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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but��“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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jjpmoans · 4 years

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breakfast and macarons | pjy

↦ w.c : 5k+fluffs to kill you

↦ warnings : fluffs and i don’t know, tears? a bit of suggestive scene at the beginning but not too much.

↦ a/n :Happy belated birthday my fav girl @transparentweepingstudent. Do you remember how we start talking to each other? You were on anon then we replied back and forth and we ended up talking regularly, torturing each other with jinyoung lol. I am so sorry that I took too much time to write this fic. A lot of things happened and I didn’t get to finish it. But I wish you had a blast birthday and hopefully you love this fic. It will probably be cliche but we all love cliches. Enjoyyy the fic!

Waking up from sleep is forever a mystery to you. How you catch the first sound that penetrates your ears and like a switch, your body reacts to it and slowly you’ll come to consciousness. You will crack open one eyelid and start to search for some traces of which part of the day has you woken up to. Did you wake up at dawn? Or did you wake up to light rays escaping your curtain?

However today when you wake up, your eyes are met with darkness. The first thing that comes to your mind is you’re not in your apartment. A certain frame proves your point and calms you, knowing you’re not somewhere else. You stayed unmoved for what you feel like five minutes, trying to figure out what time it is before you feel the arms around your waist pull you closer to a sturdy chest, an unmistakable length has moved deeper inside you which in return, made you gasp and unintentionally squeezed his girth.

A groan escapes him sleepily and he noses your neck, inhaling your scent. Sexy gruff voice greets you from behind, a sneaky palm brushes one of your breasts and swiftly palms it. “G’morning, sweetheart.”

Your mind flies to the night before, where blood rushes to your face as you remember the man behind you went wild with his birthday gift for you and kept you awake through all five consecutive orgasms which explains why he is still inside you, courtesy of this gentleman demanding to stay buried inside.

Madness, you laugh.

“Good morning, Jinyoung.” his rough stubbles rub against your soft skin, creating goose bumps and redness. You don’t mind, you love this man the way he is. With facial hairs, he looks even more sexy, intriguing and hot. Uncontrolled, you squeeze him again, earning another groan. The palm on your breast has gone to two fingers rolling your taut bud instead. “Hm, your stubbles tickles.”

“Don’t shave your beard please.”

A disapproving noise comes, with a remark, “I’ll look like a homeless person.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t because you can be a model with that handsome face.” you move away to face him, making him slip out of you, followed by a gush of mixture of your love making from the night before. “Oh- Jinyoung. That is a lot.”

He laughs when you whine about the mess you’re making on his bed sheet, ignoring your protest to get out of the bed and scoops you closer to him instead. “Jinyoung, this is so sticky!”

“You weren’t complaining last night.” he reminds you and you blush at his statement. He is so straight forward and it is so annoying.

“I was under your spell.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

Silence, a comforting one accompanies you as you stare at him. Like everything has come to a pause, your eyes trail down his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his lips. He’s perfect. You always wonder how you manage to wake up to this man every once and then. How have you scored a man this perfect?

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

He smiles, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I can see you’re going to be an emotional baby on your birthday morning but I won’t let it spoil the mood.”

He taps your ass, gesturing you to get up. His side of the bed is warm as he leaves you, yanking the curtain open and walks around naked to pick up your scattered clothes all over the place. So you’ve woken up somewhere after eight in the morning, you figured after your eyes landed on the clock. You eventually get up after watching his bare back muscles interestingly and even if you wish to stay longer in bed since you’re still sore and your bones are begging you to rest, Jinyoung’s invitation for a shower together sounds more inviting.

As much as your mind has imagined, the shower went without funny business because apparently Jinyoung has something else in his mind. You got teased a few times for trying to make him take you inside the glass bathroom however your man has great patience and self-control. He won’t be tempted when he is determined.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you stand in front of his wardrobe, contemplating your choice of clothing. You need to match the occasion and not look out of place just because your boyfriend wants to surprise you. “Jinyoung?”

“A breakfast date.” A casual style it is.

“We’re not taking the car?” you ask when Jinyoung presses the ground floor instead of the basement. You start to wonder where he is going to bring you since he doesn’t bring the car with him. It must be a walking distance cafe, but which one? Jinyoung lives close to a lot of fancy cafes that serve breakfast, you can’t guess which cafe he is bringing you to. “Thank god I’m wearing sneakers.”

“I’ve told you okay.” he reminds you just as the elevator opens to a quiet lounge. “But what did you say? No, I want to wear something pretty.”

“Shut up.” you tell him, elbowing him slightly before leaving him behind. The roaring laughter behind you sounds so terribly annoying so you quicken your pace to walk out of the lounge.

He catches up with you, still laughing but sounds softer and lovelier. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. Come let me shower my girlfriend with a lot of food for breakfast okay?”

“Only for breakfast?” you ask when Jinyoung pulls your hand in his, bringing you to the cafe direction. “What about lunch, tea, dinner and late night dinner?”

Jinyoung may look distracted but you know his ears are big for a reason. He is able to capture whatever you’ve said even without fully focusing on you, a trait he has trained himself since dating you to avoid you being mad at him for not concentrating. He got a point and that has successfully charmed you a few times when you thought he’s not listening but he proved it wrong instead. “I’ll feed you, don’t worry.”

See? Talk about being imperfect. Jinyoung? Never.

While he guides you to the cafe, you take extra attention to his subconscious behaviour that he naturally activates when with you. He doesn’t notice this, he will never notice it. However these are those simple things that move you. His hand which holds yours securely, not too tight but never too loose. Every time he turns around a corner, he’ll make sure you’ll be on the inner side of the sidewalk, never too far from him. He keeps responding to you even if he is focusing on guiding you, something you will never get used to. Though you know these are just small traits that every man should possess, but it has been so rare that it takes a gem to be this well mannered.

Five minutes into the walk, you realise Jinyoung’s strides have slowed down, slowly coming to a halt and when he turns to you with a smile, you guess you’ve reached your breakfast place.

“Wait- oh my god.” you exclaim when he opens the door for you, the chiming of the bell brings the chill to your spine. “Jinyoung! This is-”

You turn to him for him to answer you but he just nods, grinning at your priceless reaction. One thing that Jinyoung loves about you is the simplicity of your mind. You get excited over the smallest thing, granted it is done with sincerity and love. He knows bringing you to this cafe is a perfect plan, you will be over the moon for months.

It is definitely an exaggeration but you heard Ed Sheeran blasts from the speaker and you absent-mindedly made a little jump which causes Jinyoung to chuckle from your excitement. You are still gaping when you enter the exquisite cafe, your heart is full with excitement and you are just a second away from screaming. So when you stop to catch your breath after eyeing the interior design of the cafe, you turn to Jinyoung and hug him, screeching in his chest so your voice is muffled. You feel Jinyoung’s body shakes and you can picture him holding in his laugh because you’re too cute to handle.

“Hab i tod yu i wob yu?” you mumble against his chest. You’re not kidding when you say your heart is about to burst. You’ve been wanting to visit this cafe for a long time. It serves a buffet breakfast, the first thing that has caught your attention. Next it also has waiters to serve you fresh off the pan dishes like pancakes and scrambled eggs. Basically it is just like how hotel breakfast but you can dine in with reasonable price.

When you told Jinyoung about the cafe, he was reading one of his books and you can’t blame him if he didn’t hear you because one of his rules is not to disturb him while he is reading. However you were so excited to tell him that it was a walking distance from his place so you ignored the fact that he was so engrossed with reading. After that as you both carry your routine, it slipped your mind until today.

See what you thought about Jinyoung being perfect?

“What is it sweetheart? I can’t hear you clearly.” he laughs, actually understood you but acts like he doesn’t. It’s just like Jinyoung to tease you. Usually you’ll reply with snarky remarks but today, you really love him.

“I said I love you.” you grin, pulling him to the table. You’re excited to devour everything in the cafe. “I love LOVE you.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeap.” he shakes his head when he sees you being overly excited and waits patiently for him to pull the chair for you and starts sniffing the buffet like a starved puppy though it is literally a few metres away from your table.

“Hi. Here is the fresh-off pan menu.” the waiter greets you, placing two huge sized menus on the table. “Have you dined in here before?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, answering it on behalf of you. You have gone too far to listen to her explanation, the only things you have in mind are those delicious food waiting for you. You’re a big eater and Jinyoung is a dedicated boyfriend who loves to spoil you with food. A match made in heaven indeed.

You let the explanation pass your ears as you hear a bit of ‘..drinks over there..’, ‘...charged for leftovers…’ and when she finishes with a smile, you quickly turn your attention to jinyoung, grinning eagerly.

Jinyoung laughs as he realised you’re just an inch away from lunging towards the buffet but waits patiently for his approval. He closes the menu and tips his head as an approval, causing you to spring from your seat to the buffet section. Jinyoung’s laughter fills the cafe again, luckily it is less packed with customers since it is still early.

“Wow.” Jinyoung whistles when you placed another three plates of pancakes, rolled omelette, and toasts. Already on the table are your sausages, your muffins, waffles, your cereal bowl with a glass of milk, your fresh orange and Jinyoung’s black coffee. Oh yes you’ll get the fruits later. “Is the sex last night really good that you are starving?”

He eyes the amount of plates on your shared table and suddenly he thinks that they need an extension of the table. It is literally full with your food that he can’t even add his own. However that is the least of his concern, he knows he’s going to finish your food for you later so he doesn’t even bother to stand up and get his own food. “Are you sure you can eat all of these?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and sit down, grabbing your utensils. “Shut up. I’m hungry.”

“Oh I wouldn’t have guessed.” he snorts, reaching for a piece of waffles and a chocolate spread by his side. “You don’t look starving in the slightest.”

“Oh shut up.” you scoop a spoonful of cereal, the one you always love since you were little, humming cheerfully to the delicious taste of the familiar childhood cereal. Your taste buds are now stimulated and you can’t stop moaning at how good it tastes. “Jinyoung this is really good!”

Jinyoung halts in his motion, giving you an incredulous look. His waffle is now gone and he’s reaching over a piece of sausages when you slap his hand away from your precious piece of meat. “Ow. That’s just cereals, baby. C'mon, share the sausages.”

You glare at him when the tip of his finger touches the firm sausages. Raising your fork to your eye level, you jab the thin air. “Don’t touch my food after you’ve insulted my childhood cereal.”

“You’re ridiculous.” he chuckles, aiming for the muffins instead. You took three instead of two, that means one of them is his. Jinyoung internally laughs at how petty you will become when it involves food. It’s just another random thing he loves about you. “Eat a lot, baby.”

While you practically inhale your food, Jinyoung acts as your butler, cutting the sausages into smaller pieces and spreads the jams on the bread for you. Once he finishes playing butler, he starts feeding you so much that your cheeks are about to burst from all the feeding. “Jinnyom-”

He coos, laughing while nodding to your incoherent mumble and stops feeding to let you swallow them first. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He flickers his eyes to you while he brings another piece of pancake dipped in maple syrup to your mouth. “Says the one who brings all the food to the table.”

“I brought it for you too!”

“Yeah? I thought the sausages are yours?”

“That’s mine. You eat something else.”

The amount of food on your table decreases shortly with Jinyoung’s help. You are full and now Jinyoung is left to eat the leftovers. This is why he doesn’t bother to order anything, he knows you can’t eat them all. He is always the trash can, his words not yours.

“This cafe is so pretty, Jinyoung.” you blurt out your thoughts, your eyes roaming all over the places. The cafe is situated in the middle of the city which is busy with cars and public transport. However once you are inside, it literally blocks the noisy sound and you’re left with the peacefulness of the cafe and the song that blasts from the speaker. There are not a lot of customers at this time of the day hence it is even more quiet and reserved.

The workers keep the food warm by lighting up candles under the buffet and honestly, it feels just like hotel breakfast.

“You like it?” the background song starts to change, Paramore comes up with a fragment of your memory. “Oh, it’s our love song.”

You laugh when he tries to listen more carefully to Still Into You, bopping his head to the beats and swaying his body while feeling the music.

“I should be over all the butterflies~” he raises his fork to his mouth level, pointing them towards you with overflowing adoration and playfulness in his eyes. “But i’m into you.”

“Oh lord.” still giggling, you are sure that both of you looks like you’re madly in love and have become hopelessly dumb. “How sure are you that after all this time you’re still into me?”

“Easy peasy.” Jinyoung answers, munching the half eaten pancake. “I’m having breakfast with you, the love of my life.”

“At the cafe that you told me when I was reading.” he wiggles his eyes smugly. “Doesn’t that already prove that I am still into you?”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“And you love me for that.”

“Thank you for dining here!” the cashier returns Jinyoung’s card with the bill, bowing to you before you leave the cafe with a full tummy.

The noises from the street greet you again however you don’t care, you are happy and it takes nothing to spoil your mood. Jinyoung leads you back to his place again, holding your hand in his while you skip happily next to him.

“Are you that happy?”

You nod, swinging his hand back and forth to show that you are indeed, very happy. “I had a great night and a great breakfast date. I don’t have anything more to ask for my birthday.”

Placing a quick peck on his cheek, you wrap your arms around him in appreciation. “Thank you, lover boy.”

Jinyoung scrunches his face at your endearment, bringing your intertwined hand and presses a kiss on the back of your hand. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

You shake your head. There’s nothing you really want, Jinyoung has gone even beyond your expectations.

“But I still have one more thing for you.” his words left you puzzled, before you realise that you’re not walking home. Instead you are at the opposite direction of his place, even further than the cafe.

Once you fall into step in front of a bakery shop, another bulb goes off your mind and you turn to Jinyoung in disbelief. “Wait- really?”

In front of the bakery stands the most popular advertisement made by the shop, the macaron class. It is a bakery that makes the most delicious macaron and is very popular with the customized macaron which you can make by yourself by joining the 2 hours class at the shop. It was a waste of time, Jinyoung had once said because he knows both of you have better things to do than making macaron for two hours. You agreed with him, even though you really wanted to join the class. It’s kind of cringe, making a couple macaron but you can’t deny that it is intriguing.

“You said you don’t want to join the class.”

Your eyes start to get watery and before you can even cry, Jinyoung brings you close to his side and presses a kiss on top of your head. “When did I never give you what you’ve wanted? Hm?”

“Now come on. The class is starting in 10 minutes.”

You knew making macaron is quite tedious but you never knew it is this tedious. Forty minutes into whisking the never ending meringue to get a stiff peak, you throw your whisk into the bowl. Jinyoung who is preparing the filling for your macaroon on your left jumps, startled by your action. Once he looks at your undone macaronage, he laughs, patting you softly.

“I’ll whisk it for you.” he then finishes his fillings and puts them into a piping bag and leaves it aside to take over your side of the station. “I have offered to whisk but look at you stubborn baby.”

Your hands are crossed as you watch him whisking the meringue, his muscles contract every time he whisks the blue meringue. His veins start to emerge on his skin, complimenting his muscular body. Something snaps inside you when you see him looking effortlessly hot while doing the most common thing as whisking.

“Sweetheart if you’re done staring, we need to bake the macaron.” he brings you back to reality, nudging you to start doing your work. He is already working on his own meringue and just in ten minutes, he finished his pink batter and already placing the batter into the piping bag next to your.s You never know he can whisk that fast but apparently the baking teacher approves his meringue stiff peak and you can start baking after one hour of preparing.

“Remind me to not ask for any more baking class.” you groan after piping your batter on the parchment paper and wait patiently for it to grow a shell and then it’s ready to bake. Jinyoung, as always, smiles mockingly while he repeats for the n-th time that he only wants to give you what you have wanted. His own batter has dried and ready to bake.

Above everything, you’re the most excited when it comes to decorating the macaron. The blue macarons that you made are for Jinyoung while yours is the pink one that he did. So after the macarons are ready for decoration, you both sit further apart to surprise each other with your own decoration. The shop provides almost everything, different types of toppings and different colour papers for you to DIY your macaron box.

“Do you need more time?” Jinyoung asks after thirty minutes. You are still sticking the cute stickers all over the box when he comes closer to take a look at your decoration.

“Do not come close!” you warn, showing your palm to stop him. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s not that serious-”

“Shut. up.”

“So, who gets to open their box first?” you ask after Jinyoung places a tray of drinks and bread in front of you.

“Me first since we have waited long enough for it to finish.” Jinyoung answers, giving you a judging look. “And we can decide who’s box is the best.”

“Okay!”

You are so excited to see Jinyoung’s reaction. You worked hard to decorate the box with edible stickers, lining your name with his on top of each macarons and finishing it with sprinkles and other toppings. You were also torn to choose which colour compliments his blue macaron the best. You can only hope he loves them because really, as much as you give yourself credits, you are actually the worst when it comes to creativity.

“Oh!” your eyes are closed when he starts unboxing his macaron so when he gasps, you quickly open your eyes and watch the corner of his lips stretched into a wide smile, lips pressed and whiskers eyes showing up. “Oh god.”

Both of you fall into a fit of laughter, knowing how bad your skills are but still, it melts your heart to see Jinyoung appreciating your not-so-creative mind. Jinyoung is a transparent man, his face gives away his emotion. He can hardly mask his emotion when he’s with you, hence you usually are able to detect any slight changes in his mood based on his facial expression.

After staring at his macaron for a while, he looks up to you, offering another smile. “I think my box will win.”

“Is it my turn now?”

“Go ahead.”

You’re beyond excited. You know Jinyoung’s creativity is just like yours, he can never win this competition. Him and you are both helpless in art, so it is like a battle of non-creative decoration rather than the most creative decoration.

Jinyoung watches you intently as you start opening the box, greeted by nothing other than a piece of blue parchment paper as the base, the macarons arranged neatly and an envelope placed together in the box.

“Jinyoung! You literally didn’t decorate it!” you laugh, picking the envelope nonchalantly and opening it without much thought. It must be a piece of card with ‘I love you’ inside it. Like you’ve said, both of you lack of creativity when it comes to art.

However when you unfold the paper, instead of a simple ‘I love you’, a whole neatly written love letter with Jinyoung’s penmanship greets you.

Dear the woman I have loved my entire life,

I am always grateful to God when he gives me you. Do you remember the first time we talked to each other? I was fifteen and you were thirteen, we don’t even know each other that much. We were in the same club but we never talked. It’s just you and me when we both sit at the table in the library and suddenly I called your name and asked if you could pretend to be my girlfriend because of a certain girl that won’t leave me alone and was walking toward us. I know, it’s really cliche and it sounds like it jumped from a novel but you said yes and you don’t mind. After that my boys found out about us and decided to prank us by locking us in a room and we talked for hours. I still remember how you shook your head at my boys’ antics. hahahahaah. I remember I assured you that they will come to let us our after some time and to believe me. Sometimes I think I should thank that girl for bothering me non-stop and the boys because since then, my world has been colourful with you inside it.

Do you remember how we fought a year later over some ridiculous issue like jealousy? We were so immature that we broke up but we ended up together again after Yugyeom told me you were crying in the bathroom because of me? Yeah, I was stupid. But do you know what is ever more stupid? The fact that we broke up every time we were facing a big examination

Do you remember when I got offered a letter to extend my study overseas? You cried again as if you’re not clever enough to land a place overseas too? I remember that we kissed for hours because you couldn’t stop crying and wanted to stay in my arms. You even stole my hoodies and I ended up bringing only three hoodies to my A-Level study because you wanted to wear them. You don’t know how cute you were. Then two years later you got the same acceptance letter like mine and you were so happy that you talked to me for five hours even though it was midnight for you.

Staying together with you in the UK was the best decision I ever made. Do you know how domestic we looked? I wake up to you, snuggling by my side and hugging me tight? You just don’t know how ecstatic I was. We were like a married couple, literally married just without the rings. The adventures I had with you, travelling to every part of the world, I love every inch of them. People wonder how we got this far but I don’t really need to wonder at all. Like how Paramore said, I’m really into you.

For eleven years, you have been by my side, staying with me through thick and thin. You were there for every step I made, whether it’s bad or it’s good. Remember when you were so nervous to meet my parents? Because we both went to boarding school and it was scary for parents to think we were busy dating and not studying. You were shaking from head to toe even when we already finished school and were already studying in university.

It’s getting long and I was just reminiscing the old days right? I should get to my point by now.

I have been celebrating your birthday with you for eleven years and though it sounds too long, it feels too short for me. I want to keep celebrating your birthday with you until we’re grey and old. Let’s grow old together, baby. Let’s lay in each other’s arms and whisper good mornings and good nights every single day. Let’s make your twelfth birthday with me as Mrs Park instead.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and beyond. Let’s get married next year, can we?

Love,

Yours.

As you finish the letter, your cheeks are wet from the tears. You never knew it has been eleven years since you dated each other. You were too content living with Jinyoung that you’ve forgotten time passes too fast and your relationship will turn twelve next year. It makes your heart swell when you know that Jinyoung remembers each life event and almost all of it involves both of you.

When you finally look at him, a gush of tears escapes again. He is holding a ring, a simple promise ring that his mother bought for him after he finished high school. He told you about it, his mom told him to put this on the woman he’s marrying only when he is sure of it. When you asked him why he didn’t want to put it on you, he explained that it’s not that he is not sure of marrying you, but he wanted to secure your future. He wanted a future for you and he will not put the ring on you until he is sure that he is able to provide you everything you deserve.

“When did you plan all of this?” you never saw him busy writing the letter and setting up your birthday plan. You have no idea when he planned these things. “Why are you making me cry, Jinyoung.”

“Am I the best boyfriend now?” he laughs, teasing you slightly. “I planned it when you’re asleep. I also got some help from the boys. Bambam and Yugyeom helped to book the cafe while Jackson helped to sign up for the macaron class.”

You are still overwhelmed by the letter, your tears don’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon. You wanted to scream, to tell everyone how emotional you are. The man that you’ve loved just proposed to you on your birthday. Someone got to tell you what is better than all of these combined?

“Do you want to marry me?” he asks, suddenly not sure of your reaction. You’ve been crying, cupping your face and repeatedly asking him if he’s being serious about the proposal. “Do you want to celebrate your next birthday as Mrs Park instead?”

You stand up and reach over to his side to sit on his lap which catches Jinyoung off guard and his hands fly to hold your waist steadily. You give him no time to adjust when you press a kiss to his lips as a sign of approval.

“I do, Jinyoung.” his grip on your waist tightens, drowning his moan in as to be cautious not to attract people’s attention. “I do.”

Jinyoung then takes your hand, slipping the awaiting ring in his hand right on your ring finger. Like it is meant to be yours, the ring fits perfectly, now a mark that you’re officially Jinyoung’s.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” Jinyoung offers, already packing your macarons and your food. “I need to show you how happy I am.”

[ Writings ]

#the moans writings #got7creators #got7 jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fanfic #got7 jinyoung fluffs #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung got7 #jinyoung got7 fanfic #jinyoung fluffs #jinyoung got7 fluffs #got7 fluff #jinyoung fluff #got7 fic #got7 imagines #jinyoung imagines #birthday fic

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sweetlilpaulie · 4 years

Text

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow.

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him.

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?”

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour.

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched.

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive.

And he’s mine.

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.”

It was then, Paul cleared his throat.

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises.

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard.

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?”

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!”

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet.

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague.

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.”

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead.

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.”

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen.

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?”

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album.

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.”

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice.

Biting my lip, I nodded.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully.

I giggled at his inquisitive look.

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future.

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again.

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine.

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks.

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief.

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized.

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy!

L.M.

#Beatles #John Lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #time traveler

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faofinn · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 4 - “I can’t lose you too” (Alt Prompt 2)

@febuwhump

Part 1 // Part 2

Sheila was working when the call came through, her phone buzzing uselessly in her locker. By the time her break came round, it was a long while later, her battery nearly dead and several missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. Food in the microwave, she perched against the bench and pressed play.

“Sheila? Sheila ‘m sorry. They asked me who I wanted to call an’ -and I didn’t know who else. ‘m really scared and I’m in hospital and you always said I could call.” Her heart sank, fear taking over. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone an’ I couldn’t remember your number. I don’t even know if this is your number still. I fucked up and I’m sorry. You an’ Fred were the best family an’ you did so much for me an-and I’ve done this. I didn’t have time to do anything and then I was here. You were a mum to me, and Fred was the best … best dad I had...I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be alone, Sheila. I know you’re busy and you’ve probably forgotten me and I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

The beep sounded and she didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. It had been a few months since she’d heard from him, and even then it was just a passing text to tell her happy birthday. He was still her child, one of her first fosters, and still family. He sounded in a bad way and she could hear the flurry of activity in the hospital around the panic in his voice. It took no time to make her mind up, briefly telling a colleague she was going before disappearing, her lunch still in the microwave.

She tried Fred on the way, to no avail, leaving him a slightly more composed voicemail than had been left on hers. The hospital was no luck either, stuck on hold until the dialing rang out.

The car was left abandoned in the carpark as she rushed through to the ED, pushing past the queue at the desk. “Hi, sorry, my son was brought in earlier - Jason Hardy - I got a phone call from him.”

“Just a second ma’am, there’s a queue.”

“Yeah, it’ll take two seconds. Jason Hardy. Can you tell me where he is?”

With an irritated sigh, the receptionist tapped away on the computer, face falling slightly. “I’m just going to get a nurse.”

Sheila knew it was bad, she’d heard the panic and desperation in his voice, and seeing the look on the receptionist’s face...it only made it worse.

A nurse arrived to greet Sheila quite quickly, a forced smile on her face. “Sheila Daniels?”

“Is he still alive?”

“He is. He’s in a bad way, but he’s alive. We’re gonna take you through now.”

She followed her through. “How bad is he? I got the phone call…”

“It’s touch and go, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“There was a car accident.”

“No.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We’re doing our best.”

She knew what that meant. “So, no.”

“You know we can’t make any promises. But we’re doing our absolute best to give him the best shot.”

“I’ve been through it before with my other two. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I'm not lying to you, I promise. We're doing our best for him.”

"I don't doubt you are, but I know what it means, when you say that. The look you all have…"

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult situation.”

"He was one of my first fosters." Sheila said quietly. "Stayed with me a long while, and then would come and stay for reprieve occasionally."

“That’s very admirable of you. Foster parents are such a lifeline. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here.” The nurse said, letting herself into the ICU.

"He said he couldn't remember my number. I should have been here."

“You’re here now, that’s what counts. No use dwelling on the ‘should haves’.”

She shook her head. "That doesn't make it better."

“I know it’s difficult, but we can’t change the past. You’re here now, and he’ll appreciate you being here.”

Sheila hesitated. "How bad is he?"

“Critical, but he’s been improving gradually.”

"Surgery?"

“Hopefully later, if he’s stable enough.”

"If."

“With the way things are going, he’ll be in surgery later this afternoon. But it’s the surgeon’s decision when they see him.”

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

“His bed is just down here.” She said, leading her down the ward.

Sheila thanked her again, stood outside Jason's bay. He'd grown since she'd last seen him, a beard growing on his face and his blond hair a mess. She couldn't help but frown; it was parted wrong, and he'd always hated that.

"Jason?" She took his hand. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm here now. I've got you, yeah?"

The nurses gave Sheila as much space as they could, giving her time to sit with her old foster. He was in and out of consciousness, and definitely very, very poorly, but there was no doubt he knew she was there. His obs even improved a little.

She sorted his hair, adjusted the specs on his nose, and then waited. She'd get the occasional response from him as she chatted away, promising him they'd have a room for him to get him back on his feet.

After a while, the surgeon arrived, startled by Sheila in the bay. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think there was family with him.”

"I've not long been here, sorry."

“Well, I'm glad he has someone. I'm Dr Knight, one of the senior surgical registrars on his case. I'm happy to have a chat with you?”

She nodded. "Do you need to go somewhere else? Or can we stay here?"

“No, absolutely fine to stay here.” He said, taking a seat. “Are you his mother?”

"Uh, I guess. I was his foster mum for a long, long time."

“Well, that's good enough in my books. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you've been told already, he's very unwell. We've been trying to get him stable enough for surgery for a while now, I've just come to do some final checks before we make our decision.”

"If you don't take him to surgery, what's the prognosis?"

“Not good, I'm afraid. He had a procedure after he was admitted to control his internal bleeding, but unfortunately it's not worked as well as we'd hoped it would. He's very weak.”

"And if you wait a few days, let him get some strength up?"

“We think it's more likely he'll deteriorate in that time. We have a small window of opportunity here.”

"And this surgery, how...how likely is it to succeed?" She barely dared to ask.

“It's a hail mary, I'm afraid. But it's better than doing nothing. His best shot at recovery.” He reached out to rest a hand on her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I understand this is incredibly difficult to hear. This isn't a decision we're taking lightly. But he's young and he deserves the best possible chance, even if the odds are slim.”

She shook her head. "It isn't fair on him."

“You don't agree with our decision to do this surgery?”

"Oh, no, no. Not that. All of this. He shouldn't be here. He was meant to have his life sorted and be living. Not stuck in limbo." She sniffed, trying to stop the tears.

“Ah. I understand this is upsetting - nobody deserves to be in this situation. We're going to do our absolute best for him. We have been doing our absolute best for him from the start. None of us would be considering this surgery if we didn't believe it was in his best interests.” He handed her a tissue, neatly folded in his pocket. “I know I said we have a window of opportunity, but there's time for you to spend with him now. We're not going to rush in just yet.”

"If he needs it, if it's his best chance, then he should go now though, right? So he can come out sooner, and start to recover?"

“We still have some preparations to do first. I'm just here to assess his condition. He seems to have improved since you've arrived.” He said gently. “We'll take him as soon as we're ready for him. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that you have time to spend with him now.”

She forced a smile. "Thank you. For everything."

“Not a problem. I know how difficult this is. Please don't hesitate to grab the nurses if you need anything at all. Can I get someone to bring you food? Something to drink?”

"No, thank you. I'm okay. I'll just stay with him for the time being."

He nodded. “That's absolutely fine. But we can provide you with food, tea, anything. This is probably harder for you than it is for him.”

"Yeah. He'd tell me off for crying, sorry. It was just a bit of a shock."

“Of course, of course. Don't apologise, please. In your position I'd be a sobbing mess.”

"I've had a bit of practice over the years." She laughed slightly. "Normally always the boys, too."

“Other fosters?”

She nodded. "Quite a few. Some of the scraps they'd get themselves into...I'm just being a pain, don't let me keep you."

“Not a pain in the slightest. I just need to do a few checks, yeah?”

"Go ahead. Don't let me get in the way."

He nodded and stood up, though rested a gentle hand on her shoulder before he moved to check Jason over. Thankfully he had improved, and he was happy they were making the right decision.

“I ought to go now, and make sure things are being sorted. But you're more than welcome to ask the nurses for me, or any of his team. We'd be happy to come down and speak with you again if you need.”

"Thank you." She glanced at him with a small smile before turning back to face Jason. He was her priority.

The surgeon left her alone again, save for the occasional nurse popping in to check on him. She apologised again, in his brief moment of consciousness, smoothing his hair back down. Fred still didn’t answer his phone, leaving her alone, dealing with the mess herself.

They gave Sheila as much time as they could. It wasn't ideal, but she needed all the time she could get. Eventually they had no choice, though, and they had to go ahead with the surgery. They sent in a nurse with a porter, as much as Chris wanted to be there, he couldn't. He had too much to do.

Sheila held her tears in as she said her goodbyes, promising him she’d be there when he came round. She held his hand as long as she could, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she was forced to leave.

“I love you, yeah? It won’t be long and then it’ll be okay. I love you.”

They took him after that, the nurse sending Sheila a sad smile.

The surgery was difficult, and unfortunately it didn't get easier as they went on. He was just too unstable, they couldn't do what they wanted to do. They were thwarted by low blood pressure and arrests looming before the inevitable occurred. They tried and tried, but his body just wasn't strong enough. They had to call it a day, in the end. It wasn't fair to try and keep going when his body had had enough.

It was Fao who called time of death, and so it was him who took the responsibility of speaking to next of kin. He headed out of theatres, heart heavy, and round to the relatives room to find them.

He couldn't help the way his heart dropped when he saw who was sitting waiting. Sheila. He stumbled slightly, pain flaring in his knee, and he forced himself to keep going.

“I'm looking for family of Jason Hardy?” He said, trying his best to stay sounding professional.

Sheila raised her head, she knew that voice, knew that tone. "No."

He cleared his throat. “Would you mind coming with me?”

"Fao this isn't real, he's still okay, right? You just had to stop it early for a different reason."

“I'm sorry. Come with me? We can go somewhere quiet to talk.”

She swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. It was all just a dream. He was fine, he had to be.

He led her into a small, private room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath, and sat down opposite her.

“We did our very best. We made some good progress, but unfortunately he was just too weak. Despite our best efforts to try and stabilise him, he went into cardiac arrest. We tried for some time to resuscitate him, but unfortunately we were,” he paused to clear his throat, “unfortunately we were unsuccessful. He passed away. I'm so sorry.”

She already knew, could tell from the look on his face, the tone in his voice. It was still something else to be told it outright, and worse further that it was her own son telling her. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself to breathe past the lump in her throat.

Fao cleared his throat again. “I know this is difficult to hear, and I'm sorry I don't have better news for you. I assure you that we did everything we could for him.”

"Are you sure it was him?" Her voice cracked.

“I’m sure. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

"You're lying."

“I know this is difficult to process. I promise you, I’ve told you the truth.”

“You’re wrong. You’re lying. You’re wrong.”

“I understand this is hard to hear. If you’d like, you’re welcome to go and see him?”

“You don’t understand.” She frowned at him. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Can you help me understand? I’m willing to explain everything, if that would help?”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“I can assure you, he wasn’t in any pain.”

“But he was.”

“We did our best to keep his pain well managed.”

“He was in pain and terrified.”

Fao swallowed thickly. “My colleagues did our best to reassure him and ensure his pain was well controlled. He was under anaesthesia, I can assure you he wouldn’t have been in pain when he passed.”

“You didn’t hear the voicemail.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. If you want to take the matter further, I can give you the number for the hospital PALS department? But I can assure you we did our best to make him comfortable.”

"You don't mean any of that." She frowned at him. "You're just reading off a script. You don't care."

“I care about every patient I treat.” His voice wobbled. “I did everything I could for him, as did my colleagues.” He forced himself to take another deep breath. “I know I’m not the person you want giving you this news. But I would never do any procedure if I didn’t think it was in the patient’s best interests. I wouldn’t have suggested this option for Jason if I didn’t think he could benefit from it.”

Sheila rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. The wobble in Fao's voice broke her and she reached out for him.

He handed her a tissue. “Here, it’s alright. I know this is hard to hear.” He said, moving closer to her.

She pushed the tissue away, choosing instead to grab onto Fao and pull him close. Her fingers tightened around his scrubs and she buried her face in Fao's shoulder.

Instinctively he held her close, rubbing her back. “It’s alright. I know this is hard, I know. It’s okay.”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

Her legs buckled as she sobbed, the pain completely overtaking her.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He soothed.

She gripped onto him tighter. “I should have been there for him.”

“You were. You were right there with him. Chris and the nurses said the whole time you were there, his obs improved.”

“But he didn’t make it.”

“His odds were slim the minute he came through our doors. We all knew that - he knew that. We gave it our best shot, but…” Fao had to clear his throat again, “but his body told us that he’d had enough. Sometimes despite everything, there’s nothing more we can do.”

She was quiet a moment. “I’m glad it was you.”

“If I’d have known…”

“But I know you’d have done everything.”

“Of course. We all did.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

“Can...Can you stay with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fred wouldn’t answer and I dont know what Finn’s up to.” She sniffed. “They need to know..”

“Do you want me to try Fred?”

Sheila nodded. “Please.”

“Alright. Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?” He offered, digging in his pockets for his phone.

“Just you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He said, finding his phone and quickly calling Fred.

She leant into him, tears still falling and her chest aching. She couldn't quite believe it, he was gone and there was nothing she could do.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” He murmured gently, praying Fred picked up the phone.

The phone rang through, like it had so many times with Sheila. She shook her head as she heard the voicemail, pressing closer to Fao. Deep down, she knew that she should be there for him, not the other way around. He shouldn't be having to tell her that her son was dead.

“I bet he’s left it somewhere.” Fao said, trying to make his tone light. “You know what he’s like. Come on, why don’t we go and get some fresh air? And then I can take you to see Jason when they’re ready.”

"You're still working."

“I’d say I was due a break, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded with a shaky breath. "Okay."

He stood, and offered her his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She took it, gripping him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“God, why are you sorry?”

“You had to work on him.” Her voice cracked and wobbled. “I know that’s hard.”

“I didn’t know him, Mum. I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I know you beat yourself up over these things.”

He hummed. “We all did our best. I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

She bit her lip to stop her sob, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. The grief was overwhelming, stirring up so many more unwanted emotions.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

She shook her head, dropping Fao’s hand in favor of hugging him. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, máthair. Promise.”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Fao made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here. You’re not going to lose me.”

She pulled back to look at him, tears flooding her face. “I can’t lose you. You’re my son.”

Fao pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, yeah?”

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snowdice · 4 years

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Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 8)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 My Master Post

“What the fuck do you mean Virgil is missing?” Remy asked.

“That’s the second thing Logan said to me!” Emile said. “When he heard you died, he sent an agent over to check on Virgil, but there’d been signs of a break in and Virgil was gone. They don’t think he actually got kidnapped though because the car of whoever broke in was still there.”

“Well, then where the hell is my kid?!!” Remy yelled.

Emile flinched at his suddenly loud voice. “Leaping lizards Remy, I don’t know. I thought you did since you’re not actually dead.”

“Well I don’t!”

“Yeah, I’m getting that, calm down for a second.”

“Okay, right now is not a good time to tell me to calm down,” Remy said. “My kid is missing.”

“I know Remy,” Emile said in his professionally soothing voice, “but we have to think in order to do something about that.” Oh, he was thinking. He was thinking really hard right about now. He was thinking about how the person who sent someone to kidnap his son was the woman who’d just tried to have him fucking executed. God, Remy hadn’t even wanted her around his fucking kid when she’d just been a bitch and not an enemy agent out for his blood.

“We should call Logan back,” Emile suggested. “He might have more information.”

“No,” Remy said. “It’s still too risky.”

“Remy.”

“I said no, Emile,” Remy snapped. “What if she has him and intercepts the phone call. She doesn’t have any reason to hurt him right now,” other than the fact that he had quite the mouth on him and would probably piss her off by being a little shit especially if she wouldn’t tell him where Remy was, “but if she knows I’m alive she might.”

“Would she really…?”

“The woman just tried to shoot me with poisoned bullets. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Poison bull-? It’s not important,” Emile said. “If we’re not going to get information from Logan then how are we supposed to even start with finding Virgil?”

“Easy,” Remy said. “The tracker I put on him.”

“I’m sorry you put what on Virgil?” Emile asked.

“A tracker,” Remy said. “It’s in that bracelet he always wears. I don’t really want to go back to the house, but I think I left one of the devices to find him in here in case of emergencies.” He started digging through Emile’s glove box.

“Jiminy Crickets, you can’t just put a tracker on your teenage son Remy!”

“Why not?” Remy asked, still digging through the papers. Did Emile ever get rid of old insurance cards and also how many drive-through napkins did he need to keep?

“It’s an invasion of privacy,” Emile sputtered.

Remy waved him off. “Oh, please. I’m a secret agent, a (usually) off duty one, but still a secret agent. Sometimes I need to know where my kid’s at. Like now. Besides, I told him what it was when I gave it to him, and it lights up when activated. He can just chuck it out a window if he doesn’t want me knowing where he is.”

“Oh, well that’s okay then,” Emile said.

Remy hummed as his hand closed around the phone sized device hidden at the back of the glove box. “Ah, here it is.”

“When exactly did you put that in here.”

“Like two years ago,” Remy said. “Clean your car every once in a while.”

“Remington, I have seen your garage.”

“Maybe, but I never claim to be responsible.”

The thing was out of charge, so he plugged it into the car, and it booted up pretty quickly. Emile leaned over to look at the map that popped up. Remy pushed a couple of buttons to activate the tracker.

A red dot appeared on the map and Remy blinked at it. “Where the fuck?” he asked. He pushed another button and the device beeped, finding Remy’s current location on the map and putting a green dot there. The map had to zoom out quite a bit to fit both dots on the screen. A number appeared at the top of the map. “Shit.”

“Please tell me that’s feet,” Emile groaned.

“How the hell did he manage to get 50 miles away? I’ve been ‘dead’ for less than an hour and a half!”

“Did one of Barbara’s people get to him?”

“I’m not… he’s moving in the wrong direction if that’s the case,” Remy said. “Her house is in town and the secret base I know of is north of here. He’s going south east on the interstate.” He squinted at the map.

“Well then where is he going and how is he going there?” Emile asked.

“I’m not sure, but you need to start driving.” Emile hesitated for a moment. “Now.”

He nodded and put the car in reverse before pulling out of the parking lot and turning toward the interstate.

“Hey, Emile,” Remy said pleasantly after about 2 minutes. “Remember how mother said to not speed unless it was absolutely necessary?” Emile glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s absolutely necessary today.”

Emile gave him a slightly disapproving frown, but the car did speed up.

“So, what about poisoned bullets?” Emile asked.

“I’ve had a long day,” Remy said.

“Nope, no, you’re not getting away with that,” Emile said.

“We’re busy,” Remy tried.

“Assuming he continues to move in the same direction, we have over an hour car ride in front of us. So, talk.”

“You and talking,” Remy mumbled. “Why couldn’t you just be a secretive, suppressed secret agent like everyone else in our family.”

Emile shot him a glare.

“Emmmmmmmyyyyyyy,” Remy whined.

“Remington.”

“Okay… so it may have, sort of been, my idea.”

“Remy.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Please, tell me this is not why you wanted me to watch Virgil tonight,” Emile said.

Oh, yeah… Remy winced.

“Remy, you have to at least tell me if you’re getting me and Virgil involved in this sort of thing. Or better yet, not do that. What was I supposed to do if someone had come to the door to kidnap Virgil? Which they did, by the way!”

Remy shifted in his seat. “To be fair, the plan didn’t exactly go how I expected it to. You were just a precaution in case it took too long. I didn’t expect to ‘die.’ Or at least if she was going to try to kill me I though she’d hesitate more than 0 seconds.”

Emile spared him a glare as he merged onto the interstate.

“Okay, fine, so maybe I should have,” Remy admitted, “but she was up to no good! And I know I’m supposed to still be on desk duty, but I’d heard through the grapevine about her plans and, I mean, I was in the neighborhood. How was I supposed to know she’d see right through my lie about asking for money to buy Virgil a car?”

“Maybe because you’ve never asked the woman for anything, ever, especially in relation to Virgil and Virgil hasn’t even taken drivers ed because he’s still too scared to try to drive after the golf cart incident.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever babe,” Remy brushed him off. “Anyway, we were talking, and I think she maybe got a little pissy that I wasn’t drinking the wine she gave me. It was probably poisoned now that I’m thinkin’ about it. Anyway, she must have finally gotten tired of me and pushed a button. Suddenly a bunch of guards were storming the room and, man, they were definitely the shoot first, ask question types ‘cause they immediately started shooting at me. Luckily I was wearing the light weight bullet proof vest Logan’d gotten me and I dove under her desk and, let me tell you, for how organized she is about her criminal empire and how clean the rest of the house is, she doesn’t clean much under her desk. I think it’s probably ‘cause she doesn’t let any of the maids in there to clean. Honestly, that might be where Janus gets the whole leaving snack wrappers and tissues all over the house. Because gee her desk. And-”

“Remy.”

“Right, so, there I was under her absolutely filthy desk and I look up and she’s standing there staring at me and she just takes out a gun and bang shoots at my head. Luckily it missed, but it ricocheted off her desk and ended up in my calf.”

“You were shot in the calf!”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m fine,” Remy said. “Anyway, those were the poisoned bullets.”

“You got shot with a poisoned bullet?!”

“Yeah, so, luckily it was a poison I got doused with once in Italy in my 20s and if you manage to survive it once, you’re good forever or whatevs, but like, I knew she thought it would kill me so I played dead. So, then after that, she called in Gilbert, you know Gilbert, the butler with the little trapezoid shaped beard? Yeah, so Gilbert comes in and she’s like, “get rid of his body” and he’s like “cool beans” or something to that extent. Anyway, he drags me out’a there, but the thing is Gilbert’s cool or maybe not cool because he’d totally bury my body without flinching, but he’s cool enough not to kill me himself or even run and tattle. So, I go, ‘yeah, not dead,’ and he’s like ‘Kay, but don’t tell her I knew that,’ and I’m like ‘jolly good, mate.’ Then I run off to her office (the secret one, not the one her and the armed guards are in) and steal the flashdrive. I go to get in my car, but she already ordered it to get blown up! I mean, rude, bitch! At least give my body time to cool. So, I end up hiding in the back of the catering company van that had come to get the kitchen ready for the gala she’s throwing later tonight which, I mean really, you’re serving shrimp and salmon, what type of monster are you? You do seafood and steak, not seafood and seafood. Ugh. Why did I ever have sex with her again? Anyway, I ride in the van to town and then bolt out of there before they can see me. Then, I get on a bus because I have a bus token in my wallet, but the bus driver is a bit chatty and this is a covert mission so I tell him my name is Gilbert, since Gilbert the butler was on my mind and that I am visiting my new granddaughter in the states but I’m actually from Quebec and I spoke French to prove it. I was going to get off near the one clothes shop on third, but then we drove by your office and I saw your car so I got off at the corner and picked your lock to get in your car and waited for you to come out because I thought that’d be quicker.”

“You’re doing the thing,” Emile said.

“What thing?” Remy asked flippantly.

“The thing where you use misdirection and slang to attempt to distract people from serious issues.”

Remy slunk down in his seat. “Ah, that thing.” Damn him and his stupid fancy psychology degrees.

“Is your leg okay?”

“Smarts like a bitch, but it was just a graze. I already bandaged it up and disinfected it.”

“Good,” Emile said. “Would you prefer if I yelled at you in chronological or alphabetical order.”

“I’d like to see you try out alphabetical.”

“Well,” Emile started. “First of all…”

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 9

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sweet-villain · 4 years

Text

The Broken Truth *2*

Aaron Taylor Johnson x reader x Sebastian Stan

The point of view changes from reader to Aaron.

Part 1

/—————————————————————————/

Few months passed

Sun peeking through the window of your apartment, fluttering your eyes opened, an arm secured around your waist. Biting your bottom lip, turning over seeing his brown hair, he was breathing steady, chest rising up and down, he looked like an angel sleeping. His hair was a mess, he had a photo shoot last night to go to.

Somehow you found yourself in the arms of Sebastian Stan. He picked you up from the pieces that were torn. You told him about Aaron, that one time and he never brought it up. Too much memories and pain going back there.

Lizzy and you still keep in touch ,she doesn’t talk about Aaron knowing what pain it brings you.

“ Stop staring” Sebastian muttered into the pillow. You giggled, leaning over kissing his nose. “ Your cute when you sleep Seb” He turned on his back having his arm over his eyes.

Kissing his chest, “ I am going to make breakfast.” In the response you got was a groan from him. He must be really tired. Slipping on some slippers you walked through your apartment making your way to your kitchen.

Meanwhile with Aaron, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He repeating the moment you walked away from him. The moment he lost you. He doesn’t get much sleep now a days because you always make an appearance in his mind and dreams.

“ Good Morning Sweetheart” Sam, his wife walked over to him kissing his cheek. He didn’t notice her or talk to her, she doesn’t know what happen between you two. She know he lost you for some reason and it made him become isolated from her and his kids and friends.

“ Aaron, talk to me” She placed her hand on his hand. He removed it standing up as he walked down the halls to get his shoes on. He needed air. Lots of it. He kept thinking about you.

Arms wrapped around your waist as you cooked breakfast, a kiss was placed on your neck.

“ I am trying to make breakfast” Giggling pushing him away. “ Make it later..” Sebastian mumbled into your neck going to your ear skimming his teeth across your ear. He turned off the stove, taking the spatula from your hand as he picked you up.

Squealing he carried you into the bedroom.

His phone rang in his pocket as he sat down on a bench at the park. Groaning, he slipped it out seeing Lizzy was calling him. He didn’t need to hear her right now.

He asked her many times on how you were doing and where you were but she would change the subject. He missed you dearly, looking through his phone. He looked at the album labeled best friends.

It had pictures of you and him, silly faces pictures, laughing and even videos of you and him doing random things with one another. He would play them just to hear your voice or laugh or see that smile on your face.

A tear fell down his cheek as he heard you laugh in one of the videos he had on his phone. Clicking the phone shut, he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat on the bench sobbing into his own hands.

“ Your telling me you walked face first into a pole and not even seeing it?” Chris asked you as you were hanging out with him and Sebastian and Lizzy.

Nodding your head, you shrugged. “ I am a klutz”

“ Your my klutz” Sebastian took a hold of your hand lacing fingers with yours. Lizzy gushed at you two, she saw how happy you were. Finally, she thought. She thought you forgot all about Aaron. But oh no, you didn’t. Sebastian didn’t have your heart like Aaron did.

“ I am going barf if you don’t stop” Chris said. Rolling your eyes, you took a sip of your drink when something caught your eye. It was Aaron’s wife, Sam and his two kids Romy and Wylda. Where was Aaron?

Sliding down your seat, you didn’t want Sam to see you. She knew who you were, Aaron must of told her.

“ What’s happening? Why are you slouching?” Lizzy asked noticing your mood had changed. “ Nothing..” you muttered though your eyes were on her. Lizzy looked to see what were you looking at.

“ Oh” She said before adding, “ Let’s go” The two guys were confused on what was going on. You took Sebastian hand in your as you left.

With a drink in his hand, he took small sips of it savoring the taste not wanting it to be gone so soon.

“ Daddy!” He heard from the front door. He smiled over at his children, Romy and Wylda who rushed to him. Sam walked in, frowning seeing him drinking.

“ Daddy is busy right now” Aaron said as he took another drink. The two rushed off before Sam folded her arms across her chest. “ When are you going to stop this?”

“ Not soon” He took the glass and the bottle in his hands. “ Aaron..” She stopped in his way. “ Sam, move..”

“ Just talk to me, I love you..” She said begging him now wrapping her arms around him kissing him. Pulling away from her, “ I can’t. I’m sorry” She watched him as he left.

One phone call changed you. It was your father calling you that Saturday afternoon.

“ Hello?” You answered. On the other line, you heard sobs. Never in your life you had heard your father crying.

“ Dad? What’s wrong?” You leaned up from the couch you were sitting on with Sebastian having a movie night with him.

“ It’s your mother..” He said. Your heart began to race, fearing the worst. “ What’s wrong with mama?”

“ She-e g-got into a-an accid-dnet and die-ed on i-impact..” He managed to say then sobbing once more. The phone from your grasp slipped onto the floor, our heart sank.

Your mother was gone and you didn’t even say goodbye to her. Sebastian picked up the phone seeing the other line ended the call. You sat there froze in your spot.

“ Doll? What’s wrong?” He put his hand on your shoulder, shaking you slowly turned to him. “ She’s gone..” You said into his shoulder sobbing. His eyebrows inched together as he was confused what’s going on.

“ Who?” You picked your head up look at him. “ My mother” was all you said before you continued to cry. Sebastian wrapped his arms around you rocking you trying to calm you down.

It was the day of your mother’s funeral, everyone was there. Sebastian, Lizzy, Chris, other cast members. Your father was there and other family members. You felt broken and empty. Your mother and you had a close bond. You were a mama’s girl.

She called you her little angel. Now she was taken from you.

As the funeral went on, when it was time to bury her, looking out in the crowd. You saw him.

He was there, standing a far. Aaron, his hair was crazy on his head. He had a beard but his eyes were on you. He was alone standing there. Who invited him? Who told?

Sniffing you watched him as he leaned against his car. Aaron looked at you hearing that your mother had died. He wanted to hug you and tell you to be strong. But couldn’t. You hated him. He broke your heart.

But he was there. His presence made you feel something. Lizzy looked on between the two of you sharing a look. The pain was being unburied, she had to do this for you.

Even if she had to hurt you more than you had ever imagined.

#aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson imagine #imagine aaron taylor johnson #aarontaylorjohnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader x sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader x aaron taylor johnson #sebastian stan

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softbuckismykink · 4 years

Text

The Last Goodbye

So I read that^ and came up with a story and I started writing it... Then when I was about to post I realized opps I read the pronouns wrong... Can’t be bothered to change my story though... so here it is... :)

Not an x-over just borrowing characters from another show. To play Buck’s ex is Clay Spencer from SEAL Team. Now I didn’t watch the show pass like episode ten in season one so I don’t know much about the character or his origin story. I’m just borrowing him cause I can’t be assed to create an O.C. just for a one shot. If you happen to have knowledge of how military/navy works please suspend your disbelief, I did research but honestly it’s just me reading wikipedia so I more than likely have gotten the elements concerning SEAL training and other military stuff wrong. You are warned. Don’t get offended.

Another Warning: This is a Buddie fic but it includes intimate scenes (not sex) between Buck and Clay, if you are a Buddie purist, this is your warning.

X-posted on AO3

Inspired by a tumblr post by @theladyandthewolves (Sorry I forgot to add, I did the linky link thing in AO3 but forgot to add it here)

Summary: In which team finds out Buck has a husband, when said husband turned up out of a blue and asked for a divorce.

********

We were almost beautiful A broken piece of art put on display But we were never possible Another perfect moment thrown away I know somebody out there will love you They'll be the forever we never were 'Cause we were everything that's right at the wrong time

I didn't wanna lose you Leave you with a broken heart But wherever we are, we're miles apart I know that we tried, but this is the last goodbye

Life is going good for Buck. He’s back at 118. His team forgave him and his best friend forgave him, and he’s on his way to forgiving himself. 2019 felt like a sucky year for him with the bombing, recovering from his injuries, the tsunami, the lawsuit, Eddie’s street fighting, Bobby’s being exposed to radiation and weeks of worrying about his found!father dying of either radiation poisoning, aplastic anemia, or some kind of cancer.

Of course there’s no guarantee that 2020 is gonna be better, but Buck likes to feel optimistic about these things. He has to be since it feels like the rest of his found family are the gloom and loom type, so it’s his job to keep the spirits up or they’ll all fall into despair. He said as much to his team as they gather around the side of the fire truck, just having arrived for their shift.

“No seriously look at what happened last year. I got that injury and I was admittedly surly for a while--”

“Oh you were more than surly, Buck.” Hen commented.

“Okay I was, but that’s not my point. My point was I not my usual happy self and you guys were all just affected by it. And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Not everything is about you, Buck.” Eddie said, shaking his head, though clearly amused.

“I’m just saying, I’m on to something here because all bad luck started with me being injured last year. So this year part my new years’s resolution is to generate enough positive energy to drive away all the bad luck you guys attract.”

“Yeah right, we are the trouble magnets,” Hen gestures to herself and the rest of the crew, “not you who’s pretty much in competition with Chim for the Idiot with the Most Death-Defying Experience Award.”

“Of course, I mean Chim is still winning in that,” Buck said smugly, “which pretty much proves my point.”

“Okay, Buck. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Chim shook his head, with a laugh.

The good natured ribbing continued until they all noticed a man standing by the entrance of the station. Dirty blond curls and a full beard, in tight henley and cargo pants, he looked out of place among the clean shaven firefighter crew but he walked inside with so much confidence that you’d think he owned the place.

“Clay what are you doing here?” Buck asked as he walked towards the scruffy looking man.

“Hi, Evan.” The man greeted as he met Buck half way, giving Buck a tight hug and, to the young firefighter’s surprise, a kiss on his cheek. Buck could feel the stares bore onto his back. “Sorry to drop in on you at work but I don’t have you phone number or home address.”

“You mean to tell me that years of working with CIA and you can’t even get my contact info?”

“I work as their muscle Evan, I don’t do the intelligence part.”

“We both know that’s bull, Clay. You speak six languages, you are more than just the muscle.”

“And you basically thought me five of those, though I speak nine now, not all fluently but I get by.”

“And you are still arrogant as ever.” Buck sighed, some things never changed.

“Can we talk privately?” Clay asked when he noticed the peanut gallery behind Buck.

No. Buck thought, he didn’t really want to do this here in the station but it’s only the start of his shift and he can’t really leave so he said, “I can’t leave but we can talk inside, I got a couple minutes so it better be quick.”

***

Buck lead the man to the relative privacy that the locker room provides. It’s all glass enclosure and anyone from outside can see in but he knew his colleagues would know not to bother them or listen in.

The moment they were inside the room, Buck turned his back towards the other man, taking a moment to close the door and gather his thoughts. Fucking Clay Spencer, six years and the man still has the ability to turn his day around, making him feel all out of sorts. Buck took a deep breath before facing his husband.

“Not to be morbid Clay, but I figured after I rang that bell the next time I’ll hear about you was when I get a death notification from a CACO officer.”

“Yeah I thought so too.” Clay admitted with a slight grimace. They were young, only 19 when they got married, but they both thought they’ll be together forever. “I mean I did promise ‘till death do us part. I always thought I’d at least fulfill the death portion of that promise. But I also thought I wouldn’t meet another person I’d want to marry again and I did. Her name’s Stella, she’s a grad student at Hudson State.”

“And now you want a divorce.”

“We were over years ago we just never got around to signing the papers for it. I’m getting married in June so--”

“So what you figure you’d come to my place of work, greet me with a kiss like we last saw each other only this morning, not six years ago and what? Demand that I go sign the divorce papers so you could go on living your merry life?”

“Look Evan, I was an ass. Heck I still am, but I wasn’t the one who left. You did.”

“Let be real, we both know I couldn’t stay.” Buck said, because it was true. DADT was repealed but the prejudice lingers. When the instructors learned that yes Evan Spencer was related to Clay Spencer and no they weren’t brothers or cousins, well let’s just say things get ugly. “I was just holding you back. Being a SEAL was your dream.”

“And there was a time that it was yours too.”

“No, I-” It never was. I did it to be with you is what Buck wanted to say but he knew that’s unfair to both of them so he said instead, “I did it because I don’t know what I want back then. But I what I did figure out is that I was never built for that kind of life, Clay.”

“I know. You were always too soft.” Clay commented. Buck glared which didn’t escape his husband’s notice.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Evan. I’m glad you never went through with the training. Of the two of us, you were always the saint--”

“And you are just digging a deeper hole, Spencer. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“I should, but you know that’s not really my style.”

“You saying it’s mine?” Buck challenged, eager for a fight for some reason, but Clay didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’re putting words into my mouth Evan.” Clay step in closer to him, invading Buck’s personal space. “I never thought any less of you when you quit training. I was actually relieved that you did. You were so determined when you told me you wanted to be a SEAL and I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. So much. Cause I knew it would break you in ways that I never wanted for you, in ways that would take the best part of you that I loved so much. It was why as much as I hate him, I had Dad pull some strings to get you out of your contract and discharged. I didn’t think you’d take that as a cue to walk away.”

“You think I’m fragile, Clay but I’m not.”

“No,” Clay denied, stepping even closer, close enough that Buck could feel the other man’s breath against his cheek as the SEAL look him in the eye and explained, “I treat you like you are fragile, because that’s how you treat something that’s precious. I’ll admit to that. But I know you are strongest person I’ve ever met, Evan. I loved that about you.”

“Then why did you let go?” Buck said, his words are demanding but his tone is all but resigned.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Clay parried back, equally yielding. They both knew the answer to each other’s question, love isn’t enough to keep them together and that’s their reality. That doesn’t negate the magnetic attraction they felt towards each other.

The SEAL stepped even closer, their foreheads within a hair’s breadth of the other, as their lips slowly gravitated towards each other. Buck felt the brush of the other man’s dry lips against his own. The touch is so painfully familiar, but gone was the spark his memories insist had once accompanied such intimate gesture. Still Buck felt nostalgic and he was just about to give in and press back when he heard a knock. They sprung apart and Buck turned to the person at the door. Buck saw his best friend leaning against the doorway arms tight cross against his chest.

“Buck, Cap wants you for the stand-up meeting.” Eddie said tersely informed Buck while glaring at the other man. “Upstairs kitchen. Five minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in two Eds.” Buck nodded with a strained smile. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“I don’t mind but you gotta hurry or Cap would get pissed.” Eddie said before walking away, but not without directing one last glare at Buck’s visitor.

“Did he just call you, Buck?” Clay asked as soon as Eddie left the room. “You change your surname back to Buckley? Since when?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but about two years ago after the DOD finally let me back stateside, before I started at the fire Academy. Just for work and my direct deposit bank, for now. I never got around to doing it for anything else. I guess I have to now.”

“You don’t have to. No law requires it of you.” Clay made to close the gap between them again only for Buck to step back. “It would be an unnecessary hassle.”

“You are getting married, Clay. To another person. You don’t get to act possessive and ask me to keep a name I’m half way to dropping.” Buck shook his head, clearly Clay hadn’t change a bit, still one with the need possessively attach his name to everything. The sound of a ladder truck returning reminded Buck of the meeting he was called to, “Look I really need to get going. Give me your phone.”

“Evan I-” Clay started but at the firefighter’s impatient glare, he reluctantly hands over his phone. Buck quickly typed in his contact information.

“There you have my contact number.” Buck handed the phone back and turned to leave, saying over his shoulders, “I also put in my mailing address, so you know where to send in the divorce paper.”

“Wait, Evan--” Clay called after him, most likely noticing that Buck never put in his home address. “This is a P.O. box.”

“Where I get my mails delivered to and I know you know how that works.” Buck walked away before the other man could launch another protest.

***

“So Buck who’s the hunk of meat?” Hen asked as soon as Buck reached the landing of the upstairs loft where the kitchen is located. His crew gathered around the kitchen island where Bobby was preparing breakfast, not at all looking like they are about to have any kind of job related meeting.

“I thought we were doing stand-up meeting?”

“No that was just Eddie here letting out the green eyed mons--Ouch!” Chimney’s explanation was interrupted by Hen elbowing him in the sternum.

“You look like you needed a save so I intervened, I didn’t know I’d be interrupting something.” Eddie remarked, a touch snidely.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. Clay was just um, saying goodbye.”

“I didn’t know friends say goodbye with a kiss.”

“Clay’s not exactly my friend.”

“Well, he’s not family not with that kiss. What is he an ex-fling? A phase? Is that why he calls you Evan?” Eddie asked eyebrows raised and suspicious.

“Yeah I wondered about that too, we thought you said everyone just call you Buck.” Chim said, scratching his head, “I mean even your sister calls you Buck.”

“Not exactly an ex. And he’s not a phase!” Buck protested, offended at the word phase. At the surprised looks that his friends are giving him for his unusual outburst, he mellowed, shrugged and said, “I mean Clay is Clay. He always called me Evan. Ever since high school.”

“Why?”

“Um, Clay didn’t like that the name Buck is short for Buckley. Some sort of caveman reason I guessed.”

“Okay so the guy is more than a fling then?” Eddie prodded, not letting the topic die like Buck had silently asking him too, with his pointed looks. So much for best friend telepathy.

Buck sighed, resigned to admitting something he has been mum about ever since starting at 118. “Clay Spencer is my husband, or rather my soon to be ex-husband, he’s filing for divorce so.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in and

“Wait, what the fuck?! You were married?! And you didn’t tell us?!” Eddie asked sounding a little furious.

“To a man?!” Chim added, confounded and unable to think.

“And now you’re getting a divorce?” Bobby said calmly but the twitch of his eyebrow and the way he straightened up clearly betrayed his surprise.

“Wow my gaydar’s needs readjustment,” Hen shook her head, frowning. “I just thought you were hetero-flexible not full-on freewheeling.”

His team spoke one after another, all shocked at his revelation which granted was a little unexpected coming from him, a reformed self-diagnosed sex addict who’s afraid of commitment.

“So what happened?” Hen asked being the first one to recover from the shock of Buck’s surprising revelation.

“Between Clay and I?” Buck asked then continued at Hen’s nod, “Well we were together since freshman year, in high school. Um- we bonded over having absent fathers. I thought we’d be together forever but Clay also wanted to join the Navy like his Dad, so we’ve always kept our relationship low key-ish until DADT got repealed. After that, we said fuck it, and got married. My dad got so mad when he found out, which was more because we were only nineteen back then, not because it was so gay which didn’t help of course but yes more because we were just kids when we got married,” Buck explained trying for casual, as he sat himself in the couch. “Anyways Clay enlisted and got into SEAL pipeline program. I got in a year after him, but I had to quit, we separated, the rest they say is history.”

“So that’s why two you broke-up? Because you quit SEAL training?” Bobby asked leaning on the railing across the couch Buck was seated at. Besides the captain is his best friend, Eddie, who has a blank look on his face that Buck couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Um he wanted to be a SEAL and I knew I was just holding him back so...” Buck trailed off, noticing how his team look at him with pity in their eyes, “Shit guys don’t look at me that way I’m not some broken piece of glass okay?”

When the pitying looks continued, and Bobby moved as if to comfort him, Buck said, “No, seriously guys, I’m okay. I’m not at all broken up about this at all, so you guys shouldn’t be either. Me and Clay were done years ago. It’s just we got lazy and didn’t get around to signing papers until now.”

“You don’t have to put on front with us, kid.” Chim said moving on to sit in the couch beside his while Hen moved to sit beside him. “We are family, heck you are practically my brother.”

“Chim’s right, Buckaroo. It’s okay to be not okay. We won’t think any less of you if you for it.” Hen added, laying a comforting hand on his shoulders.

“I’m seriously fine. I mean I’m not gonna lie and say it never affected me or that it didn’t hurt. Because I did, years ago when first broke up, cause I really thought we were forever. But now? I’m not even sad or anything.”

“But if you are, you know that we are here for you, right?”

“I know that Bobby. And I appreciate it.” There was a prolonged silence that lingered for a couple of minutes as they all just looking for words to say. Eventually Chimney, as always, broke that silence with a joking remark.

“Okay but seriously how did you land some one that hot?” Chim teased Buck.

“Chim seriously?! Your bi is showing.” Hen smirked.

“What? I’m just saying that is one beast of a man. I’m just wondering what he saw in our Buck.”

“Hey, quit it hobbit,” Hen slapped her best friend in the arm, “Our Buck here is equally as beastly looking if not more.”

“Hen, not that I don’t appreciate the vote of confidence because I truly do, but I don’t think ‘beastly’ is a look I aspire to project you know.”

“Joking aside, did you really go through SEAL training? Did you mean like BUD/s?” Chim asked, curious about Buck’s past but knowing the younger man would rather not talk about his soon-to-be ex-husband. At Buck’s nod Chimney asked again, “Isn’t that only for Enlisted Navy?”

“You said you weren’t in the Navy.” Bobby added, confused.

“I wasn’t, I mean not really. I mean technically I was one but only for like less than 180 days? Which meant I got like an ELS.” Buck tried explaining, only garnering more confused looks. “Entry-Level Separation. I entered the program through SEAL Challenge Contract. I got through ‘Hell Week’ at BUD/s but I DOR’d a week after that. So it was like only give or take 155 days before I DOR’d. Which was why I don’t claim to be in the Navy because I barely was in it.”

“DOR?” Hen asked.

“Dropped on request. Clay I guessed heard about it when he was in SQT,” Buck started but had to clarify again, “er SEAL qualification training. Anyways, the instructors were about to shuffle me into the fleet as an enlisted sailor, which is usually what happens when a SEAL candidate drops out. But suddenly I got an offer that the brass would waive my Navy Enlistment contract if I would agree to work as a civilian linguistic analyst attached to a joint operation between the DOD and DEA that’s based in Chile. It was an unusual offer but I figured Clay’s father who’s a retired SEAL pulled some strings. I took the offer and spent four years bouncing around between bases in South America doing translation work.”

“Wait you said you bartender’d in South America, not Schneider’d you way through it.”

“What’s Schneider’d? And when did I say that?”

“Cocaine Wars,” Bobby said as if that alone explains it but of course Evan ‘as far as I’m concerned the world started when I was born’ Buckley didn’t get that reference, so Bobby had to explain further, “Schneider is the name of the actor who is an undercover DEA agent working in South America. And you told me when you were pulling that worm out of that guy who ate a lot of sushi.”

“I wasn’t an undercover agent, I only did translation work in a black site in South America but can’t actually say that in front of strangers so I said the first appropriate thing that came to mind.”

“Bartending is the first thing that came to mind?”

“Well no not the very first thing... um stripping was actually but that seemed inappropriate too?” Buck said, scratching his head. At the incredulous looks he is getting from his team he defended, “What?! Bartending is believable job I could have been doing. I mean Bobby did believe it.”

“That’s not what--” Chim wanted to explain but was interrupted by the sound of the alarms going off.

****

“You were awfully quiet after me telling you guys about Clay.” Buck said as soon as him and Eddie were left alone in the locker room. “You barely talked to me all day too. Is there a problem?”

“No.” Eddie replied, abrupt and clearly not wanting to talk about it but at seeing Buck’s pleading gaze, he relented, “Okay I admit I was a little upset because I thought by now we told each other everything. But then I get a slap in the face and realize I don’t know you at all. I mean I didn’t even tell me you were married. Or that you ex-husband is a slimy squid.”

“I’m still technically married. And I believe military term is frogmen not squid.”

“Well maybe in the Navy, in the Army they are slimy squids.” Eddie huffed. “Seriously though, Buck. Why didn’t you tell me? I mean we talked about our exes before. You told me about Abby. You know about Shannon. Heck I even told you about Alex from boot camp. So I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t tell me about your ex-husband Clay.”

“It’s for the same reason you didn’t talk about your ex-wife back when I first asked you.”

“You asked me that before we got really close. And she’s not my ex-wife, she was my wife. There’s a difference.”

“Exactly, she wasn’t your ex-wife. Just like Clay isn’t my ex-husband. I didn’t talk about him like he is my ex because he isn’t.”

“You were separated, you said you didn’t see each other for six years.”

“I know that. I know in my head we are over and truly broken up,” Buck said while gesturing to his head then he laid his hand on his chest, “But here. Well here it’s stupid, because here there’s hope. So I didn’t talk about him like he’s my ex because then it would be like admitting that it’s truly over, no takebacksies over. I was over Clay but I guess I hadn’t reach that point where my heart’s willing to acknowledge it.”

“You dated a lot after him though, that’s like more than acknowledging it. That’s moving on.”

“It’s adapting a coping mechanism. An unhealthy one at that. I had a long list of one night stands because felt rejected and needed validation. Plus I like having sex but I was determined not to let anyone in again. Then I met Abby, who made me realize I crave intimacy not sex, she made me feel safe to love again, but she left before I could commit to loving her. Which was fortunate cause I don’t know how would get over it if she left me after I learned to love her.”

“I don’t think loving someone could be learned, Buck. Either you do, or you don’t.”

“Maybe so. But my point was I didn’t talk about him cause I thought I wasn’t over him yet. And I would have when I’m ready. I didn’t know when I just knew that talking about him before that would be like--”

“Like poking an open wound.”

“Yes exactly like that.” Buck picked up that metaphor and expounded on it. “What I didn’t realize was that wound long scabbed over. And I left it thinking that if I picked on it, it would bleed again. Only to find out today that it’s all healed.”

“What was the kiss then?”

“The what?”

“The kiss I interrupted Buck.”

“I’m not sure but it felt like a goodbye.”

“I’m not an expert, Buck, but when he kissed you it looked more than just goodbye.” If Buck didn’t know better, he’d say Eddie sounded jealous as he said, “He’s all over you.”

“He isn’t. He kissed me but I’m telling you now, that kiss doesn’t feel like it meant anything to him. Or me. It’s not like what you think.”

“If you say so.” Eddie looked to Buck tryin g to see the truth in his eyes.

“I say so.” Buck said determined as held the other man’s gaze for a few moments, before looking away and shyly admitting, “Besides there is someone else I like.”

The words linger in the air between them as their eyes locked on to each other’s yet again; and slowly they gravitated towards each other without either knowing it. Their foreheads touched, nose brushing. The moment their lips brush, Buck felt the tingle in up his spine making him slightly weak in the knees. He held on to the older man’s waist to help himself stay upright. Eddie lifted his hand to caress the back of Buck’s head as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Buck can’t help the moan the escaped his lips. And Eddie took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue and explore the younger man’s mouth. If it was up to Eddie it would have gone further further but Buck pulled away.

“I’m not--” Buck shook his head, trying to clear it from the haze. “I like you but you were just widowed, and I still need to get divorced.”

“Okay, but just so you know this,” Eddie said gesturing at the air between them, “this is gonna happen. I’ll be asking you out as soon as you drop the name Spencer.”

“Not if I asked you first.”

“Fair enough. As long as I get to eventually marry you, that’s fine.”

“Sure as long as you don’t expect me to take your name.”

“Maybe I’ll take yours instead. Edmundo Buckley has a nice ring to it don’t you think.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Buck managed to spat out with a straight face. They both look at each other in the eye before laughing out loud at the name.

Fuck Edmundo Buckley sounds ridiculous, maybe just this once Buck would take one for the team and take Eddie’s name anyway. Evan Diaz after all sounded way better.

#Buddie

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

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Chapter Thirteen | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Fourteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

What Susan had meant was mounting horses and running around the range. If it was all about tracking, then it shouldn't matter whether it was the target or the shooter that was moving. Right?

Once again, Rosemary was clearly more experienced with riding horses than the Pevensie girls so she spent the first hour simply helping them learn how to ride without their weapons.

When they'd finally called it quits for the day hours later, the sun was halfway through its descent. After returning the horses, the girls headed back to the outside of the camp where the shooting range was. There, Edmund and Peter were galloping through the large boulders and tall grass.

"Come on, Ed! Swordpoint up - like Oreius showed us."

They disappeared behind rocks and hills before reappearing somewhere else. The girls climbed on top of a large rock where they would be out of the way and cheered the two boys on.

"On garde!"

"Now block!"

Enchanted by the sight, the girls leaned forward with big smiles and watched the two boys spar, their swords clanging.

"Peter, Edmund!" Beaver appeared from the direction of the camp, standing up on his back paws. "The Witch has demanded a meeting with Aslan."

"What?!" Rosemary gasped, jumping down off of the boulder. "Why?"

"I don't know, but she's on her way here."

•

By the time the Witch's minions appeared at the edge of the camp, everyone had already assembled at the main pathway and watched silently and angrily as she was carried to Aslan's tent on a portable throne by four ogres.

A dwarf with a knotted beard and heavy fur coat walked ahead. "Jadis, the Queen of Narnia. Empress of the Lone Islands!"

"You can't be queen and empress but whatever," Rosemary uttered from between Peter and Edmund who snickered.

"Don't tell her that. She'll have your head."

Rosemary swallowed and looked back at the Witch, having never seen her before. She was very pale with long bleach blonde hair styled in dreadlocks that had been pulled up into a bun. She seemed extremely skinny, her cheekbones and elbows on the verge of breaking through her skin. A small crown of ice rested on her head. Her dress was extravagant, long, and thick. Rosemary was sure she must have been hot, even though it had short sleeves. Her wardrobe was clearly made for the cold.

People in the crowd heckled the Witch and Rosemary wanted nothing more than to join in with them. But unlike them, she was still scared of the Witch.

From the end of the aisle, Aslan growled lowly. Even he couldn't hold back his hatred for the Witch. As the Witch stood, everyone quieted down and Rosemary inched further back behind Peter. Noticing this, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly.

Hidden behind Peter, the Witch didn't have a good view of Rosemary but she could see the Witch in full. She could tell the Witch wasn't comfortable - perhaps not scared but definitely not fully in control. She wasn't in familiar territory and she was greatly outnumbered. If anything went wrong, the Witch knew she would lose within minutes. Nonetheless, the Witch made sure to keep her chin up.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

"His offense was not against you."

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?"

Aslan growled. "Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written."

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me." The Witch looked over at Edmund. Her smile was one of pure evil. "His blood is my property."

Peter stepped in front of Edmund, raising his sword. "Try and take him then." He just got Edmund back and wouldn't lose him without a fight.

Jadis chuckled. "Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little King?"

With a burst of courage, Rosemary stepped forward. "You just acknowledged that he is meant to be King. Doubting yourself, are we?"

The smile on Jadis' face dropped at Rosemary's taunting words. Wanting to return to being in control and debuting her power, she turned back to Aslan as Rosemary pulled Peter back into the crowd.

"Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water." Pointing at Edmund, she yelled, "That boy will die on the Stone Table as is tradition."

•

Rosemary had been sitting on the grass for close to an hour now, playing with the end of her braid. Aslan had demanded he speak alone with the Witch in his tent and no sound had been made since.

"Maybe I should just sacrifice myself," Edmund sighed. "So nobody else has to die."

"He won't let you die, Edmund," Susan assured. "He's so sure of the prophecy he wouldn't let us come so close to fulfilling it only for it to be ruined."

"Thanks, Su," Edmund smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. They waited for another thirty minutes in silence before the tent flaps finally rustled and the White Witch stepped out. She stared Edmund down before turning away and walking back to her carrier wordlessly.

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."

Rosemary smiled, hugging Edmund first but she was soon trapped in the middle of a large group hug. She could hear Susan's relieved breath and Peter's laugh in her ears.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?" Jadis asked, turning to face the Lion.

Aslan released a threatening roar that knocked the Witch back into her traveling throne. Rosemary laughed and cheered, hugging her group of friends. It was about time someone put the Witch in her place. As the Witch was carried away, the cheers only got louder, but Rosemary could still hear Aslan when he called her name.

"Could I speak with you for a moment?"

Rosemary separated herself from the celebrating crowd and walked beside Aslan up the hill. It seemed it was his favourite spot. Celebrations moved to the campfire and Rosemary could see the four Pevensie children being lifted into the air, their laughter carrying up to Rosemary and Aslan.

"Do you know why you are here, Rosemary?"

Rosemary chuckled under her breath, "I've been trying to figure that out since I got here. Hate to admit I haven't had much luck."

Aslan sat down, looking out over Narnia. "You are here because you are important, Rosemary. Not like how the Pevensie children are important. Narnia needs them whereas you need Narnia."

"I don't understand."

"You know that Narnia called the Pevensies from England because it was time the prophecy was fulfilled. They were needed. You are special. You are here because Narnia believed it wasn't your time to die."

"Oh," Rosemary looked down, fiddling with her fingers. "How do you know about that?"

"I am entwined with the Deep Magic. It tells me what it wants to tell me."

"You're like the man behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz. So Narnia didn't want me to die - for whatever reason. But why would it call me here?"

"Because only the best of us deserve a second chance."

Tears welled in Rosemary's eyes and she let them fall, knowing no one would see them from up on the hill. "I wanted to die, Aslan. And yet something always stops that from happening. Why couldn't Narnia just let me die?"

"Perhaps because it isn't your time to die."

"Isn't it my right to decide when to end my life?"

"It is, but the Deep Magic has a stronger hold on its inhabitants here in Narnia which is why you haven't tried to end your life since you got here."

"I was willing to sacrifice myself, though."

"Sacrifice is different than suicide. Tell me, do you still want to end your life?"

"Isn't Narnia's Deep Magic changing my mind?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. It doesn't change your mind, it is simply trying to stop you from carrying out the action."

"Oh, um," Rosemary squinted as she took a moment to think. Every sense seemed to heighten as she breathed deeply and looked around. The light of the moon seemed stronger, the grass felt softer, and the laughter of the Narnians by the fire seemed louder. She thought about her journey to Aslan's camp - Mrs. Beaver taking care of her, bonding with Susan during the boring parts of the journey, and Peter helping her across the melting river. "I...I don't know anymore."

"These people have changed your mind?"

"When the war began, everything seemed to fall apart. My father and brother left to fight and now Daniel's missing, and my mother drinks all the time and ignores me. I just couldn't live with that anymore - the war and being so alone. But the Pevensies and the people here - they're fighting through war too so I wonder what makes me different. You guys here have lived under the reign of the White Witch for a hundred years and I can't even last five months!"

"No two people are alike, Rosemary. You struggle with the absence of your family because you miss them. Your mindset is understandable."

"But you still don't agree with it."

Aslan avoided answering. "Have the rings on your necklace separated yet?"

"What? Oh. No." Rosemary pulled the necklace out from underneath her dress, taken off guard by the sudden change of topic. "I think Santa Claus made a mistake."

"He didn't. Give it time. You are changing as a person - growing. Perhaps you just need to grow a little more."

"I just want to be happy," Rosemary cried softly. She began to sob again, hiding her mouth behind her hands.

"I know it's hard but things will look up soon. Try to hold on a little longer."

"What happens when I return to England."

"I'm afraid I don't have the answer to that."

"What about your promise to the Witch? What did you promise her?"

Aslan sighed and lay down beside Rosemary, his mane brushing against her side. "I suppose I can tell you - it would be nice to get it off of my chest. But you can't tell anyone, Rosemary. Not the Pevensies and certainly not Peter."

"I promise. But why specifically not Peter?"

"Because his grief needs to be real."

"Grief? Aslan, what did you promise her?"

[Chapter Fourteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #william moseley #peter pevensie x oc #peter pevensie x fem!oc #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie fanfiction #love #romance #adventure #fantasy

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 39

Last time: The Blondes finally met back up with the Brunettes, Yoki was an idiot who tried to burgle the Leto-damned ARMSTRONGS, and Scar either kidnapped or “kidnapped” Winry. Onwards!

New Intro! We’ve got the two young brothers separated by wind, then the title drawn in sand before it’s white text with a glowing red TC and the brothers running in opposite directions. Are we going to have a Party Split? Nevermind, they just slowed down to the middle of the screen. Bright light, Ed should have brought a hat to this sunny bunch of rocks. Then he looks off all dramatic like as camera goes to Al trudging through a desert before he too does the Dramatic Protagonist Stare. Both brothers back to back against the Xerxes mural ok seriously betting on a Party Split here with all the opposite directions going on. Now the Elric Brothers are running at each other and yep just phased through to become Red (Ed) and Blue (Al). Looking around for each other? Whatever happens I guess Al is with May since he has Shao on his shoulder and her gripping his hand, Ed’s got Winry in unzippered gear on his side. Camera pans out to show Al with May, Scar, and Marcoh to the left, Al, Winry, and Granny Rockbell to the right. Then a bunch more people start popping up? Can’t tell who is on which team anymore. Short image of Al’s Body in the whitespace, becomes a Stone which shatters to show a smug-looking Pride. Now Ed’s running about striking shadow blades in a forest (Ed vs Pride fight?), Al’s in the rocky desert fighting more toothy Pride blades. Wrath in what looks like a basic longsleeve shirt and vest (no uniform?) fighting LING YES TURN AGAINST THE GOTHS MY GREEDY LITTLE PRINCE Envy’s in Titan form getting sliced up by YES BRING BACK BADASS NINJA BODYGUARDS. Now it’s Armstrong The Great looking serious, Sloth burst out from snow to be used as target practice by Sideburns and a bunch of tanks but Kimblee swoops in and blows the shells up. Beard’s walking along with his briefcase frowning towards Central in the distance. Ed and Al stand back to back in a TC in the desert (not as rocky as the one Ed was in, but not as sandy as the one Al was in), shot of the Door of Truth opening and shattering, ends on the Alchemist Watch covered by the title and silhouettes of the Elric Brothers. Back where we left off: It’s a cloudy and windy day in Baschool, where Scar is carrying Winry’s limp form and glaring down at Kimblee. The Ishvalan comments on how they’ve changed positions from the last time they met, the Alchemist says he shouldn’t be so confident. Episode 39 - “Daydream” Oh no Winry’s in trouble so Ed is grabbing Kimblee’s coat and yelling at him for letting his mechanic get captured, Kimblee tells him to move aside while pulling off his gloves (hey, he’s kinda Roy’s opposite in that regard), Ed blocks his arms so that he won’t hurt Winry by attacking Scar. The Ishvalan then shatters the building, creating a nice big dust cloud to walk away in. Kimblee’s about to chase after him but a mustached soldier says that it’s too dangerous to go close to the damaged building, they need to fall back. Oh, and there’s a snowstorm incoming so they have to find shelter! Man, it has just not been Kimblee’s day, has it? Ed, Sideburns, Al and some soldiers are walking along, Miles compliments Ed on his performance aha, called it! Ross Deception! Ed’s not happy about having to play along with the “stupid charade”, though. Flashback! Scar isn’t apologizing for the death of Winry’s parents. She has every right to pass judgement on him. Winry… walks away, reaches into a box, and pulls out some cloth. Oh, wow. It it wasn’t already clear, Winry is Best Girl. Bandaging an injury on her parent’s killer? Ed and Scar are equally shocked at her compassion and what. What is that face. I’m sorry, this is a sweet and touching moment and all, but Scar? What is going on with your face here?

That is quite possibly the best Does Not Compute face I’ve ever seen. Just, Scar has no idea how to process this. Winry’s saying that if her parents saved his life before, then there must have been a reason. But like Leto does this mean that she’s forgiven him for his murders. She’s not gonna cry though, she promised… wait, I thought it was Ed who promised that the next time she cried it would be tears of joy? Ah whatever. Ok, you’ve got Scar bound up. Angry boyfriend proclamations aside, time to make him decipher the book NO DON’T CALL HEADQUARTERS YOU IDIOTS. Aaaargh. Wait Scar’s asking Sideburns what he meant by “one of your people”, can’t understand how an Ishvalan could stomach being part of the Amestrian military. Sideburns responds that he’s working on the inside to change Amestrian views of Ishvalans, Scar is shocked at such an idea, and that it was an Amestrian that set Sideburns on the path. Scar can only look down. [Scar]: “Look at me. I am a festering wound of hatred born of the Ishvalan War. I am thankful that there is someone like you out there.” Aaargh but just as Scar is realizing that maybe wanton murder isn’t the way to go about things the call goes through, and Kimblee is on his way to “deal” with Scar. This drives Marcoh and May to reveal themselves. Finally! Oh, and now May can patch up Scar’s arm! Outside the Mustached Mook is noting the stormy clouds, Kimblee tells them to hurry up (gee, I wonder if he’ll get there in time?). Marcoh and May are yes thank you for Leto’s sake it took long enough they’re saying that they’ve got groundbreaking Alchemy/Alkahestry research but the only one who can read it is Scar. Sideburns notes that May is the Alkahestry girl they’ve been searching for as well, says that she needs to come back with them to Fort Briggs. Add in that Scar’s needed to read the notes and it’d be just as bad for Marcoh to be recaptured, looks like all three need to go back to the Fort. Ed’s just a mite unhappy with needing Scar’s help, Sideburns knocks him upside the head with the fact that the Goths are pulling some sort of giant TC shenanigans, they need all the info and help they can get right now. Ed stands down after the suggestion that with Scar’s help they can disgrace Kimblee and get Winry away from his clutches. One Ishvalan Oath later Scar’s judgement is postponed… and the Chimeras are waking up, uh oh. The kids balk at Sideburns’ orders to kill them, the Chimeras sadly agree with Sideburns, saying that they can never go back to their old lives. Al tries reasoning with them, appealing to their families but they’ve been told they’re dead. And it’s not like they can go back like this, we’d just be imitating the 2005 Fantastic Four, and nobody wants that.

But Al does get them to yell that “of course they want their old bodies back”, when they quite reasonably say that it can never happen Al does the helmet remove to show his Soul Armor state. [Al]: “Well I’m going back. No matter how long it takes. I’m not giving up.” Ooh, is Al getting some followers? Watch him form an army out of Chimeras tossed aside by the Goths, take them down with their own creations. Unfortunately the snowstorm’s coming in, meaning that they can’t reach the Fort until it passes. And Kimblee’s on his way, so they need a plan- [Yoki]: “This is a mining town, isn’t it? Why don’t we just go into the underground tunnels?” [Everyone]: *turns in surprise to the secret tactical genius in their midst* [Yoki]: “W-what’s wrong? I mean, this is a pretty large mine, right? So surely there’s a tunnel that can take us beyond the mountains, uh… I think?” [Everyone]: “That’s it!” [Yoki, Tactical Genius]: “H-hey, give me some credit; this is what I did for a living!” Ha! Way to finally pull your weight, you C-tier flashback antagonist! Confirming that the tunnels go past the mountains- wait. Wait wait wait. Isn’t the whole point of the mountains that they are between Amestris and Drachma? Ooh, do we finally get to see another country?! Please let my dream of missionary Drachma’s with Leto pamphlets be a reality! Sideburns gives Marcoh notes for any Briggs soldiers the meet after the tunnel (watch them run into Drachmans first and cause all sorts of problems: “These people have notes written in Amestrian! They must be spies from Fort Briggs!”). But what about Winry? If she just up and vanishes with them then Kimblee will suspect the Elrics of foul play! [Winry]: “Um, I hate to be the one to suggest this, but, uh… What do you think Kimblee would do if I was suddenly taken hostage by Scar?” Whoa, so kidnapped!Winry was Winry’s idea? Props to you, mechanic! Mid-ep pictures of Winry Rockbell and human Jerso/Toad and Zampano/Boar. Ed and Al are understandably uneasy with the plan, but Winry shouts them down about being able to at least choose her captor if she’s a hostage either way. Come on Protagonists, learn that you don’t have to or can do everything by yourselves! Scar again promises to protect Winry before Ed lets him loose, when the Chimeras as to be taken along as well. They’ve failed which means Kimblee’s going to kill them either way… [Boar]: “Besides, we don’t want to give up either.” Look at you go Alphonse, already with your two inhuman followers! Also, they’re just a little confused and upset about all this talk of this band of misfits trying to stop some catastrophe that threatens their families along with all of Amestris. Y’know, just a minor detail. Kimblee’s inbound, better hurry. Sideburns asks wait what they’re back to human? Uh ok, with all the talk about being monsters I was kinda assuming that their beast forms were permanent, not something that they could consciously deactivate. Kinda undercuts the whole “we want our human bodies back” if they can shapeshift back like this. The groups are splitting up (to my surprise it’s not the Elric Brothers who are going different ways, at least for now), a soldier remarks that Winry needs to remove her earrings ok what. Seriously, what? This just totally broke my immersion, you cannot tell me that now is the moment when having metal earrings in the frozen north would cause discomfort and haven’t been an issue yet, especially when she came up north specifically because her boyfriend’s metal arm was seizing up. But whatever, she gives them to Ed for safekeeping before promising to see him back at the Fort. Ed gazes up after her, clenching his fist and probably crushing those precious earrings that he was just trusted with. Nice going, kiddo. Explosion! Acting! Snowstorm! Those left in Baschool are sheltering in a building, alternately looking at girlfriend’s jewelry, wondering where their fellow Chimeras have gone, and arguing for planning the next leg of the search. Then Sideburns gets a call from the Fort? Ooooooooh, right. There was that whole “forces from Central showing up to look for Raven” thing going on last time. And our guys are walking right into that mess. Whoops. Down in the tunnel Marcoh’s going on and on about how the Rockbell Doctors were widely respected during the Ishvalan War, how they helped all without regard for themselves. Meanwhile Scar’s walking in the back having flashbacks to Winry’s “I don’t forgive your wanton murdering”, an Ishvalan Elder telling Scar that while he should never forgive the Military’s “wanton murder” that he must abide it-

-to break the chain of hatred, and his brother saying he studies Alchemy to replace hatred with understanding. And here is Scar, following the orders of an Ishvalan who willingly works in the Military to change it, representing the ideals of Scar’s brother and Elders. So what does that make him? Yoki’s having the group stop in an underground office, to pick up a more detailed map of the tunnels. Man, who’d have thought that freaking Yoki would be the most useful party member at this point. Or ever? Inspired by Al, Toad and Boar are pestering Marcoh about any clues in the journal (that he can’t read), they banter with each other about their families. Aw, they’re actually friends! Nice to show that even the Central forces have loved ones, hopefully for real this time after that infuriating Bradley & Selim fakeout. May? What’s wrong? Oh. Oh yeah. Her whole mission was to learn the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone, only to find out it’s based on suffering and the obtaining of immortality for one at the expense of so, so many others. And His Imperial Highness, aka her father, apparently would make one without a moment’s hesitation using any number of his people. So apparently he leans more towards Wrath’s philosophy of leadership than Ling’s. But if she doesn’t bring back the secret of immortality, her clan is in danger from all the others. Marcoh says that the notes might have the humane secret to immortality, they just need to hurry up get to the Fort so Scar can get a-translating. [Ed]: “What do you mean, ‘the Fort is no longer safe’?!” Welp. Just when we get Armstrong The Great as an ally, she’s been summoned back to Central and a Military Officer’s getting put in her place, along with a bunch of other Central forces. So now the Tunnel Team is walking into a hostile environment without knowing. They have to be warned, but how? Ed wants to go but he’ll freeze before he gets anywhere close… [Al]: “There is a way! Listen: send someone who doesn’t have a body. That storm won’t freeze me to death!” Uh, Al? Sure I guess you wouldn’t catch hypothermia, but you’re still a giant suit of steel armor. Remember how there was that whole “Ed’s arm freezing up” problem that was fixed by replacing his entire arm? You don’t have body heat like a living person, your limbs are just gonna ice up. Actually, how the Leto hasn’t that happened yet? Huh. I guess Souls act as armor heaters too, Al’s having more trouble just seeing where he’s walking in the blizzard than actually moving. He sees the path but the winds picks up and the screen whites out from the snow GAH ZOMBIE AL! Oh shit how did Al end up in the Whitespace? Uh, well you’ve found your body? Quick, grab it and let’s get wait no it was an illusion. What, you getting snow madness buddy? Oh. Oh shit. We’ve got a flashback to Barry musing that foreign bodies can’t hold souls for too long, Al’s freaking out about his body trapped in Whitespace, pulling on his soul as it’s rejected by his armor… he can’t think about that right now, he has to hurry. Without the map now, since he dropped it after that vision. Oh hell it’s this asshole. [Uncle]: “Alphonse Elric. Edward Elric. And also… there’s… Van Hohenheim. Izumi Curtis, she’s a possibility-” Aside from all the awfulness of listing off Potential Sacrifices, which is looking a lot more like ‘killing all of these people, not just one or the other’, did you just purposefully knock over Izumi’s piece? Rude, and I can’t wait to see her punch you. “That leaves one more.” New end credits! Rapid guitar music as we race through a 3D hallway/tunnel, outside looks like Ed’s standing in the ruins of the Elric house, Al’s somewhere else standing among some tall square rocks. Flashes of red-eyed Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Pride, and Uncle (what, no Lust, Greed or Sloth?) A look at Riza’s scarred back with that strange symbol before she turns and I am very sorry for walking in while you were changing ma’am, I’ll be going now. Roy’s still in his eveningwear outfit probably trying to get someone to take all those flowers off his hands, Beard is oh Leto what is happening with your face, are you actually smiling. That looks so weird, stoppit. Oh hey it’s Mama Elric, so sad that we lost you before we could fully appreciate your snark. Ah there’s the scowling Beard that we know, go kick Uncle’s ass. We’ve got Ed jumping and Al and LING YES BRING HIM BACK and a lion and monkey oh my Leto is Al actually going to build a Chimera Army this is the best thing of all time yeah there’s Toad and Boar we are totally getting Rebel General Al. Also there’s Alchemist-Slayer Scar on their side now but who cares CHIMERA ARMY ok fine we also get May and oh Marcoh’s getting in on the action looks like he lost a few teeth wait Yoki no we need you as the secret tactical genius get off the front lines. Selim’s there looking all cute and innocent in his little schoolkid guise until his shadow gets teethy and attacks Ed. Winry’s power walking through a hallway (can’t see if she got her earrings back). Then a bunch of hands reaching up, one larger one grasping a smaller one (which ship will sail?!) before we’re back in the tunnel, shots of Ed and Al and Beard before a final map of the country-sized TC.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 39

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