate. Not with Skwisgaar frowning at him, eyes stained with contempt, arms crossed tightly to his chest and fingers rapidly tapping the correct rhythm across his rigid form.

Knubbler gave Toki permission to go, but his eyes couldn’t break from the imaginary strings rapidly coursing through Skwisgaar’s busy hands. He knew Skwisgaar was comparing their speed and overall performance. Toki saw the frown extend downwards, finding his attempt inadequate. Toki flubbed the first recording, and just four measures into his part. He messed up on the second and third try. He made it as far as the first rest, then messed up again.

Sixteen measures and another set of wrong notes later, Skwisgaar finally had had enough, and the passive remarks began. Toki couldn’t play over Skwisgaar loudly pointing out every wrong note he tried teaching. With the room filled with a never-ending tirade of “noes,” Knubbler had no choice but to stop recording. The moment he announced the news, Skwisgaar grabbed the guitar by the neck and loudly insisted through Toki’s headset that he would play the parts instead.

The news proved fatal to his esteem. Aghast, Toki pleaded with Skwisgaar to let him try one more time. He grabbed the older man by his top, but then sank and fell on his knees. Skwisgaar wouldn’t have it, nor would Knubbler who, after bringing a hand to cover the red light flaring in his optical devices, suggested an emergency fifteen-minute break.

Tensions were high as Skwisgaar exited the small room, hand clasping the guitar and swinging with a vigor that warned Pickles and Nathan to back off and keep their mouths shut. Murderface left the couch to grab some snacks, and when he returned, saw Toki inching his way to the nearest door.

“You alright, Toki?” he asked through loud chews and smacks.

Toki didn’t answer. His head sank, leaving just a nub of a neck and messy chestnut veil before he reached for the door.

Knubbler turned in his seat. “Tough luck, babe. Come back in fifteen, alright?”

“Or don’ts, nots like we’lls notice,” Skwisgaar said under his breath, earning a sharp jolt from Toki’s shoulder before he stomped out of the room.

Nathan sighed. “Skwisgaar.”

“Dood, no need ta’ be a–”

The door shut, and at the sound of the lock clicking, Toki pressed his back into the adjoining wall. Cool stone tempered his rigid, hot spine. It pushed the heat forward, through his chest, then spilled down his cheeks in a furious heat. Toki slid to the floor, legs retracting and arms coiled round to bring them up to his chest. He sighed and tried shutting his eyes, only to have to watch himself repeat the same mistake again, observe his clumsy fingers resting on top the wrong string, wrong fret, sloppily strumming and ending up with a nasty fuzz that only further infuriated Skwisgaar. A heaviness collected across his beet-reddened face before going limp. He buried his face between his shaking legs. He spent the next few moments in silence, head spinning and throat shut, refusing the smallest intake of air until Skwisgaar’s harsh words turned into blurry static.

The pain that swelled in his chest raged forth, climbing up his strained neck, reaching behind his eyes and sending a throb that warned Toki of an impending sob. He sucked a sharp breath, filling his chest and stomach until his belly hurt, then shuttered an uneven exhale. The anxiety whirled in his abdomen, a miniature storm that threatened to burst into a panicked state if he didn’t act quick.

Toki blinked, feeling the wet sting forming in his eyes. He released his shaking, numbing legs, letting one drop while keeping the other close for support. Head still lost in the dark fog, Toki reached for his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He wiped his face, dragged an arm across his nose and sniffed hard, sucking up the collecting moisture into his ailing throat, and went through his dethphone’s multiple applications.

His thumb lingered over a message dating back nearly eight months. Toki sniveled over it, tongue lapping around his lips as he glanced at the time, the length of the message. Wide eyes darted to the ends of the hallway. When he determined there were no oncoming gears, he pressed play on the screen.

The phone’s display went dark for a second, then vibrated with a rapture of noises. Toki’s bottom lips curled inward, teeth pressing on top the skin as he watched the screen come alive with shadows, the blur of a swaying phone failing to focus on a single image, and the colorful, out-of-focus city lights in the backdrop.

Then, humming. Toki instantly calmed when he heard the slow, off-tune notes, followed by the screen moving, raised up to reveal Magnus' curious face lazily staring into the screen. “…why aren’t you answering your phone?”

The voice fuzzed as Magnus brought the screen closer, angle crooked as he leaned to one side, body lax and swaying with each step.

“Just as well. Shit.” Toki broke into a chuckle as Magnus stumbled forward. The camera toggled, pointed upwards at the sky. The first time it had happened, Toki yelped, panicked over Magnus potentially falling and breaking his neck. Now, he counted the seconds of Magnus’ extended groan, then smiled at the incoming giggle that sluggishly transitioned into a prolonged, nonsensical song. “Dadadaaaa…”

Feeling a bit more at ease, Toki’ s second leg began to sink, and both hands fixed to the screen as he toggled the phone to its side. When he checked again, Magnus was back to a (crooked) stand, happy and quite pleased with himself not falling flat on his face. A car zoomed by in the background. The lights at the intersection turned green, and Magnus brought his tongue out to wet his drying lips.

“Leave it to the one time I figure how to use this dumb app, just my luck.” Magnus rolled his head back, messy hair whisking, flowing out of tandem with his uneven gait. He shut his eyes. “I know I said…I’m sorry I’m drunk, buddy. God, I miss you right now.”

Toki wiped his eyes, giving a short nod. “S’okay,” he whispered, letting a thumb come close to petting the drunk Magnus who’d broken his promise not to drink too much, at least now without Toki to look after him.

Magnus stared back. Not at the light, nor the screen, but at Toki. “Hope you’re, uhh, having fun right now. Whatever you’re doing.”

Toki shook his head.

Magnus’ expression softened. “You know, I miss you,” he slurred to the phone’s receiver. “A lot. Like, holy shit, dude. You gotta come back soon. Hit me up, even if it’s just to yell at me for breaking my promise.”

Toki sniffled as Magnus pulled away from the camera. His hand turned inward, almost as though he were trying to cradle the screen, reach and cup the face of the Toki who had failed to pick up the call several months ago. Even then, it had been hard to stay angry at him. Disappointed, sure, but Toki couldn’t stay mad at the man who went out of his way to learn how to use his Facebones-time app, call and speak from the heart.

Thinking of it, Toki glued himself to the screen, silently awaiting the next portion.

“I really miss you,” Magnus continued. He leaned against the wall of some unknown building, his sinking head still favoring a particular side. “I know you’re on tour and all, and I gotta be fucking patient but…this is going to sound so cheesy, but I miss seeing your smile.”

Just hearing the words lifted the ends of Toki’s mouth. On screen, Magnus’ expression softened, eyes blurred with sudden realization.

“I miss you telling me to stop scowling all the time, and I miss you telling me it’s ok…”

“If ams not readies to smiles yet,” Toki whispered to the screen.

“–if I don’t feel ready to smile yet.” Magnus made a face that, to this day, made Toki feel just a little anxious. What was going on in his head, he wondered. Did Magnus know what he was about to say?

He watched Magnus palm his hand over his bad eye. “Fuuuuck, what am I saying?”

“Everytinks you wants, Magnus,” Toki answered the recording. His heart picked up, anticipating the final portion of Magnus’ drunken rambling, the denouement of his accidental message, and that final push Toki needed to help him get through this miserable day.

The screen emitted hardly any sounds, producing only the subtle changes brought on by the late autumn winds, the occasional roll of a speeding car, and Magnus’ own relaxed breathing.

“You’ve probably already deleted this,” Magnus murmured to himself. Or to Toki? Hard to say. The smile he cracked was aimed at no one in particular, but each time he lifted his head, and Toki saw his long waves brush across face and reveal the longing in his eyes, he thought Magnus must have known, deep down, what he was going to say. “I’m drunk and I’m swearing and I miss you, and I love you, and the more I think about you being away for two more weeks–”

Just like that. The three words Toki had tried prying from Magnus for weeks, months, had slipped through the cracks and were uttered during a random night spent drinking alone.

“–It kills me. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Toki stroked the screen. “Ams fine, Magnus.”

“Well, that’s all. I just wanted to tell you I love you. And miss you. And as soon as you get back I want you to tell me how you got on stage and rocked the hell out of everyone’s soul. The same way you do mine whenever you… hehehehehe…ah, shit .”

Caught between their shared laughter was Magnus stumbling forward, and like every past play through, Toki quieted down, paused the video once he remembered what Magnus had said, and rewound it just to hear it again. He obsessed over the second “I love you,” all casual and free. The “I love you” that was comfortably tucked between other facets, and said with no restraints, no second-guessing. It was a feeling he admitted to without any forethought, and spoken from the heart.

“Call me back, ok?”

Magnus’ hand covered the screen. It took him a while to accurately bring an end to the call, but while he muttered to himself, questioned and asked no one in particular how to shut off the app, Toki meandered in place, wiggling as he relived the words, Magnus voice setting free that momentous confession thought the form of a simple, missed call. It would be another two months before he whispered the words, so soft and faint, and yet somehow carrying the weight of the universe on top of it. That sober confession would be as impactful, and while Toki spent nights replaying how shy Magnus had been when he first shyly announced his love to him, nothing quite compared to the drunk Magnus who casually remarked his affections.

“Will calls you soons,” Toki said to the phone, then closed the app. He would, and he’d do everything within his power to reverse the tragic alignments set before him, and turn this shitty day into something decent and worth discussing. Skwisgaar could yell at him, but Toki would still try his best. He’d play his heart out like Magnus expected him to, and would have something to show for it once it was over.

Toki checked the time, and saw he had about five minutes left until his break ended, and another two hours before Magnus had to wake up to get ready for work. His nerves still shook from the memory of his recent failure. Toki sighed. Eyes closed, he saw Magnus standing alone, city lights a messy blur, veiled under a heavy and tiresome drunken haze. If that man could figure out how to use his phone and video call him, cheer him on and tell him how much he cared about him, then Toki could finish a session and get his part in the demo.

He reentered the room a seconds later, warmed face hit with the thick atmosphere.

Pickles and Nathan stopped their discussion to check on him as he slowly approached. Nathan regarded Toki with a gentle nod. “You ok, Toki?”

“Ams fine, thanks for askins.” Toki waved shyly at the two. Thankfully, Skwisgaar was nowhere to be found. While it didn’t guarantee a permanent reprieve from the stress to come, it did allot Toki some additional time to prepare for the rest of his session. Remembering Magnus’ encouraging words, his drunken, cherry-red smile and airy laugh that always reached so high before cracking, Toki exhaled. He pushed out as much of his anxieties as he could, the panic that settled across his queasy belly, and he walked over to Skwisgaar’s guitar.

Pickles raised a brow, popped the gum he’d been chewing as Toki adjusted the strap, and then proceeded to the recording room.

“Hey, Toki.” Nathan interjected, still reclined comfortably in his seat, and not appearing slightly offended when Toki met his obtrusive glare with oblivious perplexity. “Where are you going?”

“To practice,” Toki answered. Charged by his response, Toki confidently turned for the smaller room. “Goinks to show Skwisgaar ams not a screws-up,” he said, voice carrying a surge of an impending storm, raw energy that filled his expanding chest with the assurance he needed to get him through the session.

As he opened the door, Magnus' voice entered his mind:

Rock the hell out of everyone’s soul.

#toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #fanfic #magtok #hammertooth #drinking #sad times #but wholesome feels #skwisgaar is ams dick in this one #sorry

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Fault”

Hello, everyone! We’re not even bothering with an introduction today, let’s just get straight to the only thing that matters.

HERE HE IS, THE MVP OF THIS EPISODE, OF THE WHOLE VOLUME, THE SERIES, THE ONLY ONE I CARE ABOUT RIGHT NOW

I’m joking… but only a little. In all seriousness we will get to Ren, but you all want to hear a funny story first? I somehow got it into my head that there was no RWBY episode this week—the holiday and all—so I poured all my meta time and energy into a ridiculous Ironwood analysis as a placeholder, only to wake up this morning and find the strongest (and most complicated!) episode this year waiting for a recap. Like some sort of grimm nosing into my inbox.

Okay, so it’s not a funny story, but if RT would just do a better job with their website my life would be a whole lot easier.

So here we are, taking a look at the episode “Fault.” Quick question, is every episode this volume going to have a one-word title? It’s not a criticism, I’ve got nothing against a punchy name, I’m just curious since RWBY has never done that before. If anything, they’ve gone more for symbolically significant phrases like “A Brawl in the Family,” “Players and Pieces,” and “The Lady in the Shoe.” I wonder what sparked the change.

Anyway, we open on Robyn laughing about some story she’s told, something about Joanna losing a fair fight for the first time, presumably to her. This is what we’ve learned about Robyn since this volume started: she refuses to acknowledge that she had a hand in Clover’s death; she was asked by Blake and Yang to keep the Amity secret but, according to May, couldn’t keep her mouth shut about it; and she tries to cheer Qrow up by bragging about her own skill.

Alrighty then.

Obviously, this little story fails to land. “Tough crowd tonight.” Robyn looks to Jacques as well as Qrow when she says this and since she clearly doesn’t care about cheering him up, she must want to get a rise out of him. Create something, as she says at the end of the scene, that’s exciting. Robyn just really loves to start fights. Against Ironwood, Clover, bickering matches with Jacques—stories told about winning them! If she’s not fighting someone she’s not interested.

Qrow does eventually give the smallest smile though and Robyn cheers. “Did I win?” They both quickly grow serious again though and Robyn says she’s “sorry for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.” Her apology would mean more if she was apologizing for her actions, not providing a generic ‘Sorry for your loss’ like she had no hand in this.

Qrow then insists it was his fault… but, of course, not for the reasons why he’s actually responsible (also, didn’t we do this two weeks ago?). For starters, Qrow blames his semblance for everything that went down, despite the fact that his semblance is not responsible for him breaking Clover’s aura, or Tyrian stabbing him. The most we’ve seen his semblance do is cause minor mischief, which in and of itself is absurd considering we’re meant to believe that it has kept him from his family most of his life, and informs choices like whether he’ll travel with the group in Volume 4. Still, it’s not unexpected that he would blame his semblance and think that having friends is a “childish dream”—depression is one hell of a liar—but rather, it’s frustrating that no one is helping Qrow see the truth of the situation, both the good and the bad. He certainly doesn’t need Robyn providing generic platitudes that absolve them both of their choices.

You know what the worst part is? The two kind, level-headed adults with enough distance to help Qrow acknowledge his mistakes while also correcting him about his misconceptions… are Ozpin and Clover. The former is still ignored by the cast, the latter barely got to be a character before he was killed.

Qrow goes on to say that he “made a deal with the darkness and [Clover] paid the price.” I’m sorry, what does that mean?? Outside of referencing his team-up with Tyrian, that’s the most dramatic, nonsensical thing he could have said. Qrow doesn’t admit to the team-up though, rather he starts blaming Clover for his own death.

Precisely like a good chunk of the fandom has done 🙃

He says that Clover just “wouldn’t let up” (translation: he wouldn’t agree to let me go when I was under arrest) and that they could have “worked together against Tyrian if Clover had just—”

There’s a lot to cover this episode, so I’m not going to dive into another explanation of all the justified reasons why Clover didn’t trust Qrow in that moment and why Qrow was the one who “wouldn’t let up.” If you’re interested in that rundown, head here.

Side note: can RWBY please stop with the weird mouth closeups? I’m begging the animators. Especially when so much else in this episode is gorgeous.

Yes:

No:

Robyn’s response is to make it all about her. I say, as a hypocrite, because my instinctual response in comforting someone is to also bring up a way that I might, sort of, know what they’re going through. It’s something to work on and, as always, I’d be more receptive to Robyn’s attempts if she weren’t failing so spectacularly in every other aspect of her characterization. Case in point: she says that having a truth semblance tends to make people push her away, but we’ve never once seen that. We’re introduced to Robyn as she’s adored by Fiona. The people celebrate her. Yang and Blake trust her immediately, for no reason, and comment on how useful her semblance is—they’re not concerned with it. Ironwood likewise works with her and allows her to use her semblance on him in public, at least for a time. May spoke fondly of Robyn last episode. She just finished a story about Joanna… where is this pushing away you speak of, Robyn? I really wish RWBY would consider things ahead of time and actually show them to us, rather than just having characters announce that they’re (supposedly) there.

Nice symbolism though with Robyn touching the electric bars and pulling her hand back. You reach out, you get hurt, curl in on yourself, blah, blah, blah. Too bad it’s not a moment attached to an actual struggle of hers.

Qrow buys it though, saying he’s never thought about it that way before.

You know, I get why a lot of people in the fandom hate Clover. I can’t even claim I’m much interested in him as an individual. I’m sick of straight, white, able-bodied men getting the spotlight, which is one of the things that drew me to RWBY in the first place… so theoretically Robyn should be the better choice for Qrow’s BFF, right? Especially in a world where FairGame only existed in RT’s social media queerbaiting. Give us the badass gender-bent Robin Hood instead of the boring military man!

On paper it sounds great… which is why it’s astounding that RT bungled that so badly.

Qrow never finishes his thought about Clover because the Ace Ops come in to return Watts to his cell. Interesting. The writing has definitely made Ironwood stupid, but perhaps not as stupid as he could have been? If he got Watts to hack Penny (we don’t yet know what’s going on with her during all this) and then promptly shut him away again, that’s just about the best way you can follow up on your worst decision.

Harriet spots Clover’s pin and tells Qrow “You don’t get to keep that,” but then doesn’t take it from him. See, that right there is a better motivation for potentially opening the cell. Qrow says he didn’t kill Clover, Harriet shoots back that his blood was on Qrow’s blade (again, focusing on the wrong way that he’s guilty), Robyn challenges her to get the truth via her semblance… and Harriet considers it? Why? She’s not the one struggling with her loyalty here, that’s Marrow, yet he’s the one who has to pull Harriet back with “What are you doing?” when she looks at the keypad. Have Marrow almost be swayed by Robyn’s taunting, or have Harriet almost open the door because she’s furious and desperate to get Clover’s pin back. Either one of those would make more sense than this.

Also, no one checked Qrow during his arrest/before he was thrown into his cell?

Also, note that Marrow uses a nickname here—“Hare”—so I’m continually unpersuaded by the ‘They’re not friends’ claim. Yes, Harriet hits his shoulder on her way out… and Ren will later scream at Jaune about cheating. Harriet being in a bad mood because their leader was just murdered isn’t evidence that they’re not close, no more than Ren responding to Everything Traumatic Ever is evidence that he doesn’t care for his friends.

Also (x3), Robyn calls Harriet “mohawk”?? Can’t this woman come up with a single good insult?

As the Ace Ops leave Robyn lays back down on her bunk, exactly as she was before, and says, “Well, that was almost exciting.” Kind of like this scene! Luckily, the episode is about to get a whole lot better.

The music immediately picks up as we segue to Ren, Jaune, and Yang chasing after Oscar. On the whole I really enjoyed this scene, largely because it shows the group doing their best—in a way that feels persuasive. I’ll admit that others have a point about them just standing around while the Hound changes form—yet still failing because, you know, our villain is actually powerful! However, there are, as always, some nitpicks.

One of the first bits of dialogue we get is Ren noticing that the bikes can’t stand being in the cold for very long. It bugs me that bikes suffer more from the cold than the civilians do. To say nothing of the fact that it once again doesn’t amount to anything. Their bikes carry them through the whole battle and Jaune looses his because of a grimm. Then Yang manages to fix the totaled bike with a single part, despite the continued cold. Why bother introducing this as a problem when it’s meaningless each and every time?

The three do demonstrate some great teamwork though. When Yang yells that she wishes one of them could fly, Jaune uses his shield to launch Ren at the Hound… so that he can get dragged through the air, hitting rocks. This poor guy. I like that though because no, these teens shouldn’t be perfect, strategic masterminds and yes, they’re in the kind of situation where they just have to try something and see if it works. Jaune can’t think ahead to what Ren will do once he grabs the Hound, they just have to get him to that point and go from there. Which they do. Ren snags a boulder to slow them down further (that’s smart) and Yang goes higher to fire at the Hound’s face (don’t hit Oscar he doesn’t have aura!!). They’re at a crazy disadvantage here and still trying their best to get our boy back.

The overall tone is… fine? Again, love supportive Yang—that high five with Jaune was wholesome—but it continually feels weird to get that when Oscar is in the literal jaws of death here. On the whole though the scene keeps to the action and seriousness of the situation, which I appreciate. We’ll talk more about tone during the outpost scene.

It's looking like they might be making some sort of headway when the Hound lets out a roar that, as Yang puts it, calls for backup. 1. Yay giving this grimm even more power to mess with the cast, 2. Holy shit there are so many grimm around. See, scenes like this is why I’m side-eyeing the anti-army rhetoric in the show (a stance I’d otherwise agree with 100%). Because do you see how many there are? That’s not Salem’s army, that’s just the normal grimm hanging out around Atlas. The cast is screwed if anyone were to, say, order them to attack the kingdom…

Kudos to RT for bringing back the centipede grimm though. I honestly thought they’d just be a one-off action sequence in Volume 7.

While everything is falling apart Ren catches a glimpse of Oscar, complete with rosy cheeks to make him look super young, and the sight fills him with

He starts climbing towards the Hound and we cut away.

Meanwhile, Jaune’s bike is hit with some of the centinel’s acid (again, not the cold causing problems) and he takes a tumble, managing to keep his feet before Yang snags him. Moments like that really do show how far he’s come and I’m glad we got to see such a moment in an episode where his cheating was brought up. Jaune then uses his shield to fly over one of the dragon-y grim, but... wait. The shield is flexible?

Literally what is the point of that? As a shield, I mean (it clearly works fine as a ramp). If you can just tip it over like that then so can the grimm or another fighter. Forget how tiny the shield is, all a monster would have to do is boop it and it would fall over. In fact, it probably should have with the grimm scratching at it before. Seems rather useless, unless you’ve got writers crafting convenient situations. Also, does Jaune have multiples of this thing? He picked it up before, but there’s no way he found that one again. Idk, I’m really not feeling this addition to Jaune’s arsenal. Better to give him a range option so he’s more versatile.

Still, they fly over the grimm and the two let out a sigh in synch. Whatever else we might have to say about this volume, RT is definitely giving us different interactions and team-ups. Well done there. Why, Jaune and Yang have managed to survive all that together!

Oh wait, never mind. They’ve gone off a cliff.

Honestly, I’m shocked they actually went over. I thought Yang would stop in time, or we’d have a classic moment of them tumbling off the bike and ending an inch from the edge, maybe going off slow with time for one to hang on. But nope, they plummet and it was done with such confidence by the camera that for a split second (the illogic of killing them both off aside) I thought that was it. They’re done for. Lucky for them, Ren catches them at the last second, managing to snag Jaune’s sword and them and immediately use his semblance so the grimm doesn’t eat them. That’s skill, baby!!

But you can see why he’s pissed, beyond just the fact that his semblance is holding this group together. It’s not Jaune and Yang’s fault that there was suddenly a cliff, but last we saw Ren he was heading towards Oscar. He had a plan. Granted, not one that was likely to lead anywhere given the Hound’s power (and the plot needing Oscar to reach Salem), but that’s not the point. He was pulling himself towards their kidnapped friend and then at the last second had to cut himself loose to save two others. This moment wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it would take someone with no emotions at all not to be frustrated by it.

So we leave the trio literally hanging out and return to Ruby’s group who is threatening kids!

Seriously though WTF, Weiss? Look, I haven’t always been kind to Whitley. In fact, I think there’s a Volume 7 recap where I really laid into him for his attitude and for supporting Jacques. But then—with the help of some friends and other anon perspectives—I thought about it for a hot second and considered how little power this child has. I was wrong to blame him for so much given the various circumstances here. It took, like… five minutes of thinking, and that’s for a fictional character, not a real life brother. Weiss clearly hasn’t given her brother five seconds of thought. He’s in the same abusive household that she was. He wasn’t blessed with combat abilities and a semblance to easily escape. He didn’t have Weiss there to guide him like Winter guided her. He had to watch BOTH his sisters abandon him to Jacques… so when exactly was he supposed to learn to be better? Why would he be inclined to? Weiss was an entitled racist when she got to school and needed new friends to show her a new path. She admitted as much last volume! Yet the fact that Whitley is completely alone in this house while their mom locks herself in her room to drink doesn’t register at all? This woman, an adult out to save the world as we’re frequently told, never once considered what it took to get her here and realize that Whitley has had none of the resources she did?

I want to emphasize that Weiss threatens him with her weapon. It’s not just that she’s dismissive of him and his plight, she’s also happy to use violence if Whitley doesn’t do exactly as he’s told. Violence… against her brother… who is a child… without any training. Again: WTF, Weiss? You know how I was praising RWBY last episode for not having the group beat up the Atlas personnel? Yeah, we get this instead.

Then she tells him to go to his room??

Speculation is that Whitley is about 2-3 years younger than Weiss. Or, to put it another way, roughly the same age as Weiss’ leader, Ruby. She’ll follow Ruby unquestioningly into world-changing decisions, but sends her brother to his room like a toddler? Which is it, RWBY? Are 17 year-olds leaders you should listen to, or babies who must leave the room while the grownups talk? He certainly can’t be any younger than Oscar, so again, she’ll fight beside him, but treat Whitley like this? Whitley isn’t exactly going to offer help in a respectful, eager manner, but that “Fine. What do you expect me to do?” was incredibly open given his situation. He was willing to help and that was the perfect opportunity to have him, you know, do something. Something small and innocuous that wouldn’t threaten the team if he betrayed them, but kept him around so he could talk to someone. But nope. Weiss just sends him to his room after criticizing him for not understanding that they’re “busy trying to save Atlas.” Weiss, what does Whitley know about all that? He’s locked up in this manor after your father was arrested and the one news clip we’ve seen said that no one knows why Ironwood recalled his forces, or what’s up with those grimm overhead. She’s acting like he should have any idea what’s happening right now.

Also, all of this is coming on the heels of Willow begging Weiss not to forget her brother, so that’s just great. RWBY has the rest of their time in the manor to fix this, because if Weiss comes out of that scene having only been handed the means of arresting Jacques… that’s just bad all around.

Finally, should we talk about how strange this choice is? Last episode we saw the group flying away and I assumed it was them leaving Atlas to go back to Mantle. It certainly looked that way, but now they’ve decided to stay until Nora is awake. Why? Isn’t it more dangerous here? I mean, they didn’t know the staff was gone and there are still arrest warrants out. Was Weiss just going to threaten anyone who dared report her? Where are these shields Ironwood spoke of? Have they gotten through them somehow, or are they currently trapped in Atlas?

This is “Oscar is in the slums, leaves the slums, learns they’re going to the crater, but the slums are actually the crater, so we’re heading back now” all over again.

The one good thing about this scene is that Blake and Ruby talk! …for about two seconds lol. Eh, better than nothing. Blake says that if Ruby is worried about Yang she could try calling her. Ruby has, and Yang isn’t picking up.

Does Ruby think she’s in danger or ignoring her? Unclear. We, however, know that Yang is now lost in the middle of nowhere with no reception and no transportation back to Mantle. The three of them start trudging towards an outpost Ren spotted, needing to find shelter “before this weather drops our aura levels completely.” So what about everyone without aura?? I wish that I could check off the bingo space again because this is ridiculous.

Ren, once again, isn’t in the mood to talk, but unlike Jaune, Yang can’t leave something alone. So she coaxes him to tell him what’s wrong and you know what? She does a real good job at first. She’s encouraging, but her voice is level and she doesn’t come across as accusing. Well done, Yang.

Things quickly fall apart though as Ren says EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED TO SAY TO THIS GROUP. Holy shit, everyone, let’s count ‘em up:

Nothing is going smoothly so let’s stop pretending it’s all fine

Oscar has been horrifically kidnapped that’s #bad

This is not a normal part of being a huntsmen

We don’t know the first thing about being huntsmen!

Every time we’ve had to make real decisions we got them all wrong, yay us

We’re trapping a city here for Salem to destroy whenever she feels like it, yay us x2

Our leader is barely more than a kid and one of us cheated our way here

People are going to die because of us

“I’m just saying what nobody else wants to”

Yang’s response? Incredibly weak imo. Just as weak as the fandom’s has been since this conflict started in Volume 7. Her argument against letting Atlas go is that Salem won’t just let it fly away with her whale… but no one knows that. She’s certainly just letting it sit right now! Assuming that something won’t work because you expect the worst is not a compelling reason not to try.

Her argument against their ineptitude? They saved Haven, took down a leviathan, and got the lamp to Atlas. Let’s break that down a little more.

Did they fight well at Haven? Yes… overlooking that Weiss would have died if not for a timely semblance reveal. But the real point here is that they “saved” the school by getting the Relic. Problem is, they never won the relic, it was handed to them. Literally. They retrieved it not because they were capable of overpowering Salem’s forces and a Maiden, but because Raven decided she’d rather her daughter be a target than her. That doesn’t tell us anything about the group’s skill, only about Raven’s flaws.

They took down a leviathan… after drawing it to Argus in the first place. That’s kind of an important detail when Ren is trying to make the point that their decisions suck. Also, how did they take it down? Using Ruby’s silver eyes, which only worked because Jinn randomly decided to let her stop time. Oh, and also using the rest of Cordovin’s mech that they hadn’t yet destroyed. Again, nothing about that fight demonstrates their skill, only others’ abilities, resources, and the strange favoritism they benefit from.

Getting the lamp to Atlas. Well, you drove Ozpin away who was your ticket across the border. Then Maria told Ruby how to save you all from the Apathy (and Ruby herself was the only one able to resist long enough to demand you get the Relic back in the first place). You started that leviathan fight and ended it surrounded by Cordovin’s fleet. So how did you get to Atlas? Because she let you cross. How did you reach Ironwood? Because he dropped your arrest. Yang stopped Adam, yes, but that was its own, separate fight. Regarding the “getting to Atlas” point they botched that up completely.

Basically, this resume of victories is unpersuasive, to say the least. Yang highlights the end goal rather than acknowledging Ren’s point: have we, as individuals, actually made things better lately?

They absolutely have not.

Note how, in contrast, Ren includes himself in this criticism. He doesn’t just lay responsibility at Ruby and Jaune’s feet, he’s second on the list for being underprepared. For messing up. He’s just an “orphan from nowhere” and this tells us that, unlike Qrow, Ren is actually concerned with this problem and his own place in it. He’s not just blowing off steam and running from his responsibility. Rather, he’s making important points here yet, as he says, no one else wants to listen.

And that’s why the scene ultimately sucks. “But, Clyde! It’s a speech straight out of your metas!” Yes it was and it was beautiful to witness, but the problem is that Ren’s supposed to be wrong. Jaune glares at him before leaving. Yang clenches her fists and asks if he just wants to push everyone away. He’s left hanging his head. Then later they talk about how “broody” he is and provide advice about how to stop doing that. The takeaway here is not, ‘Holy shit, Ren is right and we should rethink our choices,’ but rather that Ren is wrong and needs to come over to their ‘correct’ perspective.

I love that this was laid out. I love that the group is actually fighting for once (way better than Ruby and Yang’s ‘fight’). I also love that we finally see what’s bothering Ren… but we all know this isn’t leading anywhere. The scene ends with Jaune dismissing everything by stating that if Ren doesn’t want to be a huntsmen, fine, but he has a job to do. Ren is supposed to feel guilty here for… telling the truth? Jaune is supposed to look like the hero for soldiering on with his responsibility while moody Ren drags behind. The scene is great, but the purpose of the scene sucks.

Actually, I’d like to talk about a portion of the outpost scene real quick. Skipping ahead, because we really see here how little RT believes the words that they’ve put in Ren’s mouth. Jaune admits that he’s right about cheating into Beacon… but nothing else. Indeed, that “mistake” is swept away because he’s earned his right to be here now. You shouldn’t care about that anymore! Ignoring the point Ren was making about how much they’re in over their heads. Yang apologizes to Jaune on Ren’s behalf, making it clear that she cares more about his potentially hurt feelings than any of the points Ren made. Remind you of anything? Like oh, say, that time Yang cared more about Jaune’s feelings than whether he’d hurt Oscar after slamming him against a wall? All of this despite the fact that Yang JUST accused Ruby of the horrible situation they’re in. Now Ren acknowledges that they’re in a horrible situation and Yang… doesn’t care?? Again, RT is good at giving us the pieces we want, the surface level stuff, but is rarely able to combine it into something fulfilling. If anyone actually takes Ren’s stance seriously, changing their ways rather than talking him out of it, I’ll be shocked.

Especially since the real nail in the coffin of this scene is Jaune telling him that “The more you hide from what you’re feeling, the more alone you’re going to feel.”

Jaune………..buddy……….pal…………were you asleep during that scene? Ren DID tell you what he was feeling. For the first time he did come clean about everything he was experiencing and you both rejected him for it! He’s not pulling away because he’s hiding from what he’s feeling, he’s pulling away because he did show it and both his friends reduced it to “pushing [them] away.” Which is it, Jaune? Should Ren be more open, or should he stop saying things you don’t want to hear? It’s a more complicated version of telling your parents about your interests, them mocking those interests, and then they’re surprised when you don’t share things with them again. I mean, the gall of Jaune to reject everything Ren said in the moment, ignore it after he’s calmed down, and then lecture him about being hiding his emotions.

Jaune and Yang (and the story) don’t want Ren to say what he really thinks, they want him to say what they think. Ren should speak up, but only if he’s going to agree with them.

So Ren sits out in the snow because potentially dying from cold is better than staying in a room with Yang and Jaune. I can’t really blame him lol.

One last thing about the fight scene. Remember how May was put in her place last episode for not using Penny’s name? Well, Yang doesn’t either. Granted, “the Maiden” isn’t as overtly insulting as “tin can” (or whatever it is May said), but it amounts to the same thing: both are replacing Penny’s individual identity with her status as a tool they can use. May sees Penny as the cool tech girl who can get them into the military base. Yang sees Penny as the cool magic girl who is the answer to all their ‘How do we win this?’ problems. Everyone is using Penny. Ruby to launch Amity, Ironwood to open the vault, but you know RWBY will never have a scene where Penny corrects Yang about her name and Ruby looks on, smug. Because the group can continually make the same mistakes as the adults/antagonists around them, but aren’t called out on it in the same way. Ren calls them out and he’s told he’s wrong.

Anyway, the tl;dr of this scene is that Ren is the best. Too bad the story doesn’t realize that.

We then move to my poor Oscar who wakes up looking at his own feet, Ozpin’s voice is as reassuring as it can be under the circumstances. “Oscar? Don’t panic. We’re going to be okay.” I mentioned two weeks back that I hoped the show would explain why we didn’t see Ozpin try to take control during the Hound fight and we still don’t have an explanation, so that’s disappointing. This line is all we get from Ozpin because that’s the norm now. We moved from him being written out of the story entirely to having one or two lines an episode (excluding a speech meant more for the audience than the characters). So, improvement? But a lackluster one, I think. Especially given that he is the focal point of this entire situation with Salem.

I’m avoiding the elephant in the room though. Oscar’s torture is horrifying. In the sense that it should be horrifying. Salem might still inexplicably not be attacking Atlas—and what she’s after at any given time might be getting more and more muddled—but she’s absolutely terrifying here, which is what we needed. The mix of assault with that nurturing tone is just skin crawling. “My long lost Ozma. Found at last” while she (I think?) shows images of their daughters. Honestly, I only heard that from friends, didn’t catch it myself, but then my eyes are shit to begin with. I couldn’t see a thing in this shadowed shot.

(It’s like watching Game of Thrones all over again.)

Oscar tries to pretend to be Ozpin and he does a damn good job with “I’m sorry the reunion isn’t living up to your expectations.” It’s not enough to fool Salem though. She says he’s “not him” yet and I’m again reminded that the show continually references this merge without showing us any change. They’re apparently closer to one person now, but they still speak as individuals. Oscar has Ozpin’s magic, but hasn’t used it, even when his life was on the line. The closest we get to evidence that the merge is underway is that Oscar attempts to lie about knowing Jinn’s name… but what the hell else is he supposed to do here? I suppose he could go the action hero route and shout that she’ll never get the answer out of him, but trying to lie is by far the safer option. That doesn’t tell us that he’s becoming like Ozpin, or even that they’re truly “like-minded souls” as Salem claims. It just tells us that Oscar has two braincells to rub together and can say a short sentence without totally giving himself away. Maybe the kid played a few rounds of Remnant’s Among Us.

This moment highlights another justification for Ozpin’s secrets though. He lives an existence where he is not in control of his own (“own”) body. At any point the host he’s with could falter, fail, turn on him, and in doing so give crucial, world ending information to the enemy. It’s already happened on a small scale, with Oscar successfully taking control, stealing the Jinn information, and giving it to the group. Now here he’s being tortured. How long can he last? Will Oscar give up Jinn’s name? If Ozpin didn’t have the location of the Relic locked up tight in his own consciousness, would that information be lost too? I’m not looking to blame Oscar for anything here—I don’t want to imply that this situation is karma for him taking Jinn’s name, or some such nonsense—I just want to acknowledge that this is the sort of stuff Ozpin has to worry about. If he shares these secrets then that’s more fallible people who are capable of giving that information to Salem. If he keeps them…well, he’s the only one who has to keep his mouth shut during a torture session. His host might want information about the Relics, there’s an argument to be made that they’re entitled to them, but if I were Ozpin I wouldn’t want to take that risk either. The question has essentially become, “Would I trust a 14 year old to keep quiet while tortured by a witch?” Maybe Oscar will! He’s enough of a BAMF to manage it… but that’s still not something I’d want to bet on. Better that Oscar simply doesn’t have that information to give Salem, period.

So obviously this “working relationship” that Salem wants isn’t going well. When Oscar lies she jumps straight to torturing him.

This was legitimately hard to watch and I’m torn about that. On the one hand it’s what I wanted: a scary, powerful Salem who uses the tools at her disposal to get what she’s after. That’s great! Yet I’m still reminded of how far this show has gone to literally beat up the child of the group. Oscar is the one punched into a tree, attacked by a friend, shot by an ally, the star of the show’s most horrifying kidnapping, now the first to be outright tortured by Salem. I don’t really have a point here, I’m not looking to level any specific accusations at RT, I’m just commenting on the pattern and acknowledging that it makes me uncomfortable. There are parts of a story where you’re supposed to be uncomfortable—like the villain torturing a hero—and then there are parts where you’re uncomfortable because the writers seem overly focused on showing images of a specific kid suffering and that’s… weird.

I’m not sure what to make of that just yet.

Anyway, Salem’s magic here is surprisingly pretty. Pretty and painful, but I expected more red and blacks, perhaps some spikey imagery, so the rainbow was an interesting surprise. Given the amount of pain Oscar is in, I suspect too much of that would kill him, so Salem calls in Hazel to continue the interrogation. The first few hits he deals are for Haven, the others for his sister.

See, this is why RWBY needs to actually embrace its “life isn’t a fairy tale” theme. You cannot show me child torture in one week and then move to Ruby “We’ll win because we’re the good guys ^_^” Rose the next. The whole reason why Ironwood (and Ren now) was right is because this is the shit reality they’re dealing with. You didn’t run when you had the chance and now Oscar (and Ozpin) is being tortured. You keep talking about saving Mantle, but the only reason why they’re not already dead is because the writing randomly turns the cold danger on and off. This mix of horrific, real world danger and unjustified confidence doesn’t work.

…also, I officially don’t want any redemption arc for Hazel. This guy is beating on a child because he’s convinced that he’s Ozpin, blaming Ozpin for his sister’s decision, all while forwarding a genocidal maniac’s plans. Hazel and his ridiculous shirts can just get on out of here, thanks.

Finally, I just want to say... this is the woman a lot of the fandom defended. This is the woman you wanted raising those girls and blamed Ozpin for trying to escape with them.

This is how Salem treats children.

Oh, and all of this is without his aura because it just broke. So Oscar is in serious, non-fantasy trouble here.

Someone please rescue him soon 😭

We finish up with some frankly boring stuff with the rest of the villain cast. We learn that the Hound is an “experiment” and a new one given that Cinder has never seen it before. Salem’s dialogue is admittedly great—“Do you hear that, my pet? She thinks. She wants.”—but Cinder just rehashes everything we’ve heard from her before. She wants the Winter Maiden power. She has trouble remembering that she’s playing at Salem’s slave. She even rehashes the exact same line, “Without you, I am nothing.” Why are we wasting time on this when we had that tantalizing backstory before?

Bleh.

Salem tells her in no uncertain terms to stay put.

So Cinder immediately leaves LOL.

She just wants to “check on” Amity tower because she “knows those kids” in ways Salem doesn’t. I’m admittedly slightly confused as to how Cinder knows to go there? Did she believe Ironwood’s lie that it was finished even though it apparently IS finished now? Has she overheard something? I’m not sure. Frankly, keeping track of that stuff in RWBY is headache inducing, so let’s just roll with it.

Neo, the only one with a brain around here, makes it clear she thinks Cinder is an idiot for going. Emerald, always the Cinder fan, offers to go in her stead. She’s been working on her semblance, so I expect we’ll see something cool with that soon. They head off, apparently not worried about what Salem will do to them when they get back.

Which is when we move to the outpost for our final scene, most of which I’ve covered. I only have two more things I want to bring up here.

The first is the tone. As said earlier, the tone of the Hound chase wasn’t horrible, but I find myself disappointed in the overall attitude of Jaune and Yang. Yang is making jokes about how they can’t fly, high-fiving Jaune, and they’re both shrugging off Ren’s concerns. Jaune says he won’t be able to sleep due to worrying about Oscar, but neither of them act particularly worried. Which isn’t to say they need to be sobbing the whole time or whatever, just that Ren is the only one who feels real here. They may not agree with his stance about everything else, but they’ve all experienced the same event: watching a grimm that can morph, talk, and think horrifically kidnap a teammate. Shouldn’t there be more emotion attached to that? Things have gotten better with Oscar than they’ve been in the past, largely due to details like Nora’s hug at the beginning of the volume, but let’s be real, they’re still not perfect. Do we think Jaune and Yang would be this nonchalant if Ruby were kidnapped that way? Say all you want about Ruby being her sister, or others being teammates for longer, but the fact remains that Oscar has been taken to Salem herself and the only one reacting to that in any meaningful way is Ren.

Who they say will “brood himself to death.” That right there. The one guy freaking out about your kidnapped friend should not be described as “brooding.”

All of which segues into my second point, namely that Yang doesn’t seem to care about Ruby anymore either! She asks Jaune, “Do you think she thinks less of me?” for not going to Amity and when Jaune reassures her that Ruby will always love her, Yang’s response is, “Yeah… Ruby.”

She was thinking about Blake.

The kicker? I thought she was talking about Ruby too. Because Ruby is her sister. Because she and Ruby had the fight (“fight”). Because Ruby was trying to call her to check in. Because Blake and Yang didn’t even acknowledge that they went on different missions here. I thought Blake was like Jaune, not really taking a side and just heading with Ruby because the team is splitting down the middle. Where did this worry come from?

And I want to praise RT here (I really do) because I can see the effort. I said Blake and Yang needed to spend time apart, they have. I said they needed to work through their co-dependent identities, now Blake is reminding Nora (and theoretically herself too) that someone you love is just a part of you. I said that the group couldn’t be a hive-mind, now there’s disagreement. I said the show needs to make Blake/Yang canon at some point and you can’t do that if they don’t talk about and to each other. So I fully admit that this is everything I asked for… so why does it feel so badly done? No matter how many boxes it checks off, it’s still a moment where we thought Yang was finally worrying about her sister again—like she used—and then it’s ‘Sike! It was really just about Blake! Again. Yang is worried about a problem that was never even introduced.’

I suppose that’s why it doesn’t work for me. Yang and Ruby had the falling out, but Yang and Blake, somehow, become the focus. Is it really so hard to write Yang as a sister and a potential love interest? Yang apparently can’t care for Ruby and Blake, Weiss can’t care for her team and her brother, Ruby can’t care for Mantle and Ironwood… it’s like each character gets one (1) thing to put their emotional energy towards at any given time and that’s it. That’s all they get.

On the flip side, this is why Ren feels like a person this episode. He cares about Mantle, and the future fight, and their past mistakes, and his place here, and the problems within the team, and Nora… He feels like a well-rounded person! vs. Yang and Jaune who don’t even consider his perspective, vs. Yang having a fight with her sister but only cares about Blake. They’re one-dimensional in comparison.

It is, as always, disappointing.

As the group “broods” then the camera shows us a piece of the ice nearby, slowly cracking as Jaune says that “Things always seem to get worse before they get better.” Well, that’s unexpected. I didn’t think our opening would be literal. I’ve been worried about Atlas falling on everyone, not everyone falling… to whatever is underneath the kingdom as a whole. Is the kingdom falling apart? Or is something waking up and moving towards the surface? If RWBY can reproduce the characterization we got with the Hound, I wouldn’t be opposed to another leviathan grimm rising from the snowy deep to assist Salem…

Though how the fuck group will survive everything and that, who knows lol.

And that’s our episode! Issues aside—most of which have been ongoing issues. We knew they were there—I think this was our strongest episode so far this volume. Well done! There are still problems, no doubt, but at least I was only bored for a small portion of that 20 minutes. Let’s just keep heading in that direction.

Exciting Saturday, huh?

Regarding bingo updates:

RWBY actually re-used a grimm I thought they’d abandoned, so well done there.

No civilians around for the giant grimm army to attack, so that was fine. Kind of strange though that they completely disappeared after the Hound left.

The timeline is starting to get wonky. For example, what kind of stakes am I supposed to expect when Cinder decides to head to Amity? Is it currently empty? Is Pietro there? Has Penny made it yet? I said weeks ago that RWBY would need to follow multiple groups to fill out fourteen episodes in just two days—and they’re definitely doing that—but that means we don’t have a clear sense of what events are happening simultaneously and what are meant to be linear.

No Winter or Ironwood this episode.

Watts is back with Jacques! Potential for team-up 2.0? That will admittedly be hard with Qrow and Robyn there, unless those two escape.

(Oh yeah, I thought Qrow and the others would be held in the military base and Ruby would find him during her heist… but she doesn’t even care that Qrow is in jail.)

Maria is still a ghost. If we hit the halfway mark with her not doing anything I’m calling the space.

I definitely wouldn’t call this cliffhanger needless. That’s actually a cool way to end things, even if Jaune’s line was pretty on the nose.

Neo may be getting closer to backstabbing Cinder if those expressions are anything to go by.

Still waiting to see if Amity works.

And finally, drumroll please! …

“More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship.” Yup, I’m marking that this week. After Blake’s ‘just a part of you’ comment and now Yang only being worried about her reaction? Definitely calling it. If RWBY confirms a relationship this volume I’ll eat my words—and some celebratory cake — but until then salt prevails. Especially after the fiasco that was Supernatural.

Still no bingo. Ah well, maybe next week lol.

Until then! 💜

[Ko-fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby fault #rwby recaps #mymetas

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Delicacy Date (Eng Translation)

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Note: This is a cancelled date which will unlikely come to EN :’(

More from this Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

The date begins with MC sitting in for a negotiation meeting between Loveland Financial Group (“LFG”) and Yuan Shan Company

The negotiation has been dragging on for 2 hours because both sides cannot agree on a price

Victor has been silent and no one knows what’s going through his mind

When he finally speaks, MC is startled because she has never seen Victor in full-blown work mode before

Lots of business jargon follow. Victor is basically really badass and shows he has done detailed research on Yuan Shan Company and knows that it’s not worth the money they are asking for:

Victor: You think LFG needs to rely on the little credit standing Yuan Shan has? Or do you think you’re in a position to discuss terms with me?

Victor: An LFG without Yuan Shan will still be LFG. Without LFG, what would Yuan Shan become?

Victor: I don’t plan to rescue a company that has decided to “commit suicide”.

Victor gives the representative of Yuan Shan Company another chance to re-consider, then leaves the room.

While MC is out for a breather, she overhears employees from Yuan Shan gossiping about Victor:

Yuan Shan Employee A: I heard early on that Victor is no-nonsense at work, but I never thought he’d be so…

Yuan Shan Employee B: He’s so domineering and arrogant, though you can’t deny he’s cool.

Yuan Shan Employee C: Sure, he’s cool, but if you were to live with him, the stress would be akin to shouldering an entire mountain.

Yuan Shan Employee A: What do you mean?

Yuan Shan Employee C: He’s basically an ice sculpture. I felt like I was going to suffocate in the meeting room… tch. His words are vicious! He’s so harsh! He clearly wants to swallow us up whole.

This lady… She actually gets it…

Yuan Shan Employee C: Also, I heard that last month, he fired an elderly worker who had been working here for five years because of some trivial reason.

MC: !?

Yuan Shan Employee A: Is that true? Don’t spread false rumours!

Yuan Shan Employee C: I already said I heard it from someone. Though… seeing him today, I wouldn’t rule it out as a possibility.

Yuan Shan Employee B: Just think about it. If he isn’t hard-hearted, how could LFG grow into what it is today in just 8 years? I also heard…

Their voices trail off, and I’m unable to hear what the employees say after this.

I originally saw Victor as just being plain overbearing, but I never thought…

MC starts getting flooded with memories of how Victor points out minor issues in her reports, his red-inked comments haunting her.

In the midst of her trembling, she sees Victor coming her way.

I panic and shift backwards, almost tripping because of my shaky feet. Victor quickly reaches out and steadies me.

At this moment, his black eyes, which look as deep as the sea, betray no hint of emotion. His frown, however, carries slight reproach.

Feeling shocked, I tear myself from his grip and jump to the side.

MC: S-sorry!

Before Victor says anything, he can only watch the girl’s retreating form as she hurriedly runs away.

Goldman: CEO, do you think MC is a little weird today, like she’s gotten possessed…

Victor doesn’t respond, only watching as MC grows smaller and smaller into the distance. He looks to be deep in thought.

MC continues to feel anxious as the afternoon goes on.

MC: Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!

Victor: Don’t think about what?

Turning my head, I see a cold-faced Victor standing behind me.

MC: …!

Caught off guard, I am once again shocked out of my senses. With a ‘clang’, my lunch box falls to the ground.

Victor looks at the sight on the floor and frowns.

Victor: Why are you afraid?

MC: …Nothing…

I hurriedly squat to clean up the mess, but he reaches out to pull me up.

Victor: Come to the office with me.

MC: W-what do you want?

Victor doesn’t turn around, leaving me with the sight of his back.

Victor: There’s some wrong data in your report.

The curtains in the office are drawn and sunlight pours in through the window. The air is warm, but the only thing I feel is coldness.

The only sound in the room is the rustling of paper as Victor flips through the documents.

I stand in front of his office desk, like a child who has been punished.

After an inordinate amount of time, Victor finally speaks.

Victor: Do you have any questions for me?

I nod my head mindlessly, and then hurriedly shake my head.

In my heart, I mutter, “Weren’t you the one who came asking me about the wrong data…”

Victor: None? Very good. But I have a question for you.

Victor folds his arms on the desk and looks at me.

Victor: You’ve been avoiding me today?

MC: N-no I have not!

Victor: How so?

MC: …

I have nothing to say in response, and lack the guts to look at Victor. I stare at my toes.

I hear the sound of him getting up and his footsteps coming towards me. I feel his breath on my skin. I instinctively shift backwards, but he holds on to my waist to stop me.

I hear his voice from the top of my head.

Victor: Am I very scary?

I’m frozen to the spot, unable to answer.

The palm of his hand is slightly warm. The heat seeps through my clothes and onto my skin. I have nowhere to escape.

Victor: You look as if…

Victor pauses and lets out a sigh.

Victor: I let you sit in during the negotiation for you to learn. Not to let your wild imagination be used for things that serve no purpose. Ask me directly if you have any questions, instead of troubling your own IQ.

MC: …

Victor and his usual snarky comments.

I lift my head to look at Victor. His eyes lack the same coldness they had during the negotiation, but they carry an unreadable emotion.

This person… is he trying to explain himself because he can sense that I am avoiding him…

Victor: Do you still have any questions for me?

MC: …Yes, I have one question.

Victor: Speak your mind.

MC: …I heard that an elderly worker made a tiny mistake, one that could be ignored, but you fired him?

Victor: You’re very free today. You even have time to listen to gossip.

I duck my head slightly in embarrassment. Victor sees this and laughs in a low voice. I feel his grip on my waist tighten.

Victor: What else?

I shake my head.

Victor: Listen well. I don’t have the time to bother myself with trivial mistakes. Furthermore, firing someone requires legitimate and reasonable justifications.

I feel Victor releasing another sigh. After pondering for a moment, he continues.

Victor: As for the negotiation earlier… that’s a necessary technique.

He really looks like… he’s explaining himself to me.

Right now, Victor may not be gentle, but he doesn’t come across as aggressive.

Victor: Are you still scared?

With my face beet red, I shake my head again. Satisfied, Victor retracts his hand.

Victor: All right. Make a reservation at a restaurant then.

MC: Huh?

Why does he suddenly want to make a reservation? I haven’t even corrected the data yet…

Victor, as though reading my thoughts, continues.

Victor: Even though your data is strange, it doesn’t stump me.

MC: …

Victor: Don’t forget the restaurant.

MC: How about Souvenir?

Victor casts me a glance.

Victor: I’m very busy today.

I nod my head vigorously. He spent the entire morning on the negotiation, and having to cook at night… Even King Kong would be tired to the point of paralysis.

MC: I didn’t ask what kind of restaurant Victor wanted, or who he was going with…

MC leaves the office and looks for a restaurant on her phone. She finally decides on one and notifies Victor, who doesn’t reply. After a successful negotiation with Yuan Shan, he calls out to her:

Victor: Let’s go for dinner.

He says this naturally, but I don’t know how to react.

MC: …Don’t you have plans tonight?

Victor: You picked the restaurant yourself, so I should like it.

The restaurant is in a rather inconvenient location, so they have to walk quite a distance to reach it. MC is wearing an uncomfortable pair of stilettos. He notices that her expression is off.

Victor looks at my stilettos, takes my hand in his, and slows down his pace.

Victor: Idiot.

The temperature of his hand flows into other parts of my body. Although only a mere second passed, both my cheeks are already flushed. I unconsciously wiggle my fingers but his hand simply grips even more tightly instead.

Victor: Such thin high heels, are you trying to sprain your ankle?

MC: Of course not!

Victor: Then be obedient.

He doesn’t continue, leading me to the restaurant slowly.

MC: Victor, why did you suddenly invite me to dinner? I thought you were going to eat with some important guest, so I specially picked this…

…exorbitantly priced restaurant with a meal that will take hours to complete…

Victor: What, do you want to go somewhere else?

MC: …No need!

They proceed to have an evening of fine dining.

Victor: I didn’t expect that you’d be competent at picking out a restaurant.

MC: What do you mean by “didn’t expect”? It’s just picking a restaurant. My work is so much better than this…

The corners of Victor’s lips waver, but he doesn’t speak.

Under the warm yellow lights, I suddenly feel that the Victor in front of me and the Victor earlier in the day are two completely different people.

I ponder for a moment and decide to ask a question.

MC: Are the reports I give you really that bad? Is that why…

Victor continues ladling his soup, lifting his eyes towards me.

Victor: When I pick out mistakes, it means you have space for improvement.

Even though his answer is short, he says it seriously.

Their meal takes hours to complete.

While walking out the door, Victor naturally takes my hand in his.

Victor: Why is your hand so cold?

MC: Maybe the food we ate just now was on the colder side?

Victor: Let’s find a place to have something warm.

MC: Huh?

Did Victor not have enough?

The portions just now were quite small, and easy to digest.

It’s already late, so most restaurants would be closed…

I think for a moment.

MC: How about going to a food street for supper!

As predicted, Victor’s expression reveals a look of distaste.

MC: It’s really delicious… I always have wonton and spicy stir-fried river snail there with Willow and Kiki!

[Note] Wonton is a type of Chinese dumpling

Seeing how my eyes sparkle excitedly, Victor can only give in.

Victor: All right.

Victor parks his car outside the food street and they go to the store.

MC: Boss, I want a big portion of spicy stir-fried river snail! And two bowls of wonton!

Boss: Yo MC, you’re alone today? Where are the other two ladies?

MC: They’re busy so they can’t come. I’m not alone though!

I introduce the boss to Victor, who is standing behind me with a cold expression on his face.

MC: This… this is my friend Victor.

Boss: Ah, this lad is not bad, rather serious hahaha~ Lad, spicy or non-spicy?

Victor: Either way is fine.

Boss: This MC – she can’t take spicy food but always wants maximum spiciness, and even adds a layer of chili powder into the soup hahahaha~

A little embarrassed, I stick out my tongue.

MC: That’s only because your wontons and chili powder are just so delicious that I can’t do without them!

Victor looks at me, his voice carrying with it a rare smile.

Victor: Wouldn’t have expected you to have such a quirk.

MC: What “quirk”? This is clearly an interest… No, a hobby!

Victor arches an eyebrow.

Victor: Quirk. It means the person has an interest that differs from other people.

MC: Fine fine fine, and this CEO likes collecting small toys!

Victor’s expression suddenly falls. Meanwhile, I continue treading these dangerous grounds.

MC: For example, a cute lamp…

Victor: …

The food is served and Victor tries them.

Victor: I’ve never had such… interesting food in a long time. It tastes very good.

MC: Ah? … Which tastes better – this or the food from the restaurant just now?

Victor taps the bowl of wontons and points to the food in front of us, probably saying that the food here tastes better.

I smile, my eyes crinkling in happiness.

MC: Come to think of it, the best things I’ve eaten would be the food you make, and the food prepared by the boss here would be in second place.

Victor laughs lightly.

Victor: You dummy. Food doesn’t exist solely to pander to one’s tastes or to fill one’s stomach. There’s something more important - “companionship”.

MC: ?

Victor: It’s okay if you don’t understand.

MC: I understand!

Victor turns to look at me, a serious look on his face. I think for a moment before speaking.

MC: It means that when you eat with certain people, even delicacies can become tasteless. And when you eat with certain people, even cold soup can become excellent!

Victor: Although the way you express it is a little lacking, the idea not wrong.

Must Victor’s agreement carry with it a flavor of ridicule as well…

When I look up again, I notice some sauce at the corner of Victor’s lips.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed, taking his time to finish the food in front of him.

Seeing him like this, I let out a laugh.

MC: Victor, come here a little~

Victor: ?

Victor leans towards me.

I reach out to help him wipe off the traces of sauce. He is stunned for a moment, then grabs onto my hand before I can retract it. His warmth travels across my entire body.

Suddenly, time seems to have stopped…

Under the luster of the lights, the steam from the food rises. Victor’s face seems to fill my entire vision. I can hear the faint noise from the crowd, food stall owners shouting, the sound of food being cooked…

These sounds tell me that time is ticking on…

It’s just… me…

I feel a thin layer of Victor’s breath slowly encasing my surroundings. I can almost hear his heart beat. It beats with strength.

He looks at my shocked expression, and slowly opens his mouth.

Victor: Just now, you asked why I invited you to join me for dinner. I think you already know the reason.

Through the steam, I can see a rare tenderness in his eyes. As well as the seriousness that has never left.

Victor: I know people think I’m unreasonable, or even scary. But the last thing I want is for you to be that person.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc victor #mlqc spoilers #love and producer #cncancelled

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