#my dad had enough and left a note on their door translated cause they woke up my mom at like 6-7am the same way to the point she yelled and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Middle of the Trees

You can’t sleep. Calum learns about a secret talent.

Reader Insert. No specific race or gender.

This is was SUPPOSED to be a quick 500 word blurbs. She’s 2.4k words but we already knew I’m captain of long windedness. Please enjoy the pre-game to tomorrow’s festivies. (It’s not related at all. Just cranking out some last minute drafts before my final 5sos fic goes up.)

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on ko-fi

________________________________

You shouldn’t have been awake. Not this late at night. You hadn’t meant to be awake at this hour, if you’re honest. It was probably the nap from earlier, when you were out with Calum, bathing in the warm sun. Being out in the sun created a fatigue that truly was unmatched. So after your return in doors and showering, you settled onto the couch. Sleep found you without a fight. Now, now, you are paying the price it seems.

The house is settling into the quiet of the night. Duke is curled up on your side of the bed. Calum half covered by the sheets and bathed in the faintest light from the moon seeping in through the blinds. It isn’t a lot of light. Though, it helps that even in the dark you can make out the outline of Calum’s figure in the bed. There are two options, after staring at the TV in the living room, proved no use for your much too alert mind: you can curl up next to Calum and hope that the warmth of his body is enough to trick your brain or you could mess about with something in the house until the buzzing of your brained quieted.

On a plus, Calum slept like the dead, so even if you made a little bit of noise with your choice of activity, it probably wouldn’t wake him. Padding into his office/music room, you find the keyboard he set up in the corner. Most of the room is lined with plaques and various guitars: bass, electric, acoustic. Plopping yourself into the computer chair at his desk, you roll it over to the keyboard. It turns on, the small red light letting you know so. You readjust the settings, after playing just a quick note and horns screech out at you.

“Didn’t know that was up his sleeve,” you tease, clicking it over to the piano setting. When you play the note again, it sounds like twinkling stars and you just sit for a moment. The window’s to your left, the shades are drawn but not shut fully. Almost as if Calum had closed them part way through the day, at some point because it was too much light.

From here, your view is mostly backyard and privacy shrubbery but you can imagine that on just the other side is the road. And who knows if cars are passing by at this time of night, but they could be. And inside those cars are kids laughing as they are taken back from some party. Or maybe it’s just someone trying to clear their head. The weight of everything has finally pushed their spine too far and if they don’t do something, don’t do anything, they’re sure to snap.

Maybe cars are just out because folks are heading home from the late shift, heading out to the late shift and all around are just folks living lives. And you are here. Sitting at a keyboard, hoping that your fingers find something to say. But that is a life living too, you suppose. You are a life living too. By the time you turn your attention back to the keys, your fingers are moving and the haunting sounds swell for a moment, trail off and up near the higher end, you pick it back up.

There’s nothing wrong with where you are, of course. It’s comfortable. It’s familiar and it’s not that you’re bored with Calum, or the relationship. But part of you wants to hear cars going by. You want to be in those cars, sometimes. You don’t think your youth was snatched from you but you do think that maybe you had always been a little too cautious, had always played things a little too safe.

There’s life happening in this house, you remind yourself, fingers running down the scale. It gets like this sometimes. Having you remind yourself that there’s nothing wrong with the way you’ve played your cards. They’ve worked out for you. And it’s only at night, when you’re alone with your thoughts that you start to second guess everything. You always joke that it’s a talent that takes years to perfect to overthink like you do. Really it’s not so bad, it’s not.

The keys sing out for a moment longer, waiting for more of your fingers to work magic over them. But all you can do is just sit and stare and imagine the neon lights bathing a street in their glow and how heels are clicking against asphalt and how someone’s bent over their plate of greasy food. Or maybe someone’s leaning into a wall, in a too brightly lit dinner, praying for the sun to finally lift the curtain of darkness.

“You never said you could play piano?” It’s Calum’s scratchy and hoarse voice from behind you.

You shrug before spinning around in the chair. “I only play by ear mostly. Not trained to play it really.”

He shuffles, scratching at his scalp for a second before that hand stretches out. “Well, you sound lovely. Bed?”

“Can’t sleep,” you answer, trailing your fingers over his skin. It sends a shiver down his spine at how cold your fingers are and how soft the touch is; he’ll never get used to it. It’s been a year as if and it always catches him off guard.

His fingers wrap over yours and tugs to bring you to your feet. “Teach me.” It’s a soft command and in the darkness as your eyes have adjusted you can see and hear how sleep is still holding onto him. He probably woke up to go to the bathroom or maybe the piano playing woke him.

“Did I wake you?”

Calum doesn’t answer. Instead he settles into the chair and pats his lap. “Teach me.”

You shrug. “I don’t--I don’t even remember what I played. It just,” you gesture for a moment, like vomit coming out of your mouth.

He shrugs. “Play me something else then.” The command comes with another pat to his thighs.

You don’t raise anymore arguments and settle into him. Calum turns the hair with his feet, arms wrapping around your waist. His breath tickles your back. Your fingers settle curled and ready for your thoughts to carry them. But for a moment in time, all you focus on is the way Calum’s breathing causes his chest to just brush up against your back. You let yourself breathe in time with him for a moment.

The first note hits the air and it lingers, nearly fading out before the next one accompanies it. It’s a dance, you see now. Two people who have fallen in sync with each other. The tempo you’ve created makes you think of a waltz, dazzling lights and the clinking of tea cups against their porcelain saucers. You think about when you were a kid and thought about how magical a moment it is to find the one, to lock eyes across the room with the person that will get to see your soul, naked and truly you.

Somewhere in the years that childlike wonder when it comes to love tarnished. Maybe it’s all the hearts that weren’t gentle with yours and maybe it’s all the hearts you weren’t gentle with. Maybe it’s the beds you almost got into. Maybe it’s the friends that you lost contact with just because that’s the way the world spins. People come in for a season and you want them to stay for harvest. How fucked up is it, to have a heart that yearns to be loved and to give love, but manages to get attached to the wrong people, to know that even things with pure intents can be mistakes.

Calum squeezes your waist. The particular harsh throaty croaks catch his ears and he’s not sure where this is going, what’s happening but he wants you to know that he’s here. He won’t let you fall. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing and leaving behind in their wake a trail of tingles.

“Do you remember your dreams?” you asks, finally bringing your gaze back to the keys in front of you and not the beige wall.

“I don’t think I dream much anymore. Not any ones that are interesting really.”

“We all dream. You just don’t remember them that’s all.”

Calum chuckles, leaning a bit to the side to see your face. “There’s one dream. That keeps coming back.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember your dreams?”

“I asked you first.”

With a kiss to your back, he exhales deeply. “I’m in some sort of field. Tall grass. Some flowers. But there’s this dirt path in front of me. It splits into two and one’s into some deep forest. The other seems to go on for miles with more field, most flat land. Can’t see the end for either one of them. And I’m just, like, standing there. Really. That’s it. Just standing.”

“Never pick a path?” you ask letting the run play once, then twice, then a third time in half speed.

“Well, if I pick the forest. I meet an angel halfway through. Can’t really make out any details. Just a general human like figure in bright light. I try to talk to them. But they’re silent, singing up into the skies for what seems like forever. I can stand there as long as I want and they never drop the note.” As the sentence leaves his mouth, he notices that you replay the same note once, twice, a third time and even a fourth.

“What’s in the forest?”

“Besides some trees and the angel?” You nod. Another exhale from him tickles your skin. “Not much. Not much animal life. No wind. Just us two. I can walk down some more. It’s more trees that outline the path and a river. Sometimes I skip the angel and just go straight to staring up through the clear water of this river, up to the bright sun and I just float. Let the current take me. I can float right pass my mum. She never hears me under the water. My dad’s a little further down. He doesn’t hear me. Mali’s there too. The guys. Friends from back in Australia. None of them can hear me and then that angel comes back, like right at the end after everyone else has seemingly just let me go by. They’re right there. I almost don’t even try with them, you know. Just figure that if the end has to take me it will. But they see me. They’re watching and it’s like finally my arms can break through the surface of the water. And they just latch on.”

“Do you think you needed to be saved? Or just wanted it? Like do you know that there’s danger on the other side?”

Calum hadn’t thought about that. By the time he’s free from the water he’s awake, or his alarm is going off. “I don’t know if there’s danger.”

“What’s down the other path?” Your fingers are still carrying over the keys, you’re thinking that flat plains need half notes. What’s the worst that could happen? You know you won’t be staying there long, not if there’s more to Calum’s dream.

“I’ve never gone down that path. I’ve wondered about it. But any time that dream happens I always choose the forest.”

“Is there anything you want to be down there? Do you wish it a path to something?”

“I wouldn’t even begin to have an idea.”

That’s content if you’ve ever heard it. If you ever had to play a song for it too. “I think you want to be saved. You don’t need it. Just want to know that people are there for you.”

“Maybe,” he hums in agreement. The music hasn’t stopped but it has slowed. The notes have more space, the sit longer, ring longer in his ears. “Do you remember your dreams?”

“Nah, I think they hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. You’re, like, the least hateable person in the world.”

You scoff, gaze falling back outside the window. Maybe all the cars have parked now. Maybe the kids finally got home. That late shift ended for that one person and just started for the other. There are no more heels to click. No more fries to scarf down. No more grease to pop at the skin.

“Anxious again?” The question is soft. You almost don’t hear it from Calum’s lip, but you do feel it as he speaks.

“Little bit, I guess.”

“Wanna go for a ride tomorrow?Maybe pack up and just see what’s out there for a day?”

“We can, yeah. Maybe it’ll help.” Maybe it’ll make you feel human again, connected to the masses but still living your own life. You play it out, thinking of what an angel means and what it must feel like to finally break through that water. How relief must flood his body and his veins.

Release. To let go. Release. What a relief. And soon the keys have no more life in them, no more croaking or groaning or taps from your fingers and you just let things sink, fall how they must out and maybe it’s okay to let go.

“Yeah we can go for a ride,” you say. Only to be meet by silence. Calum’s breath is deep. You can feel it in your back. His hold around you has slackened just a little and you know he’s falling, giving into sleep--if not already there.

You turn off the keyboard and tap his forearm. It wakes him. “Sleepy?” he asks. You’re sure his eyes are closed.

Sleep hasn’t gripped you yet. But you and Calum should probably get back to bed, especially him. “On it’s way,” you return, knowing sleep will find you, just not as immediately as it found Calum.

He hums, pushing back and after you stand, he shuffles back to the bedroom. The sheets smell like him and a little bit like Duke, but they’re a packaged deal. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You lay on your back, fingers trailing over the skin of Calum’s forearm slung over your stomach.

“I do remember my dreams,” you whisper. Calum hums, fingers flexes a bit and squish the flesh of you side. He doesn’t say anything though. So you continue on. “I’m standing in a field. Tall grass, some flowers. There’s a dirt road. It diverges and I don’t head further down into the fields. I go up into the trees. And I bathe myself in sunlight as a traveller comes by. They never seem lost. They just continue straight on, past me, down to the river. Sometimes I find them floating around. Sometimes I save them. But every time, we meet, in the middle of the trees.”

125 notes · View notes

factoffictionwriter · 4 years

Text

Tiva Fic Amnesty #3

Another piece of the multi chapter fic. Just Tiva talking about their lives (something we did not get enough of in the show). Enjoy!

Note: there’s a Hebrew phrase in here that didn’t translate very well. Basically: if you’re a native Hebrew speaker, I’m terribly sorry for botching your beautiful language.

“Anything else interesting in those boxes?”

She looked over at a particularly large box he now noticed was sitting on top of the piano, and caught her lower lip between her teeth. She seemed to be mulling over something big as she chewed lightly on her lower lip.

Finally she looked back over at him, a slight smirk drawing the corners of her mouth up.

“Can I show you something?”

His eyebrows went up at her tone, seemingly mocking the way he had asked her the same question more than a year ago, sitting in the break room with a stack of pictures in his hands.

“Yes,” he responded. She motioned for him to sit on the couch and he did, watching her as she got up and crossed the room, reaching into the mysterious box.

She pulled something out of it and held it low in front of her so he couldn’t see. She fingered it in her hand for a moment before pivoting around and walking over to him. She held the object in front of him so he could grab it as she sat down beside him, halfway on his lap, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

He slipped an arm around her waist as he looked at the small photograph in his hand.

There were two people in it. One a small girl, all smiles and unruly curls as the other one, a young woman with dark features as thick rimmed glasses, held the child over her head, circle of life style.

He squinted at the little girl, “Is that you?”

She nodded, her eyes trained on his face as he kept staring at the photo.

“And that’s your mom,” he stated it rather than asked, but she nodded anyway.

A small smile spread across his face as he looked at the tiny Ziva, so clearly content to be held by her mother and so obviously full of that spunk he knew so well. His eye drifted back up to her Mom.

“She looks just like you.”

“I believe it is me who looks like her, yes?”

He shrugged, “Either way.”

She turned her head to look at the picture with him, lowering it to rest right in the crook of his neck as they both stayed silent for a long time.

“Do you think she would have liked me?” He barely whispered the question, hesitant to break the comfortable silence they had been in.

Ziva laughed lightly, “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“Rivka David would have hated you,” she said it with such amusement in her voice that he couldn’t bring himself to be offended, “At least at first.”

“Really?”

Ziva sat up a big and puffed out her chest in what he assumed was a dramatic impression of her mother’s voice, “Req at hetveb beyvetr 'ebevr Ziva shely. Ayesh nhemd. Adem yhevdey.”

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for the English translation.

“Only the best for my Ziva. A nice man. A Jewish man.”

He chuckled, “So she wouldn’t approve?”

“Not at all. She would probably call you an Italian American cowboy and try to kick you out of the house.”

“But you said she might come around?”

“Oh, I know she would come around… eventually. Once she saw the way you looked at me or how happy you make me. But it would take some time.”

He nodded, his thoughts drifting off to fantasies about bringing flowers to the door as he stood nervously, his hand locked with Ziva’s as he awaited a final verdict as to whether or not they had her mother’s approval.

“Well, my mom would have adored you,” he mumbled into her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder again.

“You think so?”

“I know so. She would have probably cornered me right after meeting you and asked just who I thought I was making deals with the devil because there is no way I could score a woman like you without some divine intervention.”

She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his cheek as she ran a hand through his hair. Then she leaned her head against his as the comfortable silence returned.

Once again, he was the one to break it.

“You know, you accused me other never talking about my mother, but I’m pretty sure you have avoided talking about yours even more than I have. You’ve never even told me how she died.”

Ziva seemed surprised, “Really? I thought I would have mentioned it. Well, I guess my mother’s death was the least traumatic out of all the deaths in my family, so I don’t find myself in too many positions where I have to talk about it.”

“What happened?”

She shrugged, “She got sick.”

“Cancer?”

“Not exactly. She was told she had a brain tumor shortly after she gave birth to Tali. They said it was benign, but inoperable. They monitored it for years, but it didn’t seem to be growing or causing any problems. She eventually got tired of all the hospital visits and scans, so she stopped going. A year or so later she died in her sleep. They said the tumor wrapped itself around her brain stem and cut off the oxygen supply. They told us she died quickly and without pain.”

“How old were you?”

“I believe I was 12 or so. Tali would have been 6 or 7. We went to bed one night with a mom, and woke up without one. It seemed like the end of the world at the time, but I am just thankful that she went peacefully.”

He nodded.

“You haven’t really told me how your mother died either.”

“Yes I did. She had cancer.”

“Yes but you have always left it at that.”

He shrugged, “There really isn’t much more to tell. She was in the hospital a lot while I was growing up. She went through a lot of treatments. In the end, she underwent an experimental surgery that they thought had been successful. It seemed like she was getting stronger. But they messed something up, and she died a few days later.”

“Were you there?”

“I was the only one there. Dad had run out to get us all dinner. Mom hated the hospital food, so she convinced him to buy us all hamburgers. We were just watching a movie, waiting for him to get back, when all her monitors started going off. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even yell for a nurse, I just watched her breathing slow until someone came running in. She was long gone before my dad got back with the food, and I felt like I had let him down somehow. Like it was my fault. He sent me off to my first boarding school not too long after it happened, and I think that really solidified it in my mind that he blamed me. I realized years later that wasn’t the case, but the damage had been done.”

“How old were you?”

“8.”

“Wow. So young.”

He nodded, “It wasn’t fair.”

“It never is.”

He looked up at the emotional hitch in her voice. She had tears brimming in her eyes as she carefully took the photo out of his hand.

#amnesty fic #amnesty week #starting tomorrow #I'm gonna post two at a time for a few days #because they're shorter #like way shorter #but here's a nice little parallel #to one of the most legendary tiva scenes of all time #factoffiction #factoffictionwriter #factoffiction amnesty week #tiva #tiva fanfiction #fanfic #throwback tiva #mine #obviously

24 notes · View notes

saintcheesus · 7 years

Note

Hi, I heard from a friend that you were doing ficlet request. I have three. The first one is Damien gets Robert a really cool knife for their anniversary to go cryptid hunting and Robert's just like marry me. The second one is Robert and Damien are getting busy (smex) when Lucien comes home early and Damien hides Robert. The third one is Damien is self-concise about his body and Robert wants to take him to the beach, so the compromise is they go to the beach at night and have fun.

Nonny bless you for these fic prompts! The problem withtumblr is that I can only answer the ask once (unless I keep reblogging thepost with the additions of the fic requests but that’ll be a dash-clogger) ifyou see this ficlet and you would like to send each fic request separately that’sfine, or if you would like to come off anon and I can personally tag you ineach that’s also fine!

I’m going to do the third one first because that was the oneI was planning to add to my fic Love That Dad! But with Lucien coaxing himrather than Robert, but I am still very excited to do it! Here goes nothing

~~~~~~~

It was admittedly one of the hottest days in the year. Theseason was about to turn and of course mother nature (the most elusive cryptidof all if you ask Robert) decided that this was the time to scorch everyone onearth, the residents of the cul-de-sac more specifically. He was certainlyroasting alive in his tiny house, he should open a window, but it would onlybring more heat in. He already drank a whole case of ice cold beer and all itdid was make him sad. So now he was hot and sad, in that order. There wasnothing on television, and if he watched another show where people ran aroundbeing scared by “ghosts” then he was sure he was going to throw himself to theDover Ghost. He made a little tub of ice water for Betsy, she seemed satisfiedenough. Her little body just big enough to fit inside of the plastic bin, hertongue lolled out of her mouth. She was sleeping. He smiled, she was dumb butshe was his dummy and he loved her.

He got up, shedding his sweat-soaked shirt. He was prettyhairy, so that meant that hot days were even hotter for him and that meant thathis water bill was going to be through the roof this month. He chucked it inthe hamper and went to go the bathroom but then an idea ran through his head.

He wanted to go to the beach. But not by himself, and notjust with Betsy, she had no head for conversation. He got out his phone andscrolled through his small list of contacts. Brian? Nah, he was going to bringhis daughter and talk about how great she was and he didn’t need to be remindedof what a shitty dad he was. Mat? He was cool, and made good coffee, maybe theycould chill and drink a jug of ice coffee. Nah, Mat got nervous around people,and that meant small talk and no bouts of silence that he wanted. Craig? Hardno. It would end up being a workout and he doesn’t need to get anymore sweatythan he already is. Fuck Joseph, automatic no. Mary? She was pretty much downfor anything. He sent her a text. She replied quickly saying that she andJoseph had to go to the church for some meeting about renovations, shortanswer: no. Hugo probably would prefer to stay indoors and read so he wasn’tgoing to even text him. That only left Damien.

Damien was cool he guessed, Mary knew him longer than shedid himself and she never badmouthed him. The three of them only hung out a fewtimes but it was fun. And he was the only person that knew what a cryptid was,and enjoyed being in cemeteries at ungodly hours of the night. His son was alittle shit but Damien loved him so that was enough for him. He tapped onDamien’s icon (which was a picture of Nosferatu) and the message box opened. Hestarted to type a message but then remembered that Damien preferred moreintimate modes of communication, like letter-writing, or face-to-face.

To Robert that translated as clever ways to claim his victims.He got up and looked out the window. He was home because the car was in thedriveway.

“Dude’s got to be burning alive in that house.”

Guy’s house was all black, and the inside was just as dark.He sighed, he wanted companionship, and the suspected vampire was just the onehe needed. He picked up his leather jacket and looked over at Betsy, who wasn’tmoving anytime soon. He went to the freezer, got the bag of ice and poured somemore in the bin.

“I’ll be back for you little lady.”

Betsy only boofed in response. He left the house and prettymuch ran to Damien’s house. He knocked on the door and waited a moment.

“He’s not a vampire, Robert…he’s not gonna eat you…he’s justinto Victorian stuff��definitely wasn’t the inspiration for Dracula…get ittogether!”

He wasn’t kept waiting long because the door opened and insteadof being greeted by the Goth Prince himself, he was greeted by just…Damien. Hewas wearing a black tank top and purple shorts. His hair was tied up and he waswearing his glasses. Robert thinks he’s never really seen him like this. Nopainted eyes, no contacts, just regular. Damien smiled and Robert always checksto see if there are fangs in his mouth. He’s safe.

“Ah, Robert! What brings you here today, friend?”

Damien’s jaw drops once he gets a good look at Robert. Thenhis cheeks go impossibly red.

“My friend…are you not wearing a shirt?”

Robert looks down. Oh, he forgot to put a new one on. Henods.

“Yeah, other one got dirty from my tangle with a bunch ofthugs last night. Almost thought I was done for, Betsy saved the day. That’s uh…that’swhy she couldn’t be with us today.”

Damien’s eyes widened. “Oh Robert! Are you okay, do you needme to call the authorities?”

Robert couldn’t hide the grin and laughed outright. Damien’sface straightened and he seemed unamused. “You are horrible.”

“I’m aware, Bats. Betsy’s at home chilling in her ice bath.”Damien pushed his glasses up. “You never explained your reason for being here.”

“Wanna go the beach?”

Damien looked uneasy suddenly and began fussing with the hemof his shirt.

“Right now?”

“Yup.”

Damien swallowed and Robert raised his brows. “Oh w-well, I…um…wouldit be possible if we were able…to go at night?”

Robert smirked and crossed his arms. “What, afraid you’regonna burn in the sun?” It was sunset now but still. Damien wanted to laugh buthe looked nervous and a little sad. He shook his head.

“If only that were the case…”

Robert’s smirk left his face as he stood straight, now genuinelyconcerned for Damien. “What, what’s the problem?”

Damien pushed his glasses up and grabbed Robert’s wrist tolead him inside of the house. It struck him that Damien’s house felt…reallygood. Did he have AC? Well, if he was going to paint his house all black thenhe had to have been prepared for days like this. Damien crossed his arms andlooked at his feet.

“What’s the matter?” He asked again, surprised by thesoftness of his voice. Damien looked ashamed that he felt whatever he wasfeeling.

“I um…I haven’t gotten top surgery yet…”

Oh. Oh.

And now Robert felt like an asshole for not even consideringthat. Damien couldn’t even make eye contact with him and Robert, without thinking,pulled him in a hug. They were both shocked by this, and he forgot he wasn’twearing a shirt.

“Hey, hey…” He rubbed Damien’s back, “Don’t sweat it man, ifyou want to go at night, we’ll go at night, okay?”

Damien nodded and for a moment Robert forgot that noteveryone was as accepting as himself and the rest of the dads in thecul-de-sac. He pulled away, but clapped both hands on Damien’s arms and gavehim a reassuring smile.

“We’re gonna have fun, Bats. Don’t worry, I’ll see youtonight.”

“Yes, thank you. I apologize if this is causing you any inconvenience.”

Robert gave him a slap on the shoulder and walked out thehome. He turned back around. If only his son wasn’t so allergic to dogs then hewould have brought Betsy over to chill in the house until their date. Date.Huh. That sounded nice.

He came back promptly after the sun went down and it wasnight time. The plus side to the beach was that it was open all hours of thenight, if they went swimming they would just have to be mindful of their limitsbecause the lifeguards aren’t there. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and hemay have just gone home and slept because of the heat in his house, but when hewoke up, it felt a lot better. Betsy relocated herself to her doggy bed whichwas now soaked. He poured some dry food for her and left the house afterkissing her wet little head. He walked over to Damien’s house and knockedagain. Damien opened it and was wearing the same black tank, but crimson swimtrunks with it. He was wearing flip flops and Robert just couldn’t help butthink how good he looked in his trunks. He always thought that Damien washandsome.

“I apologize again, Robert. I’m ready to go.”

“Nothing to worry about, Damien trust me. I see you broughta picnic basket.”

“Oh yes, it’s my way of making up for delaying our outing.”

“You got whiskey in it?”

“Yes, I brought a flask just for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course not, Robert.”

So, he does have a sense of humor. They got into Rob’spick-up truck and drove to the beach. It was thankfully empty and still warmenough that the water’s breeze wouldn’t freeze them to death. Damien set downthe blanket and placed the basket in the middle. Robert was already in hisswimming trunks, well, his boxer briefs, really. He left his jacket in the car.

“You did not bring Betsy with you?”

“Nah, she was sleeping.” Robert noted that Damien soundeddisappointed. Damien started to take his shirt off and Robert couldn’t help butstare.

“What? Why are you staring at me?” Damien crossed his arms tocover himself and Robert shook his head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I was just thinking about how good youlooked.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“No, I really mean it Damien. I find you attractive.”

“Really?”

“Do I love whiskey?”

Damien laughed and Robert couldn’t help but laugh too. Hewanted to find more ways to make him laugh. Damien sat down next to Robert andpulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“I’m afraid I have no head for whiskey, but Mary gifted mewith this bottle a few years ago and I thought that I would partake with you.”

He poured Robert’s glass to the top and gave it to him. Hepoured himself a glass and set the bottle back in the basket. They clinkedglasses and Damien took careful sips whereas Robert pretty much downed half ofit in one swig. Too used to shots. Damien chuckled and took another sip.

“The water is quite beautiful at night.”

“Yep.”

“In the Victorian era, the women were forced to use machinesto paddle them out to water to swim because the men found their bathing suits inappropriate.”

“Really?”

Damien nodded excitedly, happy to share all he knows aboutthe time period. Robert finished the glass.

“Assholes.”

“Quite.”

Robert placed the glass back in the basket and took Damien’sglass and placed it carefully in the sand. “Hey, you know I heard that there’sa sea serpent right here in this beach?”

“Has there?”

“Oh yeah, as long as ship and known to terrorize anybody whoswam in the water at night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t— “

“We’re gonna swim in it.”

Damien looked at him. His smile irresistible.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Damien…”

“Rob— “

Robert kissed Damien on the lips. “Yes…” He growled inDamien’s ear. Before Damien could recover from the shock of the kiss, Robertgrabbed his hand and rose running toward the water.

“Do you your worst sea serpent!”

“Robert, stop!” Damien laughed as he was being dragged intothe water with Robert. The only noises heard that night were the sounds oftheir laughter, and splashing, and after that, the sounds of them snogging onthe sand.

~~~~~

This was a lot longer than I wanted it to be I hope you like it!

#ficlet #dream daddy #damien bloodmarch #robert small #smallmarch #prompts #fluff #hey nonny nonny!#ask and you shall receive

144 notes · View notes

storytimecatb · 7 years

Text

The night before seemed unreal, almost fairytale like and you couldn't believe if it actually happened or not. You laid in your bed staring at the ceiling trying to differentiate reality and what seemed to be a dream. You shut your eyes and felt the phantom touch of his hand caressing your cheek, and the light nibble on your neck, and the fiery kiss left on your lips. The events from the night before flooded your mind. He was like an angel, who showed up when things went downhill. You walked in on your dad having an affair with your best friend Ciara, it was probably the worst thing that could've happened. They stopped and tried to chase you down screaming "it's not like that!" You had to stop. You had to give them a piece of your mind. "So wait? You're weren't just fucking my father? It wasn't like that? You're both so full of shit, I'd expect better from a grown man not to sleep with his daughters friend and I'd expect better from you, Ciara, not to be a homewrecking whore." That got them to stop following you. Yeah it was a bit harsh but they're in the wrong, not you. You went for a long long walk back towards your apartment, you could've taken a bus or called a cab. But angrily walking down the street just felt like the right thing to do. Up until you almost stepped in front of a moving car, the only thing that stopped you was the boy behind you who caught you just before you crossed the street. You both ended up falling because of how hard he pulled you back. You fell on top of him, "Woah, love. Atleast let me take you out on a date first." His smile was cute, you almost got sucked into his blue eyes. Then you were filled with anger again, you sat up "Are you seriously making jokes right now? I almost got hit!" He sat up and looked hurt at how you just snapped at him, "But you didn't. Because I saved you... I think most people would say 'Thank you'." You felt like an asshole. "... Thank you. I'm sorry for yelling at you, I'm not exactly having the greatest day." He stood up and held out his hand, "Bad days happen, life happens. Do you wanna talk? My names Van." You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up "I kind of do want to talk, if you're okay with listening to my bullshit?" He smiled "Of course, I wouldn't've offered." "Thanks again, my names y/n by the way." He lit a smoke and ran his hand through his hair, who in the fuck could make smoking look that cool? "That's a pretty name." The walk mainly consisted of you making angry hand gestures and spewing venom about how your dad's this and your ex best friend is this and who will break the news to your mom. Van didn't judge you nor did he say a word unless you asked him a question. He just listened. Van stopped in front of a restaurant, you had to turn to look at him. "Do you want to get dinner? You get to continue your angry rant and I get continue admiring you. You're hot when you're mad..." you gave him an odd look and glanced over at the restaurant. Had to be Italian, the name 'Giovani's' was definitely Italian. "I'm.. uhh.. yeah we could do that." You had no where to be and you were kind of flustered by the compliment. Over dinner Van cracked a few lame jokes and started talking about how he and his band mates dressed as ninjas. "Bob, looked like a giant broccoli. His hair stuck out at the top." You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, it didn't matter. It was still funny. You completely forgot about your dad and Ciara. You switched roles and he went on about all the fun things he did and you admired his beauty. His brown hair, how his eyes lit up when he spoke about the things that made him happy, and how he constantly licked his lips. You were probably admiring too much because he started saying something else "Y/n! Y/n! Are you there?" You snapped out of it, "hm? Sorry my mind wandered." He grinned "Where to?" He knew exactly what you were thinking so you ignored his question. "Do you wanna go halves on the bill?" He threw down a couple bills, "Can we could skip the modern crap and I'll be a gentleman and pay?" You were slightly bothered but not enough to say no. You both stood outside, he had managed to flag down a cab. He told the driver to take you to wherever you wanted to go. You wanted to go home, but you also wanted Van to come with you. "How are you getting home? Are you going to be okay? Do you wanna come over for a bit?" He smiled at your concern "I don't have a home, not here anyway." You were confused "So where are you gonna go?" "I could go back to the hotel I'm staying at or I could take you up on your offer and go to yours." Your smile gave him indication that going to yours was his best option. So he jumped in the cab with you. You fumbled with your keys, the building was older so you had to fight with the door. He laughed "How do you manage to get in everyday?" "It's fine, it's fine. Cause we are... in!" You got the door to open. "Bienvenue dans mon palais!" He looked shocked "What?" You translated "Welcome to my palace." In all honesty it wasn't exactly a palace but it was comfortable and it was home. Van and you sat on the sofa and talked over wine. You both talked and talked as if you were trying to get to know everything about each other in one night. He suddenly stopped "What's wrong Van?" You saw a bit of sadness in his eyes "I wish I could stay here longer.. but we leave on Monday." Hurt filled your chest again "Oh." He held your hand and gave a little pull until you were both face to face. His hand caressed your cheek and he looked into your eyes waiting for approval. "Do it Van." His lips landed gently on yours. This little kiss lead to a big kiss, a really really heated kiss. His hands grabbed your thighs and he pulled you onto his lap, your hands were on his shoulders and his were on your back. Your hands crept up onto the back of his neck, and he pulled you closer causing you to grind on him. He started breathing heavily "where's the bedroom?" You got up and walked to your room. He held your hand the entire way and when you shut the bedroom door he pressed you up against the wall with your hands over your head. Upon freeing your hands he started kissing his way down, from your neck, collarbone, breasts. Soft sensual kisses each one making you breath heavier. He got down to his knees and started undoing your jeans he got them off and you helped take them off completely. He stood back up, you reached down and started unbuttoning his jeans, "mm." He let out tiny moans. He grabbed your hand and put it on the bulge that was showing through his briefs. Your hand reached the waistband and you pulled them down. He grabbed your thigh again and lifted you. Pinning you up against the wall once more, he carried you to the bed. Your body was filled with a burning lust for him "Van, I want you in me." He teased you a little by rubbing the head of his penis gently on your clit, making you even more wet. When he knew you were wet enough for him he slipped it in. You both let out breathy moans, he started off slow "fuck, you feel so good." Then he sped up a little gradually, until he was thrusting into you so hard that it was the only thing you could hear. You felt pleasure from the pain, he released every bit of sexual frustration out on you. You turned your head and tried to muffle your moans into the pillow, he started biting your neck and leaving marks. "Van, I'm close." Just by letting him know that, it made him close to coming too. Waves of intense pleasure both crashed through you guys. His thrusts became slower but deeper and his moan was louder. He collapsed on top of you, his panting slowed eventually while you ran your fingers up and down his back. He rolled off of you. He had his arm under your head and pulled you closer, "This is why I wanted to stay. I knew the connection was so intense that it would explode. I need you in my life." He wasn't wrong, the connection was intense. You both fell asleep next to each other. When you woke up, he was gone. He left a note, "pack your stuff, you'll be leaving with me." It was surreal, it was a fairytale. It was all yours.

#catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #bob hall #benji blakeway #johnny bond #fanfic #smut #short stories

18 notes · View notes

ask-justin-and-angel · 7 years

Text

Jag: Surprise! New format time! (also an actual story post) That speech/action alternating style has been holding me back for a bit. I'll still use it from time to time, but story posts are gonna actually contain some STORY now. Time to let my inner writer out of its cage. So let's go. Time to get this story rolling again. Let's dive in where we left off!

"* *" signifies communication via telepathy or some other nonverbal means.

I'm so, so sorry about the length of it ahead of time.

Justin starts to go down the stairs, but hesitates a few steps down. Angel puts her hand on his shoulder. "*Come on Justin, you can do this. I'm here.*" Justin takes a deep breath, then keeps moving. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks over to see Nick and his father Daniel, a tall man with an impressive moustache, talking, while his mother plays with Mimi, the family Eevee. He can hear his mom making silly sounds at her, while Mimi runs around making small, trilling sounds. In the back of his mind, he can hear an approximation of what she's saying, something along the lines of "Play play play play play fun yay wheeeeee!" He chuckles despite himself, causing Nick to turn around. "Hey little bro. 'Bout time you came down. Mom said you wanted to talk to all of us 'bout somethin'?" "Um, yeah. She asked me how the trip to Johto was, and I told her that I wanted to wait until I could tell all of you. "Well then son, come sit down and tell us then." "Okay dad." "Come on Abigail, Justin's ready to talk to us." "Oh, okay, I'll be there in a moment dear!" As they all move to the dining table, Mimi follows closely behind Abigail, still going "Play?" Justin smiles, then sits down next to Angel. Once the rest of his family has finished sitting down, he takes a deep breath. "Okay. So. Um... How to begin... Well, first off, as you can see, both Angel and I are okay, so please keep that in mind while I talk, because this is kinda... complicated..." He is greeted with silence. "I think you freaked them out Justin." He turns to look at Angel, surprised she isn't using Telepathy. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best way to start, but still. It's not like I can really start on a happy note, is it?" "You still could have handled that better." "I get that. But how else was I supposed to start?!" "Please don't yell at me." "Well what am I supposed to-" He stops, noticing just how quiet it is, then looks over to see his brother with raised eyebrows, his father with a stern look on his face, and his mother with her hands over her mouth. "Um...." "Bro, were you just... talking to Angel? Without Telepathy? Care to explain?" "What makes you think she wasn't-" "'Cause her eyes weren't glowin'. I'm a Pokemon researcher kiddo. I notice this kind of stuff. It's kinda my job." Justin closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Okay, yeah, I was talking to her. Please don't ask how. Not yet. It's... kinda part of the story." "Well now I really wanna hear 'bout your little trip." "Okay. So, the actual story doesn't really start until Angel and I were already heading back home." He then proceeds to tell them about how, when they stopped to have a quick snack, they were greeted by an unknown man, who then proceeded to attack in an attempt to kidnap Angel, when he was interrupted by his father. "I take it that you beat this ruffian then?" Justin rubs the back of his neck. "Actually... no, we didn't. He attacked with all of his Pokemon at once, which wouldn't have been as bad if he hadn't also taken the chance to attack me." At this point, his mother lets out a small gasp. "I'm fine though! I'm fine! See? Still here." "Not gonna tell them you were poisoned?" "Of course I'm going to tell them Angel, I just..." He shakes his head. "Anyways, he attacked me with Toxic, then followed up with a Venoshock, which had me floored pretty fast. Only reason he got Angel was because she turned her back on him when I got hit. Ricky was the only one still up at that point, but the poor guy got taken out as well. Then he grabbed Angel and..." He falls silent, clearly upset. "Anyways, a nearby Picnicker ran over to help me up and give me an Antidote, then she helped me get Ricky, Sandra, and Luffy to the Ecruteak Pokemon Center." "At which point you got medical help and called the police, right?" His mother asked, clearly terrified. "Um." Angel just shakes her head. "Maybe if I had been in the right state of mind, I would have. As it was, the Antidote had only dealt with some of the poison, and I was a bit loopy. So, I might have, in a delirious state, climbed one of the towers nearby in an attempt to get a better view, hoping to see her, while simultaneously leaving all of my Pokemon at the Center?" He said, rather sheepishly. His father just puts his head in his hands. "You've gotta be kiddin' me bro." "Sadly, no. And it's about to get, well... impossible. Strange and impossible." "I'm listenin'." "So, um, you're a scientist, I'm sure you've heard about the Ecruteak towers and the legends around them, right?" "I have once or twice, yeah. What of it?" "Well, what about the legendary trio? The ones brought back to life by Ho-oh?" "...Yeah. Where you goin' with this kiddo?" "So, um, don't ask me why or how, but once I reached the top of the tower, I may have succumbed to the poison and... died?" "...What." "Heh, that's how Angel reacted." "Focus Justin. Keep telling them the story before your mother has a heart attack." Justin looks over to his mother, who has gone a bit pale. Mimi is whining next to her, clearly worried. "Anyways, that's obviously not the end of the story, right? So... why I brought up Ho-oh and the trio is, well, that may have kinda happened to me?" "Son. What exactly do you mean by that? Justin says nothing, but rather gets up from the table, steps back, then summons a glowing blue bone. Nobody says anything, until Nick breaks the silence. "Is... is that a Bone Rush?" "Um... yeah?" "You can use moves now." "Yeah?" "How." "I have no idea." "Wonderful." "So, that's not all I can do. I can use Bone Rush, Flare Blitz, Protect, and Metronome. Oh, and I guess I have an ability too, I think it was Magic Guard? And to top it off, I can understand Pokemon now. Like, they talk, I hear the normal sounds, but I also hear a kind of translation in my head." "That's... impossible." "Didn't I say that?" Justin sits back down, having released the bone. "Anyways, I died, and then I woke up in the forest to the north. From what I understand, Ho-oh returned to the tower, picked up my body, took me into the forest, then revived me. When I woke up, I couldn't remember anything, then to top it off, I was attacked by a group of Magnemite. Long story short, I got upset enough running from them that I used Bone Rush without meaning to, knocking out one of them. When I realized I could fight, I stopped running and dealt with the rest of them." "*It was around this time that I woke up in a dark room with a metal collar around my neck." Everyone turns to look at Angel. "*I had no idea where I was, but I, unlike Justin, had not died, and remembered what had happened just fine. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided to do that broadcasting trick I used to do whenever Justin got lost, the feelings one.*" "While I wandered around the forest confused, I felt the broadcast, and it sparked my memories back up. I ran off in the direction of the thought, while the rest of my team was apparently not far behind, having also felt it. It wasn't long before I came up to a small mansion in the middle of the forest." "*At this point, I could feel him, so I opened my mind and told him where I was.*" "That was when I learned I could use Flare Blitz. I kinda football tackled the door down to get in. As well as to open her cell door." "Wouldn't that have left ya fairly hurt though? "...Yes?" Nick sighs. "Go on." "So, after checking on Angel and seeing that she wasn't in any immediate danger, I sat down next to her to catch my breath, since she had told me the others were on their way. Sandra broke the collar, and we all started to leave. We had just reached the exit when the guy attacked us again, this time telling his Tyranitar to use Hyper Beam. That's when I learned I could use Protect. Also, what kind of scorch pattern a Hyper Beam leaves on the ground. Anyways, I told the others to take Angel and run, which she wasn't happy about, but she followed." "Bro, this sounds like a comic book or somethin'." "You're telling me. So, the guy tells me that his name is Midas, and that he's a Team Rocket executive. Go figure. He then sends out all of his Pokemon again, and he tries to poison me yet again. Quickly learned I have Magic Guard. He then tried to send half his team to chase down the others, but I used Metronome for the first time in a panic, which turned into a Magnitude 10. He only has his Tyranitar now, which attacks with another Hyper Beam, I use protect again, Midas pulls out a gun, and I throw him off balance with another Flare Blitz, though I'm almost out cold myself at this point, then I use another Metronome, hoping I get a good one. I used Fissure, which split the land in front of me in two, collapsing part of the mansion." He stops, looking around the table. "I... think I might have killed him. When I made the fissure, he fell down it. He shot me in the shoulder on his way down, but still. I couldn't see the bottom. I never heard him hit the bottom. And he had a servant of some kind in the mansion, who was helping keep Angel hostage. I don't know what happened to him either." He stops talking, unable to look up. Angel leans over and puts her arms around him. He just leans against her, silent. "*Not long after, Officer Jenny found him wandering through the forest, with a bleeding shoulder ready to pass out. She had gone out there due to both the news of the attack on us and because Justin had caused at least two local tremors and set the mansion on fire, causing some concern. She brought him to the Center, where the doctors took care of him, though we didn't tell them everything. Just what they needed to know. And Justin's new... abilities... they didn't need to know about. Nothing else of note really happened beyond that.*" Everyone at the table is silent, still trying to process what they just heard. Daniel is the first to speak up. "Son. It sounds like... like you did a good thing. Well, maybe not a good thing. But I don't think any less of you for what happened. What's done is done." Next, his mother, trying hard not to cry. "I'm just glad you're okay! I... I don't know what I would do if I lost you..." Finally, his brother. "...Justin. This is a lot to take in. For multiple reasons. I'm sure you can guess some of 'em, so I won't bother you with 'em now. But... know this. I'm not sure what I would 'ave done if I was in your place. So I've got no room to judge. However, once your feelin' better, I want to talk to you. 'Bout several things. 'Kay?" Justin is silent. He doesn't move, though he does take a few shaky breaths, trying not to freak out. Nick gets up and heads outside. Angel shifts slightly, then stands up. "Come on. Let's go upstairs." She helps him up, then guides him towards the stairs. As the two of them head up, she can hear Justin's parents talking quietly. She opens her mind, curious. "Sometimes Abigail, I'm not sure if that Pokemon is the best thing to ever happen to our boy, or the worst." "Daniel! You know how much he cares about that Pokemon! He absolutely adores it!" "That's what I'm worried about." "Well, she was his first one after all." "I know that, I'm just sayin' that-" She closed her mind off. She had heard enough. Looks like their decision not to share everything was right. Not that Justin could know. He was having a hard enough time as it was.

Jag: So, for those of you who actually slogged through this, thank you. Question though, did you have any trouble reading it? Anything style-wise you want me to change? Cause I want to make sure people can understand what's going on when I write large amounts like this. Anyways, hopefully this is the start of me being more active again. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around till now, and welcome to any new readers I have, of which there are several (according to my follower count). Toodles!

P.S. Christ this is bigger than I thought. I am so sorry. XD

3 notes · View notes