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mignonricciardo · 2 years

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august | dr3

chapter one

I am so nervous and excited for you all to receive this, but here is chapter one of august <3 after the well-received sneak peek, I am so so excited to be getting this up

notes: day one and two (8.9k words)

warnings: alcohol, mentions of death, slowburn, pining, messy history

update: chapter 2 is here!

Day 1 of 19

“Callie, are you almost here?” Daniel whines over the screen.

“I’m forty minutes out,” I start, ignoring the phone screen as I drive. “Have a little patience.”

Our conversation continues for a few minutes, mainly with Daniel filling me in on all the details about our plans for the next few days. Excitement grows within me at his broad smile as he talks about all of our plans, grinning like a school kid. Relaxing today, family dinner tonight, motorbikes tomorrow, ATVs the day after. The list goes on, and once he’s detailed every minute of the next few days, I eventually fill the silence.

“I think this is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing either of you cobbers,” I grin over the call when I hear Michael’s distant voice.

Daniel’s face breaks into a wide smile as he laughs, “Australia’s missed Big Daddy!”

From somewhere off screen, Michael throws a couch pillow at Daniel, smacking him square in the side of the head. I laugh as I hear the scene unfold on my phone screen, glancing briefly at the screen before my eyes go back to the uninhabited road.

“It feels like there’s something different in the air. It’s like she knows you’re back,” I laugh.

“My god, I’ve never been more excited to be back in Western Australia,” the man grins, pushing his hair back before putting his cap on. “I’m about ready to kiss every person I see down on the beach.”

“That is not necessary!” Michael calls.

“Get yourself in check, Dan,” I laugh. “I’ll be there in twenty."

“Expect a kiss, like back in year ten,” he laughs.

I laugh as Michael yells, “Mate, I still can’t believe you did that!”

I bid the pair goodbye, anticipation building as the road turns to a single lane hugging the coast. Red dirt kicks up when it shifts to a gravel road, the indication of nearing my final destination. As a kid, I used to close my eyes when we hit gravel and visualize each turn and minuscule landmark leading up to the house. Mom would play Margaritaville, singing along loudly with Dad as wind whipped through the car with the windows down. Every time I opened my eyes after feeling the car lurch into park, Daniel’s wide grin is waiting for me at the steps. Even after my brother launched toward his best friend, already planning to jump on to the motorbikes and ATVs, Daniel would wait for me. He’d ruffle my hair, throw some lighthearted insult, and hug me as our parents watched. From missing front teeth to crooked canines to barely-there braces, his smile and mop of curls was always waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Madfish Bay. A bustling tourist attraction in the summer months with soaring temperatures, but a quaint, quiet town in the winter months. A constant chill settles along the coast in the winter months, but this was always our parents’ favorite time to come. People were few and far between, and this was when they could all get off. Daniel’s karting slowed, and all the kids would each miss an extra week of school to stay that much longer in the cozy beach home. It wasn’t everyone’s ideal beach vacation, but for us, it was perfect. Full of bonfires and blankets, laughter and lounging. The warmth of those winter vacations are some of the moments I hold closest.

Daniel has been one of my closest friends since I was born. Our moms were best friends long before we ever came around, and their bond passed on to us. Daniel and my older brother were best friends, too, playing rugby and karting together as kids. They brought Michael into the mix in year nine, and he had been coming along with Ricciardos since their first introduction. Michael quickly became a close friend of mine when he punched Liam Anderson after he tried giving me one beer too many in year 10 at a beach bonfire. Daniel’s older sister was the only other girl during those winters, but she always seemed so much older than me with her perfectly styled hair and trendy wardrobe. I was the unkempt, wild-child younger sister with messy braids and head full of daydreams.

We stopped going the winter after Daniel moved to Europe. The trip wasn’t complete without him there. There weren’t as many pranks carried out or empty beer bottles hidden in the trash. Michelle was older and in university, and my brother spent time with his on-again-off-again girlfriend at the time. It was really just me and Michael hanging out with the parents, but it was clear it was time for us to move on from the beloved beach home. Michael and Daniel started traveling the world together with the F1 paddock, and I visited as often as possible. It’s hard seeing them, though—navigating my own life and schedule around the relentless travel of racing. This winter marks over two years since I’ve last seen them in person. What better way to do it than the place it all started?

The car lurches in the driveway as I put it in park and look at the sprawling house before me. The house is exactly how I remembered it. Bright blue shutters despite the beating sun and the slanted terracotta roof sending shade across the front porch. The paved walkway from the parking pad, now full of cars for the first time in a decade, winds toward the sloping front steps. The ocean laps against the shore gently, crashing against rocks at the end of the alcove but gentle where it meets the small stretch of beach. I can’t stop the smile that spreads on my face, and I shriek when the two boys poke their head out of the door before Michael takes off running down to me on the rocky path. Michael leads Daniel, and they send red dirt flying behind them as they barrel toward me like a tornado. Tears well in my eyes as I launch into Michael’s arms first, my duffle bag falling off my shoulder to the dirt as I squeeze him tightly. Before he even loses his full grip on me, Daniel is reaching out to crush me against his chest. I am engulfed in his arms as my cheek squishes against his chest, and my arms wrap tightly around him. His head rests on the crown of mine as he spins me around, and he laughs giddily as he squeezes me. We hold on to each other for a lingering moment, breaking away when Michael begins to ask how I have been and what I’ve been up to. Daniel’s touch lingers, and it’s like breaking myself from a spell when I finally step out of his personal space.

“It’s been too long!” Michael cheers, voice changing when he sees my face. “Are you crying?”

I wipe my eyes as the two men laugh, “I haven’t seen you in two years. Yes, I’m crying, you dick.”

Daniel pulls me into his side, arm resting heavy across my shoulders, “Her vocabulary hasn’t changed at least.”

I elbow him in the side, giggling as he groans, “You still missed me.”

“Of course,” Michael smiles, ruffling hair on my head.

Daniel laughs quietly as his fingers rub the spot I had just hit, “Every day.”

The two fight over who has to carry my duffle bag for me, and Daniel somehow ends up with my bag slung across his shoulder as Michael skips toward the house. The two chatter happily as we step into the living room, sharing stories and laughs about the time I have missed with them. The interior looks just as I remembered it, even if a little outdated. Daniel takes my bags to my room for me, and Michael cracks open a beer for each of us as we settle on the large sectional in the middle of the living room. Old pictures line the walls and table next to the couch—images of each kid with missing teeth, scraped elbows and knees. The one of my parents with Daniel’s catches my attention. My dad smiles broadly at my mom with his dimples on display so proudly his cheeks must have hurt from the smile splitting them. I force myself to pull my eyes away from the fading pictures and back to the two on the couch.

Daniel’s cologne wafts toward me with his proximity, and I find myself becoming distracted by thoughts of him as the two friends try to share every detail of the past two years with me. I steal glances at the racer as he tells a story about his most recent race, hands waving wildly and eyes wide as he tells the story. He looks even better than I remember—tanned skin complimented by dark eyes and curly hair. He has more tattoos spreading across his arm and reaching closer to his knee than the last I saw him. I try to keep up with the two friends’ conversation, nodding my head and agreeing at points to show I’m listening, not falling into another daydream about the man sitting next to me.

“So,” Michael starts, a grin spreading across his face as he wiggles his eyebrows, “how’s the boyfriend? He jealous you’ll be here with us for three weeks?”

A question I knew was coming, but I dread it nonetheless. I answer with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders, “We broke up actually. A few months ago.”

If my casual words shock Daniel at all, he doesn’t let it show. His tattooed hand tightens around the beer bottle as he raises it to his lips. Michael looks between me and his friend, surprise clear in his raised brows and wide eyes, but neither of us acknowledge the truth I had just let spill.

“He was an ass,” Daniel mumbles, sipping from his beer and avoiding my eyes.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Michael says, both of us ignoring the driver’s comment.

“I didn’t want to bother you guys. It really wasn’t a big deal. I broke up with him,” I answer, walking toward the fridge for a beer of my own. I’m going to need one if the conversation continues along the line of my love life.

“Why?”

Michael’s curious gaze meets mine as I look up from the fridge, but Daniel’s waiting eyes draw my attention. I forgot how the depth of his eyes were able to drag me in and hold me hostage, even all these years later, and I feel like I’m thirteen-year old Caroline again staring at her best friend. A version that wasn’t supposed to feel anything that she was for her best friend. My voice is confident when I answer, but it’s a facade as my fingers tremble around the neck of the beer bottle.

I didn’t love him.

“Like Daniel said,” I affirm despite the real answer pinging around in my brain. “He was an ass.”

Our locked eyes linger, and Daniel watches me as I walk back toward the couch. He knows I’m lying, evidenced by the line creasing on my forehead like a puzzle he figured out years ago, but he doesn’t say a word as I sit back down. I hand him another beer as Michael finishes his, and his empty bottle clinks against the coffee table as he sets it down.

“Callie’s all grown up and mature now,” Michael grins. “Doing things for love instead of lust.”

“I’m literally two years younger than you, asshole,” I mumble, taking a sip from the cold beer.

The two men burst into laughter, and once it’s passed Michael stands up from the couch. He assesses what we’ll need from the market, consulting us for any additional snacks we want in the house before grabbing his keys and heading out toward his car. It leaves Daniel and I to continue catching up. Despite the open sectional that used to fit six people when the beach house was full, Daniel and I sit near each other—enough room so our arms don’t brush when I reach for my beer but close enough that I can hear his breath and smell his cologne. Our conversation is casual as he turns on the television, but a tense silence follows once we’ve run out of things to say. His eyes distractedly watch the television and my fingers pick at the label. After a few minutes, he finally speaks up.

“It’s good to see you, Callie,” he says quietly as if saying it any louder will shatter the bottle I’m nursing. “I’m happy that we’re here.”

“I’m happy we’re here, too, Dan,” I answer in the same careful tone. “I’ve missed you.”

He looks away from the television screen toward me, “It feels different without everyone here. Michelle and your brother are going to come out next week, but it still feels bigger than I remembered.”

“I haven’t been back since he’s passed,” I say quietly. “Mom always wanted to bring me back, but I couldn’t face it without him here. Every memory I have of this place, Dad’s there.”

Daniel’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to rest a hand over mine but stops short suddenly as if something shocked him before his skin brushed mine. He drops his hand to the couch, fingers twitching to brush mine. I catch the slight motion, and a part of me is thankful because the minute his hand covered mine in an act of comfort, my walls would have come crumbling down.

“What’s Sarah up to these days?” he asks about my mom, and I’m grateful for the change in subject. “Still traveling around?”

I nod with a gentle smile, eyes meeting his, “Still in Ireland right now with Tom. I told her she should just marry him, but she feels like she’s betraying Dad if she does.”

“She deserves happiness, yeah?” Daniel grins, forgetting about the television droning in the background. “And so do you.”

I nod, “Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.”

I’m transported back to a time when we were much younger, grinning at each other with bright eyes. No words pass between us, and after a few moments, I rise from the couch to take my bag to my room and start to unpack. Daniel watches me as I move across the room, slow steps as I maneuver the bag toward the stairs. A part of him wants to blurt something, anything, out to me. His brain screams for him to say that he’s sorry—sorry for everything, but our history was supposed to be buried. Unspoken moments both of us swore to never bring up again, even when it is just us. Even staring each other in the eyes, they are things both of us pretend never happened. The hesitation stretches too long, and I’m to the top of the stairs before Daniel can say anything, disappearing into my old bedroom.

Michael returns, and the two boys finish stocking the kitchen as I settle back into the old bedroom. A stack of books still sit precariously against the bed frame, and old picture frames line the dresser. My heart tugs at the image of my dad and I, same eyes and smile reflected in the camera. My fingers wrap around the mahogany frame, laying the picture flat on the dresser surface until I was able to face it without feeling a pang every time I saw his face. It’s like drowning whenever I see pictures of him happy and healthy, a constant reminder of the last time I saw him. A reminder of how he didn’t look like him, and it was the last way he ever wanted me to remember him. It’s a choking feeling—the guilt.

When the first 100 pages of the novel hit my inbox, and it’s clear I won’t be falling asleep any time soon despite the clock hitting 12:23 a.m., I climb out of the full size bed quietly, passing face-down picture frames and stacks of books. I creep down to the kitchen, careful not to wake either of the boys, and pray the printer is quiet as it turns out the first 35 pages of the manuscript. With my pen tucked behind my ear and highlighter between my fingers, I head out toward the pool and settle on the cool tile. Feet dip into the warm water, and I pull the sweatshirt further down my hands. Once I’m three paragraphs into the story, the house falls away around me as I’m sucked into the words on the page before me.

“What are you reading?”

I nearly jump from my skin at the raspy voice that startles me, and I whip my head around to see Daniel leaning against the door frame. Shorts hang off his hips revealing his ever-growing thigh tattoo, and his oversized hoodie hangs loosely from his shoulders. His gold chain beneath his sweatshirt catches the nearby light, and the metal glints as he crosses his arms. I set the papers in my lap, uncapped highlighter still dangling between my fingers and itching to finish the paragraph.

“It’s from a uni student,” I answer, trying to redirect my thoughts back to the story unfolding before me. “Last year of her writing fellowship. She needs this book to make it.”

His eyes focus on me even when I turn away from him and back to the story before me. Reflections from the pool cast my side profile in a sapphire glow, and for a moment, Daniel finds himself speechless—my features soft beneath the cerulean reflections on my skin.

“It will. You’ll make sure it does. You always do.”

I turn back to him, heat rising up my neck when I feel his eyes on me. He hesitates a moment. Both of us hang in limbo when he straightens up from the threshold, choosing between going back in or taking a chance and settling next to me on the pool’s edge. The blue glow of the pool calls him forward like Gatsby’s green dock, and he perches less than half a meter away from me. His feet disturb the calm surface, and he sends ripples across the pool.

“What’s it about?”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes beneath my glasses, “It’s about a first-generation Vietnamese girl finding her way in Australia. The divide between her and her parents, her and her culture, her and the place she lives in. It’s like she’s not enough of one thing for anyone. She doesn’t really know who she is.”

“And how is it so far?” his eyebrows raise gently. Daniel catches the red pen tucked behind my ear—editor red—and holds back a grin as he remembers me as a kid with crayons tucked in the same spot as I ran to show him the racecars I used to draw for him.

“Her language is great. She has a clear voice and style.”

“But?” he prods, hearing the hitch in my voice knowing I’m not saying everything.

“The plot is lacking at times. There are holes and missed details,” I rub at my eyes again, and Daniel goes blurry across from me.

“Like I said, you’ll help her,” he smiles softly, teeth nearly as bright as the circles reflecting off the pool’s surface. “You always do.”

I’m not sure what to say to him. I’m stuck in some space between younger Callie, a hopeless romantic painfully in love with her brother’s best friend (but wasn’t he also her best friend?), and the 20-something, jaded Callie that had become the recipient of one too many drunken calls on the road. One too many admissions of I like you, but this will never work. One too many moments of realizing too little, too late. One too many failed relationships because I was too busy holding out hope for a man across the world to notice me. Is this who almost 31-year-old Callie was? Is this who I would remain?

He senses my thoughts swallowing me whole. He can just make out my eyes boring a hole into the same spot on the manuscript in front of me instead of jumping across the page as I absorb the words, tripping over myself to reach the next line before I’ve even digested the previous sentence. I’ve always read like that for as long as he can remember, even as a kid with no front teeth trying to read the newspaper his dad left on the counter during breakfast. He knows he shouldn’t ask the question weighing on him, but he lets it fly anyway. It’s an attempt to end this lingering tension that neither of us had the guts to address or the wits to understand.

“Why did you break up?”

The question hangs heavy, and my stomach rolls at the thought of hashing this out with him. I turn my head to look at him, hazel eyes meeting his darker ones, and for a moment, we hang in silence. I sigh gently as I look back at the words in my lap.

“Like you said, he was an ass,” I shrug before highlighting another line in the manuscript.

Daniel shifts in his spot as the breeze blows, noticing how I tuck my elbows into myself to try to prevent any more of the wind reaching me. He moves beneath the cover of stars, and I can’t help but glance at him from the corner of my eye as he shifts toward me, centimeters separating us as he settles back against the cool tiles. My eyes zero in on the tattoos across his exposed thigh, ink flexing over lean muscle as his feet dip back into the pool. Our eyes meet in the growing darkness, and we say nothing as I drop the highlighter between my fingers back to my lap and set the papers aside. He bumps me with his shoulder with a slight grin, and I’m secretly grateful as he blocks the wind blowing in off the sea. The only noise is his breath and the crashing waves beyond the other side of the house.

“C’mon, Cal, it’s me,” he says quietly. “I thought you were happy. Why did you break up with him?”

I didn’t love him. He knew I loved you.

I try to avoid his caramel eyes, feeling small beneath his gentle gaze. I forgot how deep his eyes were, lighter flecks mimicking the way the autumn leaves caught the setting sun and darker like an early morning espresso. I’m caught up in having him so close that my brain gets fuzzy. Our breaths fill the space between us, masked by ocean spray and his cologne full of juniper and amber. The overwhelming sensation of him all around coaxes the truth.

“I broke up with him because I didn’t love him, Dan.”

A slight grin breaks on to his face, barely tugging at the edges of his lips, “Clearly. You really thought a philosophy professor was the way to go?”

“Piss off,” I kick my foot in the water and splash him.

It’s a mistake because he retaliates, foot sending cold water splashing up my legs and goosebumps across my skin. Daniel is laughing wildly only centimeters away from me when I shriek for him to stop. I throw my hair back away from my face, golden strands turning silver in the moonlight, and pull my feet from the water.

“You’re an ass, too. You know that?”

He’s wiping his legs of water, and his shorts cling to his body where the water droplets stick to his skin. I blow on the manuscript in my lap, trying to keep the droplets from smearing any additional ink across the sheets. His laughter quickly ebbs when he sees my shivering, and he mutters an apology as he reaches for the towel he lugged out here with him. I flip him off weakly with a laugh as he drapes the towel across my shoulders. I catch another whiff of his familiar scent—like the earth after a heavy rain.

“So you didn’t love him?”

I nod my head, “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Silence stretches between us. Whether he accepts my answer or not isn’t clear, and he stares out at the pool. Somehow we’ve been drawn together, like a cycle every time we’re at this house, and his shoulder presses against mine and our knees touch. It’s some twisted game of chicken—like if either of us pulls away we’re admitting we notice each other beyond our 10-year-old selves. Butterflies don’t erupt the way they used to, but a hollow feeling grows instead. One full of longing and what-ifs.

“I’m happy we’re here,” he says quietly, running fingers through his unruly hair. “I’m happy you made it.”

I’m caught off guard by his honest words, and despite the feeling bursting in my chest, guilt worms its way through my gut and into the rest of me. Memories from this house flood me—all of them full of a bright-eyed Callie, hoping for love, and her seemingly invincible father. Memories of a younger Daniel. Memories of things being easy. I shake my head as the images take root, and I clear my throat as I speak.

“It’s not the same, though, is it?” He tries to answer, but I cut him off suddenly as a wave of emotion threatens to come over me. “I should get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Callie,” he calls as I gather my stuff, breaking away from the spell of Daniel as I rush toward the door. “You know you can talk to me, yeah?”

I pause at the doorway, barely glancing over my shoulder at him, “I know. Goodnight, Dan.”

Day 2 of 19

I groan when I’m woken by the motorbikes whizzing by beneath my window, and I bury my head deeper into the pillows as I pull the duvet up over my shoulder. Despite beating Daniel to bed last night, my brain didn’t stop. I tossed and turned, and I even read the full 100 page manuscript before my eyes would even start to feel heavy. Birds were chirping by the time I finally fell asleep.

I throw the covers off and roll from the bed when the engines seem to grow louder, amplified by Michael and Daniel’s laughter layering over top of it. I part the curtains just enough to see them beneath the house, their bikes treading that familiar path they used to take nearly every day as kids. Daniel laughs loudly as Michael spins out on the orange dirt, and he continues his path before circling back toward the house. A soft smile spreads as I watch them, and after a few minutes, Daniel looks up to see me at my window. His smile spreads as he catches me, and he motions for me to open my window. Despite my embarrassment at being caught and the blush rising on my cheeks, I open the creaky pane, bracing my arms around myself for the cool breeze to rush in.

“The bike’s warmed up for you!” he taunts with his broad smile, no traces of animosity from the night before. “I know you’re never one to turn down showing us up.”

Michael laughs at the comment, still dusting dirt from his clothes, as I roll my eyes. Goosebumps prickle my skin as the breeze blows, and my palms flatten against my biceps.

“You two haven’t changed one bit. It’s 9:30 in the morning,” I huff despite the laugh coming through my words. “At least give me some time for coffee.”

“He already got you some,” Michael grins. “Keeping it warm down on the counter. You still drink flat whites?”

Daniel is red now. Cheeks flushed pink, not from the chill in the air, and hand ruffling his curls beneath his hood. Warmth floods me at the notion, and I just nod my head at Michael’s question. He calls for me to hurry up and get ready, and not to forgot the coffee on the counter. I huff in agreement, and I’m grateful once I finally shut the window for the breeze to stop. I can’t ignore the bubbling feeling in my chest as my fingers wrap around the coffee cup on the counter. Greenhouse Cafe. My favorite coffee shop in the little beach town, and one of the few places still open in the winter months. Daniel had remembered my favorite drink from my favorite shop, and he somehow made time this morning to get one. Guilt rears its ugly head as I remember how I shut down on him last night, but I bury the feelings before taking the cup out to the stretch of path with me.

“There she is!” Michael calls as I appear, and Daniel whizzes by on his bike before halting to a stop.

Dirt kicks up where his bike screeches, and he laughs at himself as he lurches forward with the force of the brakes. He glances at the coffee cup in my hand, and his grin remains as I take a sip from the paper cup. The coffee is even better than I remembered, and my eyes shut for a moment as the warmth of the drink spreads.

“As good as you remembered?”

I nod my head, taking another sip before opening my eyes, “Even better.”

We linger for a moment just looking at each, and it feels like our words are leading us down a dangerous path—one we’ve faced before. Our strange spell is broken when Michael approaches, his bike whirring as he comes to a rolling stop.

“Here’s the real question,” Michael grins. “When’s the last time you rode?”

I rack my brain, trying to remember the last time I tried to keep up with them, “I think two and a half years ago. Dan’s farm when lockdown hit.”

“No riding with Professor Philosophy?” Daniel quips.

It’s a challenge if I’ve ever heard one. His eyes don’t leave my face, and he grins as my jaw nearly drops at his comment. After a moment of processing his challenge, I fling out the coffee cup toward him to hold.

“Alright, give me the bike,” I force the cup into his hands as he steps off the bike.

Both boys grin as I throw a leg over the seat, settling into the handlebars for the first time in a few years. It’s like muscle memory as my fingers curl over the handlebar, and Michael says something about remembering where the throttle is. I’m gone before he can even finish his sentence, kicking dirt up at the two of them as I skid down the path on the small two-wheeler. Cold wind bites at my cheeks, but I push on the path as a smile breaks out on my face. I’m a kid again, trying to remember all the steps of steering while also staying on the path, and my grin grows as I fly by the two boys. They laugh as they watch me, and Daniel throws his head back with laughter as Michael elbows his side. My showboating continues once I get more comfortable on the bike, and Daniel is even calling for a wheelie. I respond with my middle finger before spinning in the dirt.

Daniel taught me to ride a dirtbike when I was six and he was eight. He ignored my brother’s requests in order to teach me, and Jack was mad at him for a week. I imagine Jack was annoyed at Daniel for that every winter following because once I knew how to ride, I begged them to give me a turn or let me follow them down the paths. Jack never wanted to let his little sister follow, but Daniel always made time for me to chase them down. His smile would split his face in half when I’d manage to pull off a trick he tried to teach me or I caught up with Jack. Most of the time, I was quicker than my brother, and Daniel wasn’t one to let him live that down.

When I fly back past where they were standing, Michael is standing alone with no sight of Daniel. My coffee cup is in Michael’s hand, and I slow to a stop in front of him. I can see Daniel just through the french doors peering into the kitchen as he paces back and forth along the hardwood floors.

“Duty calls?” I ask, taking my cup back from Michael as he stretches his arm out toward me.

He nods, glancing back at his friend, “I was hoping he would genuinely get a break. It seems it never stops.”

Daniel continues his pacing in the kitchen, one hand waving while he talks and the other keeping his phone pressed to his ear. While Daniel looked better than ever when I pulled up toward the house yesterday, I noticed the bags beneath his eyes darker than usual last night. The light of the sapphire pool cast shadows on his face, and the purple crescents under his eyes were telling of the stress of the season. He looked tired despite the near-constant smile on his face, and the lines on his forehead seemed deeper than before. Guilt suddenly chokes me as I think about the missed calls, sparing text messages and missed weekends.

“I wish I could have come to Aus GP,” I say. “Give at least a pep talk or some extra encouragement.”

“He missed you,” Michael agrees. “I know you text him before races every weekend, though.”

“He told you?” I ask, eyes still following the driver as he paces the kitchen floor.

Michael grins, letting out a knowing sigh as he speaks, “No, but you just did. I see how he waits to hand his phone over for the race, and he smiles at whatever it is he’s waiting for. It’s like clockwork.”

My stomach drops and face turns red, and the guilt for not texting him in time for Monaco overwhelms me, “He waits for them?”

“You stay up that late just for him?” Michael throws back at me, eyebrows raised as our eyes meet. We’re silent as we look at each other, and I take another sip of my coffee to distract myself from Micahel’s scrutiny. He sighs as he looks back at his friend, “You know, it’s clear something happened with you two. I don’t know what and I don’t know when, but whatever it is, I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad you’re both here. Maybe you’ll figure it out.”

“Figure out what exactly?” my brows are raised despite the gnawing feeling in my stomach.

Michael shrugs his shoulders as he looks back to me from his friend still chatting on the phone in the kitchen, “You tell me, Cal. You’re only one of two people who know everything.” I freeze at his words, and before I can try to come up with an answer, he’s reaching for his bike, “Let’s go. Give him some space for a bit.”

“He’ll be okay?” my voice is nearly a whisper, eyes still on Daniel as he leans against the kitchen island, phone still pressed to his ear.

Michael nods his head, “He’ll talk about whatever it is when he’s ready.”

Michael is the first to pull away from the house. I try to remind myself that he knows Daniel better than me—they’re practically attached at the hip throughout the year. Something tugs at me, though, and I linger for a moment. Daniel rubs a hand down his face, fingers pulling at the stubble on his jaw, as he listens to whatever is happening on the other side of the phone. When the whir of Michael’s bike stops, I propel forward to catch up to him, leaving Daniel behind in the empty house.

My worries for Daniel ease as I zip through paths we used to take as kids, and Michael’s laughter becomes contagious as navigating the terrain becomes muscle memory. This was one of the few things that made me feel entirely free as a kid. Wind whipping through my hair as I chased the older boys down, salt air sticking to my sweatshirt as we zipped through the sand and dirt. Books made me feel free, too—the stories that would suck me in and I’d forget everything around me. The boys used to tease me when I sat by the pool for hours in the same spot. My brother could only get my attention when he cannonballed into the pool and drenched my seat. When we arrive back at the house, forearms sore from getting used to the bike again and my loose bangs knotted, Daniel is still in the kitchen on the phone. He is slumped in a kitchen chair, eyes squinting as he takes in whatever he’s being told. Michael asks me to wait, and he sneaks into the house silently to grab his keys. I watch as the two make eye contact, and with no more than a simple nod of his head, Daniel confirms something to Michael before he shuts the doors behind him.

Michael was always the mediator—always knowing exactly what each person needed and how to best balance those needs. Today is no exception. It’s clear he’s trying to give Daniel the space and solitude he needs to handle whatever it is that is blowing up his phone, and he’s also trying to distract me from worrying about Daniel’s seemingly intense phone call. Our day reminds me of our final winter at Madfish Bay. It wasn’t really our last winter. That was the winter before—the last winter with Daniel. That final winter was just me and Michael with Jack and Michelle off at university, and we hung out with my and Daniel’s parents more than anything else. It was a slow trip, and while Michael and I had been close before we spent our entire vacation together, something about that final winter bonded us even further. We both missed Daniel who had moved to Europe, and we got to tell each other secrets like little kids pulling an all-nighter in the living room. My intense crush on Daniel was pretty obvious over the years at the house, but that final trip with Michael was when I really got to admit it and talk about it. Michael had even admitted that he knew Daniel had kissed me in year 10 and I was year 9. Daniel had told him and made him swear to never tell Jack. We laughed all night about that, and I divulged every detail to Michael even when he covered his ears and turned bright red at the thought of his two best friends snogging at a beach bonfire.

That final trip with just the two of us made our friendship what it is—one with no hiccups or judgment, and one with an unspoken understanding for the others emotions. It’s why it is quiet in the car, just some playlist sounding gently over the speakers. Thoughts of Daniel guiltily eat away at me. I shut him out last night, and even though I’m the one who wishes to leave everything buried in the past, pretending nothing ever happened makes everything more difficult. The divide I worked so hard to create to keep from repeating our last disastrous end is crumbling. All of my defenses shatter any time he’s near, no matter how many times the pattern repeats itself. My forehead creases, a deep line between my brows that Daniel had figured out years before, and I stare out at the passing sea. I’m grateful for Michael’s silence, letting me dive headfirst into my thoughts before he inevitably pulls me back out. The seaside turns to rocky cliffs, and the main street of town comes into view. The familiar Greenhouse Cafe sign looms in the distance, and he throws the car into park before turning to me.

“We’ll grab something for lunch to go,” he smiles gently, pulling me out from spiraling thoughts. “When’s the last time you’ve been to Mackenzie's Rock?”

“Last time you and I went,” I answer, a smile tugging at my lips at the memory. “We got so pissed I had to call my parents to come pick us up. Dad drove your car home.”

Michael laughs so hard at the memory he snorts, “Oh my god, Daniel’s parents were telling him the story before we even woke up. His mum had called him.”

I laugh now, cherishing this added perspective to the memory hazy from drunkenness, “I think I poured my heart out to you about three different times that night.”

“Always the sentimental one,” Michael teases as we climb out of his car.

The cafe has been renovated since the last time I crossed the hardwood floors, and somehow, the place still reminds me of simpler times. It smells the same—roasted coffee filling the space in a way that makes my mouth water. A teenager is tucked in the corner against the bay window, her shoulder bumping the glass as she turns the pages in her book, and an older couple picks pieces from a pastry in between them as they chat about the happenings of the small town. The warm tones of the cafe offer a reprieve from the dreary day, and I grin as Michael and I order from the younger barista. I add on another flat white for the trip, doubling down on my choice as Michael glances at me, tossing in a comment about already having one. I place the bag with our food by my feet, hands relishing in the warmth from the coffee cup, as Michael pulls back on to the seaside stretch of road. We share conversation this time, recalling memories of our time here as teens and sharing details about our less-shared adult lives.

I tell him about some of the ex-boyfriends and horror-movie worthy hookups, and he laughs so hard he’s wiping tears from his eyes. I try my best to avoid the discussion of the philosophy professor for fear that I’ll be as honest as I was last night. The last thing I need is to admit I still love Daniel. Michael tells me about his life on the road with Daniel. The two are in such close quarters all the time that Michael has become uniquely acquainted with the sight of Daniel’s ass, and I’m gasping for breath through my laughter as Michael tells stories about his time with the driver. They still act like their teenage selves when they’re together despite pushing past 30, and a part of me takes comfort in knowing they haven’t changed. They’re still their fun-loving, adrenaline-seeking, goofy selves.

Waves crash beneath us as Michael carries the bag with our food to the edge of the rock ledge, “Do you feel weird being back?”

My feet dangle off the ledge as I settle on the rocky surface, and I nod gently as I watch the tide roll in beneath us, “It’s difficult. So much has changed not just since our last time here, but since the last time I’ve been with both of you. I feel like I’m not who I used to be or if I even know who I am anymore.”

He passes me my lunch from the bag, “You know, he was nervous to ask you to come back for this. He almost chickened out right at the end. He thought there were too many memories here that would make you upset.”

A thought dawns on me—Daniel was the one who initiated this trip, not Michael as I had been led to believe. I set my food on my lap before turning to Michael, “I thought this trip was your idea.”

Michael freezes under my gaze, and he sighs as his shoulders curl in, “He’s so going to kill me, but this was his idea, Cal. This is how badly he needed a break from everything, but he wouldn’t admit it. I thought if I took it over to look like my idea, he’d relax a bit more.”

“He looks tired,” I concede, mumbling over my coffee. “I noticed it last night. He looks so exhausted and so unlike himself. I try to keep up with everything without asking him too many questions.”

Michael nods, biting his lip at the smirk trying to break on to his face, “Last night?”

I freeze this time. Despite having nothing to hide and no reason to feel secretive about our encounter last night, my stomach churns. My nails pick at the cardboard sleeve on the cup, “I couldn’t sleep so I was sitting by the pool trying to get some work in. Dan must have felt the same. We talked a bit.”

“Like I said, Cal, I hope you two figure it out,” Michael whispers as a finality to the topic of Daniel.

We eat our lunch in silence, taking in the winter waves around us. Birds squawk overhead sparingly, and the gray sky morphs to an eggshell blue. The faintest reminders of the sun as it cuts through wispy clouds ribboned across the sky. My brain drifts to memories of my final winter with Daniel, and my dad brought me out here to get away from the noise of the house. We were tucked away on the rock ledge, hands shoved in pockets from the breeze and tears threatening to freeze on my lashes.

“I feel selfish for not wanting him to leave,” I admit, looking down at my feet dangling over the ledge. “I know that he has to and this is his dream, but I still don’t want him to leave me.”

Dad hesitates for a moment, “That’s not selfish, honey. It’s honest. I’m not sure any of us want Daniel to leave, but if it means he gets a shot at what he loves, we have to let him go.”

“He’s moving across the world, Dad,” my voice cracks, throat burning as I speak. “I’m not going to get to see him or call him. He’ll be busy training, and I want him to do well, but I don’t want to lose him.”

“You’re not losing him, Callie. He’s moving, not dying,” Dad answers matter-of-factly. “Plus, the two of you care about each other too much to lose each other.”

“Not just me, Dad. What about Michael and Jack? What happens to them? What happens to all of us after this?” My voice is shaking now as I turn into crying as the weight of the situation hits me. Everything is changing whether I’m ready for it or not.

Dad looks to me now, alarmed by the fat tears flowing freely down my cheeks now. I never cry, and I never show my weak side as Jack called it. It’s part of growing up with the boys. I wipe at my eyes with my hands covered by my sweatshirt sleeves, angry at myself for letting my emotion show over something so seemingly stupid, “Nothing is ever going to be the same after this trip, is it? I’m not ready for everything to change.”

“Oh, honey, let it out,” Dad whispers as he pulls me into his side. He lets me cry into his chest, sobs falling past my lips as I smear snot and tears on his jacket. His arms hold me up as I cry, rubbing soothing circles on my back while I blubber. My cool girl facade crumbles, and I turn into my father’s little girl—messy braids and missing teeth instead of broken hearts and complicated feelings. He doesn’t judge for crying over Daniel’s looming departure, and while it’s clear there is some force akin to love behind my outburst, he doesn’t question it. Once my sobbing has ebbed into sniffles, he smooths my hair at the back of my head, “Things are always changing, Callie. It’s not about how we prepare for them, but it’s about how we react to them. Life isn’t so predictable all the time.”

“How did you do it when Mom left?” my voice is muffled with me still pressed to his jacket. “When she had to go to London for a year, before me. How did you do it?”

“Oh, it was hard. I thought about her every day, and it felt like every minute at first,” he recalls. “But she knew I loved her, and I knew she loved me. I think deep down we knew we’d always make it back to each other. Whether it was immediately or not, we knew it was destined. All the signs were there.”

A part of me eases at his confession, hearing a softer side of my dad that he kept reserved for just me and Mom. He knew I wanted to be the untouchable, tough girl with busted knees from skateboard tricks and a mean wheelie on a motorbike, but deep down, I was still his little girl. A girl who was scared of the dark, loved sinking into a good book, and cried on her Dad’s shoulder when there was no one else around. I wasn’t Jack who responded best to a half-hearted jab and a flying curse word no matter how hard I tried to be. Even Mom with her easy tone and doting tendencies didn’t get it. Dad always gets it. He sees as me as his sensitive girl even when everyone else sees me as an adrenaline-seeking, wheelie-popping, tough-as-nails tomboy.

“Sometimes, I think I was born to love her,” he says quietly after a stretching silence. My cries had stopped, but my sniffling remains as his hands rub my back gently. “And then you came around. I was born to love you both, before either of you ever even came into my life. You both redefined love for me. I knew that no matter what, you’d both know you were loved. You are loved, Callie, by a hell of a lot of people, but we’ll start with me and your mother.”

Tears threaten to overcome me again. Dad saves his sentimental side for special moments, and his confession that I taught him how to love wraps me in another embrace apart from his arms around me. His voice continues softly, accompanied by the crashing waves beneath us and his beating heart beneath his down jacket.

“You have so much to give, honey. You’re teaching Daniel, Michael, and even Jack how to love, too. I know you won’t think that, but you are. You feel deeply, even if you don’t like to admit it,” his words tug at my heart. “It’s okay to try to hide it, Callie, but I think you should embrace it. Especially before Daniel leaves. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

He sees right through me. I can’t even bring myself to answer, but my tears return in wracking sobs against him. His tightens his arms around me, smoothing my windswept hair at the back of my head.

“I know, Callie. Let it out,” he coos, letting the crashing waves beneath us drown out my crying. “You’re allowed to feel.”

“Callie?” Michael says gently, hand on my shoulder.

I’m ripped from my memory, quickly feeling the tear on my cheek and wiping it away quickly with my sweatshirt sleeve. Embarrassment curls its way into my gut as Michael watches me, “Sorry. Dad brought me here one time.”

His hand tightens on my shoulder in an act of comfort, and my words are enough to explain my sudden shift in mood. My eyes stay focused on the crashing waves as he brings his hand back to his jacket pocket. He lets the silence settle for a moment, enough to let me return back to a present headspace from my lingering thoughts.

“You can talk to me about him, Cal,” he says quietly, as if the mention of him might break me. “Whenever you feel like you’re ready, and whatever capacity it is, you can talk to me about it.”

I nod my head robotically, “Thanks, Michael. I know. When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

When we arrive back the house, Daniel is jogging around the stretch of beach beneath the house. He glances when he hears the car pull up, but he puts his earphone back in and heads down without a wave as he continues down the rocky shore. Michael reassures me he’ll be fine and that he’ll talk when he’s ready, but a part of me feels disappointed when he dives deeper into his private world and leaves me and Michael on our own. We leave dinner out for him for whenever he returns from his private training session, and I climb toward my room without another glance at him.

Night falls and I’m called to the blue-green glow of the pool, toes tucked beneath a blanket and fingers grasping the edges of the manuscript. I secretly despise the looming quiet of the night pressing around me. I can’t focus as I read the same page over and over, uncapped red pen dangling from my fingers loosely. My brain can’t help but play memories of Dad and a younger Daniel on a loop, unrelated moments crossing paths in new ways, and I find my eyes drifting to the spot where Daniel sat just the night before.

Tonight, he doesn’t join me, and in a rare break in my facade, I let myself feel. Tears smearing the page and anxiety manifesting as chewed lips and raw nail beds. I let myself feel it all.

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#daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fic #august #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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idkelly · 8 months

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RED NAILS

• Lalo salamanca x fem!reader, with some nacho too (best of both worlds), HEAVY on slowburn, and i love hurt comfort so bear with me

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

CHAPTER TWO

The casino was a safe space, for (Yn) at least, because it was her favorite skill—gambling and playing with predictions and percentages. She was known for it, and everyone knew her hands always pulled the best cards in the game.

Yes, the new Mexico casino was nothing like the one back home in Mexico, but business is business. Walking in, she didn’t grab any attention, which was better for her sake at the moment.

Only her father and brothers knew of her existence right now, plus Mike and a few others. but to the outside world, the new family was long gone from the public’s eye.

She hummed along to the music as she made her way to the back office, opening the door slowly, "Pa?"

“Hola bonita," as always, a cigarette was between his fingers and a book was spread in front of him. The lights were pretty dim, and the doctor told him it was better for his eyesight.

"I found him."

"Varga?"

"Hmm, when’s the next step?"

"Tomorrow"

It was perfect. The plan and her needs were aligned. Her car needed a checkup, and she herself needed to check up on someone.

She found herself at the front desk of Ignacio's dad's workshop, and she was quite surprised he had some good business going despite his age.

“Hola," the old man greeted her as soon as he heard the bell ring.

"Hola. ¿Cómo estás?"

"Welcome. How can I help you?" He switched to English so fast, do I really look that white-washed?

"I was hoping to get a checkup on my car."

He nodded and turned to the back, where he yelled his son's name, telling him to go up front.

(Yn) couldn’t help but smile when she saw the look on his face when he recognized her; his steps slowed for a second as he gathered his thoughts as to what she was doing here.

The man brought his son only to be a translator between the two; therefore, Yn didn’t need to show her ability to speak Spanish.

In the middle of talking, the dad was called back in. with an apologetic look, he said, "I'm sorry, Senorita. My son will help you, okay?" and with that, he walked off.

"How’d you find me?"

(Yn) scoffed, looking to the side, though she could feel Ignacio's stare burn holes through her skull.

"Why are you here?"

"I can't get my car checked out now?."

The man kisses his teeth in annoyance. What the hell was she doing here? "We both know you’re not here just for that."

"Well, a little birdie told me that not only you’re a drug dealer, you’re also a card thief. I mean, shit, if you wanted some, I would’ve given you my Pokemon collection; it’s very exclusive."

If someone were to animate the view from (Yn)’s eyes, they would’ve drawn steam out of Ignacio's ears.

"I'm just saying you underestimated how big of an idiot you were. He went to the police for those cards, and now they’re snooping around."

"Sounds like you have a problem, young lady," he said, taking a step back, ready to leave.

"First of all, it’s an us problem; second of all, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you," he continued along his way until she stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Are you really not that scared of Tuco Salamanca?"

And there he is again, right in front of Yn, with his hands crossed over his chest.

"I know you don’t play ball, so to speak, and Tuco finds out about your little side business. I think we both know the end to that."

"Who are you?" he finally asked; that question had been on his mind for the whole day yesterday.

"Me? I'm nobody," same dumb smile she always uses.

"To put an end to this before it even starts, you give me the baseball cards, 10,000 in cash, and you net roughly $60,000."

Ignacio chuckled then went back to his serious face, "And how exactly does that work?"

(Yn) stayed quiet for a bit, saying, "Before I continue, you really have amazing eyelashes, im jealous."

Well, that took him by surprise; he didn’t show it obviously, but still, it startled him. However, his thoughts were soon interrupted by her continuing her speech.

He was impressed by her plan, and more so by her way of convincing him so easily to take part in it.

What stood out about her to him was the way she held eye contact; sure, it was common in the business to establish power and shit, But with her, it was almost more to get even with whoever she was looking at. He couldn’t put a finger on how he felt about it, her.

(Yn) wasn’t there when the final deal was happening, but Mike was, and she told him about the plan as she dropped him off near where he worked; it wasn't hard to find that one either.

The rest of the day she spent at the casino with her brothers; her father was now back home. The place was her brother's, where she was carrying out her business, which was her casino back in Mexico.

Here, the family was invisible, though; it wasn’t common knowledge who owned this place.

After a few hours, Yn finally decided to head back home to her cat and maybe watch a movie while cuddling. The woman’s schedule was really, really empty; she could do as she pleased day and night.

As she unlocked the door, she could hear her cat calling her through the kitchen, but instead of coming to her, she had to fully realize who was sitting down on her sofa.

hard eyes.

"Do you want coffee or tea?" she said as she kicked off her shoes and walked over to the kitchen.

"Is this really your response to finding a stranger in your home?"

"A stranger is someone you don’t know."

A scoff could be heard, along with footsteps indicating he followed her to where she was; to his surprise, she was already making dinner, pasta, he presumed. with two plates set on the table.

Was she serious? "Well, I don’t know you."

"So you willingly barged into a stranger's home, pretty clever," she laughed. "Did you follow me?"

“No, I dug a bit and found you," she couldn’t help but laugh more at his attempt.”I noticed the van that was following me yesterday, plus, if you dug around about me, you wouldn’t be here."

"Why are you here, anyway?" she said as she filled up the two plates with salsa and set the remaining in the middle if either of them had wanted seconds.

He sat down, examining the dish. It was nicely made and fairly appetizing, especially after a long day of work. On the other side of the table, she sat leaning over to him, and there it is, her stare.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Stare"

"Does it bother you?"

It was definitely a no, but he couldn’t say that, and on the other hand, he couldn’t say yes either.

"Does Tuco not pay you enough so you make money on the side?" With that, Ignacio let out a big sigh and set his utensils aside.

"The problem isn’t my salary or anything; Tuco is a ticking time bomb; he didn’t mind putting a bullet between a guy’s eyes just because he got a weird look from him, let alone me."

"Your face has good bone structure; keep it that way," she said as she slipped the pasta into her mouth again. He didn’t know if these were compliments or not; she didn’t say them in a flirtatious manner, definitely more like she stated facts from a powerpoint presentation.

After a moment of silence, he said, "Your cooking is amazing; where’d you learn it from?" She could tell he liked it by how he was devouring what was presented in front of him.

"My father’s an amazing cook, but I was the only one who got his talent; my two brothers

They learned to gamble from me instead."

So she does have a family. Though she was an orphan or something.

"gamble?"

"Yes! My favorite hobby is real. I could do it for hours, plus I know all the tricks."

"okay show me sumn' "

"I’m in a good mood today, so I'll show you a few."

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and jokes. (Yn) gave the guy a lesson on games and cheats while his eyes filled with interest in what she was showing him, but either way, they both knew the night had to come to an end.

As Ignacio was at the door, ready to step out, he looked back to the woman who had greeted him goodbye a few seconds earlier, sitting on her couch peacefully petting her cat while watching TV. He really forgot why he came here in the first place.

Yn'’s mind filled with what she could do now to avoid her boredom, but as soon as she received a certain voice call from a specific person, she knew the next few days were going to be eventful.

She watched as Krazy-8 walked out of that door looking like his legs were about to give out at any given moment, yet he was sure fast enough to drive away in his vehicle. giving Yn her moment to shine.

She dresses nicely for the occasion for once, letting her hair down and doing her makeup, just taking care of herself before this whole shitshow goes down.

Parking her car next to Tuco’s and purposely bumping into it a little bit was the easy part; now she has to go in and embrace what’s going to happen.

Tuco was already staring at her in disbelief; he definitely saw what happened through the big classroom window, looking absolutely furious, while Nacho turned around after a few seconds and did his heart drop— is she everywhere?

"Hey!" She heard Tuco call out when she walked by their table to the register, but she pretended she didn’t hear them.

"Hello! Um.. can I get the number four, please, on the go?" She said this while smiling to the man before her, who went to work right away in order to avoid the scene that was about to happen.

"Yo chica, hey," she felt a hand guide her to turn around as she was met by none other than Tuco, who stood beside him, Ignacio. "You just hit my car."

"Huh? I hit your car?" Tuce chuckled at Varga. This bitch’s acting dumb.

"See, that car that you parked your piece of shit next to?" That’s mine, and you’ve just run into it."

"Oh well, I guess I could’ve and I didn’t notice, so my apologies, sir," she smiled and turned around, collecting her order and mumbling a small thank you before rushing out.

She could hear Tuco yelling not to get away from him, but the altercation needed to happen outside.

"Don’t you walk away from me!" Ay, puta!"

All the talking was done by the salamanca, while Varga stayed awfully quiet. Even Tuco noticed a slight change in demeanor on his end.

"You see that! You did that!" he said, pointing to the tiniest dent known to mankind.

"That’ll buff right out, now if you’ll excuse me—

As she was getting ready to open her car door, she felt a hand grab her by the shoulder and swing her all the way around, face to face with Tuco.

"You’re not leaving until you pay for this."

"If money is all you need, I've got great insurance."

Once again, with his hand that’s still glued to her, he shakes her to stop talking that nonsense.

"I ain’t messing around with no insurance, bitch, cash."

"Listen, I've barely got cash on me, so if you just give me your information, I’ll send it to you through insurance."

Thud. Now (Yn) was sandwiched between Tuco salamanca and a wall; her head began to hurt already; maybe doing this herself was a bad idea, but she knew Mike would follow up with the deal, and she couldn’t let that happen; it won’t help her in the long run, and she needed all the salamanca alive.

So she'd have a black eye from one of them—not a big deal.

"You’re pretty, but a pretty awful liar." "I saw your wallet earlier; you've got plenty."

"That’s for my rent; it’s due today, and I can’t— ugh

Tuco’s ring was sure to leave a mark on Yn'’s cheek. Her head is already spinning. Why do I do this to myself?

"Just give him the money." This time it was Ignacio who spoke; no emotions were displayed, though his voice was almost like a whisper.

(Yn) looked at him and then forward to meet the loco eyes of Tuco Salamanca. she chuckled.

"I ain’t giving you shit."

The police sirens could be heard coming this way. "It’s time to bounce," Ignacio said, but his partner didn’t budge; instead, he ordered Nacho to leave and let him finish this business.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca smut #ignacio varga #nacho varga #nacho varga reader #better call saul

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multifandom-simp-page · 1 year

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Hi, is me again, I hope you're well and everything is fine. Since you said that you want to do a part 2 of adult!Atreus x freya'sdaughter!reader (my God this name is so long lmao)I been thinking a whole night literally of what can be in the second part, and if I'm honest I have a lot ideas but idk who to put in order.

The first I want to clear is that, this is a slowburn. So here is the idea I have thinking:

After a day of their reunion, reader ask atreus if he can' join her to fish, then one of them fall off the river and the other laugh, they play with the water even they are adults they still had fun. After that they return to the house and Freya is there, atreus decide to go visit his father, and Freya after notice how her daughter act when she is with atreus, she decide to talk about the situation, like a mother and daughter talk.

IDK IF THIS IS TOO SPECIFIC, I try lol but yeah like I said I had a lot of ideas and I wanted to give it to you, i want you to explore the relationship of reader and Odin, if he is the father, maybe you can do this in the future if you decide it of course. Is like is a mess I'm my head, maybe this is a start point idk.

Again, do it of you feel confident and if you have the time, don't over task. Again thank, have a nice day♡

I. Am. OBSESSED.

Its 1 am and I would love to start working on this rn but I know I’ll be up all night if I do, so tomorrow I’m gonna start working on this because I LOVE THIS.

You mentioned slow burn and I am totally down with that, I hate it when fics feel rushed and I would love to write their relationship through multiple fics if that’s something people would want to read.

But yes, I’m gonna start this ASAP and I’m gonna take my goddamn time to make sure this is the most beautiful piece of work you will ever read. Because you are lovely and deserve it <3

Thank you SOOOO MUCH! For the request, I was thinking of some ways to write another part and this is my FAVORITE. Again gonna jump on this as soon as I can. Have a lovely day or night

#atreus x reader #adult!atreus x reader #gow loki #gow ragnarok #I LOVE YOU #YOUR REQUESTS MAKE MY DAY #please take care of yourself

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anomaly-hivemind · 1 year

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Sweater Holders|| Tanjiro x Inosuke

Chapter Three, Chapter Five

Warnings: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe Angst, Bottom!Inosuke, Breeding, College!Au, Cuddles, Douma, Fluff, Gae, Himbos, MDNI, Mental Comfort, Mutual Pining, Potential Gore, Top!Tanjiro, Virgin, Biting, Body Worship, Bottom, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, if you know you know, Inotan, Teacher!Muzan, Slowburn, Smut, Tanjiro'S BigAssForehead, Top

Chapter Four

YKWIM? - Yot Club, this weird call i received last night - knonzzz

Inosuke's mind was a flurry of emotions. Since yesterday, he felt his heart beating a mile a minute. He had never felt like that before and found himself more distracted.

Inosuke tried to focus as he practiced his routine, his eyes locking onto the ornate red tapestry Tengen had hung up in the dance studio.

That red is nice, even if the vase is ugly, Inosuke thought as he turned.

"The color sorta looks like-"

Before he could finish his thought, he was cut off by his instructor Tengen Uzui making his grand entrance as he does every day.

"It is I, the God of Flashiness and Festivals! Tengen Uzui! Those were very flashy pirouettes, Inosuke. Are you excited for the upcoming showcase?"

"Yeah, sure," Inosuke replied before starting from the top.

Well, that's not his usual demeanor, Tengen thought. Tengen looked over to his wives, assistant instructors for the class, for any clue about what could be happening. They shrugged before walking away to ready themselves for when the rest of the class arrived.

Inosuke did his set slow, his body moving methodically to the beat of the music. His every movement felt less calculated as the music went on. He wasn't messing up any of the motions, but he wasn't putting in the same effort as the days before.

"Inosuke, can you come here for a moment," Tengen called, waving him over as the song died in the background.

"Yes,"

"Are you not feeling well today?" Tengen asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

"I'm good, "

"You sure? You can talk to me if you need, Inosuke." Tengen patted his back lightly.

"I'm fine, Uzui, sir, just thinking a lot." Inosuke shrugged slightly.

"You're thinking! That's a first," Makio joked aloud.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Inosuke scoffed at her, giving Makio a playful side-eye.

"Oh, nothing." Makio whistled and walked behind Tengen. Suma and Hinatsuru just shook their heads as they listened to the conversation.

"Whatever," Inosuke said, rolling his eyes.

"What have you been thinking about, Inosuke?" Hinatsuru voiced softly behind Inosuke.

"I'll tell you whenever I figure it out myself."

"So you've been thinking but don't know what about." Makio burst into laughter for a second before Hinatsuru hit her in the back of the head.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, whatever it is," Suma called out to Inosuke.

Inosuke let out a short sigh as he listened to everyone talk. He could deal with what was distracting him later. He couldn't let this strange feeling affect his daily performance in class, or he wouldn't get anything done. He had bigger things to deal with, like the upcoming showcase.

"Why don't you do some stretches, and I'm going to set up the reps I have planned.

"Alright, sensei."

Inosuke walked back to his original area and began doing deep stretches. He grabbed his leg from behind and pulled it up slowly before letting go and doing the other leg. Taking a seat on the floor in a V-shape, he leaned forward between them, his face dusting the floor.

As the tension eased from his muscles, so did the unordinary thoughts in his mind. He could worry about what was making him feel strange later; right now, it was about perfecting his routine for the showcase.

Gradually the others came, and class started. They did their usual warm-ups and then transitioned to practicing their group routine for the showcase.

“That was very good, everyone, don’t forget to practice, and we don’t have class tomorrow,” Tengen said, voice projecting loudly across the room.

“Make sure to get some rest, everyone,” Hinatsuru yelled out to the class as they walked outside the dance room.

Inosuke grabbed his bag out of the cubbies and slumped against the wall. Swiftly reaching around to the deep canvas pockets, he pulled out his water and chugged half the bottle down.

“Hey, I noticed you seem a little spacey today; everything okay?” Inosuke looked up to see one of his classmates, Koyuki Soyama.

“I’m fine, Soyama, just thinking,” Inosuke said, looking down into his lap.

Koyuki sat beside him, the thin layer of sweat glistening on her pale forehead. “It must be something pretty troubling then; you’ve never been this quiet,”

“I don’t even know, though, and it’s- ugh! It’s pissing me off!”Inosuke scoffs aloud; he hated not being in control of his mind. It made him feel stupid in a way.

“Well, It always helps to talk about it. Why don’t you try explaining to me,” Koyuki said, giving Inosuke a reassuring smile.

Before Inosuke could even get a word out, a voice called for Koyuki from the doorway.

“Ah, Hakuji!” Koyuki exclaimed as she shot up to her feet. “Sorry, Inosuke, I gotta jet, but I hope you feel better.”

Inosuke groaned before standing up and heading out. Talk out his feelings? Who would wanna listen to his bullshit? He thought. Suddenly his stomach growled.

“Welp, time for lunch, I guess,” Inosuke said to himself.

As Inosuke exited the building and crossed the courtyard, the icy November breeze blew through his hair. Man, I wish I had a scarf. Inosuke thought as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to create some heat.

“Hey, Inosuke!” Inosuke looked behind him to see Tanjiro standing with a blond haired boy.

Despite the cold late fall air Inosuke’s ears burned furiously like they had caught fire.

Inosuke jogged over to where Tanjiro and company stood.

“Hey Tangerine” Inosuke waved to Tanjiro. The blond boy gave Tanjiro a confused look before shaking his head.

“Hello, I'm Zenitsu Agatsuma. Nice to meet you,” he extended his arm out to Inosuke while he waited for the boy to take in a handshake.

“Inosuke Hashibira,” Inosuke said

“What’s up, Monichi,” Inosuke grabbed Zenitsu’s hand firmly as if he was trying to assert his dominance.

“That’s not even close to what I said it’s Zenitsu,”

“That’s what I said, Zantac!” Inosuke said squeezing Zenitsu’s hand even harder

“That's not even what you said the first time, it’s Zenitsu and you’re gonna crush my hand let go!” Inosuke let go and turned away with a deep, angry frown on his face.

Zenitsu shook his hand furiously, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“So… Inosuke, Zenitsu and I were just about to get something to eat. Do you wanna come with us?”

Inosuke turned to look at Tanjiro and his heart pounded in his chest. Shit there goes this feeling in my chest again, Inosuke thought.

Well he didn't feel cold anymore with how his body heat was rising.

“Sure,”

Tanjiro smiled at Inosuke’s answer. “Great, hanging out with friends is the best,”

The wind blew harshly, sending a chill down Inosuke’s spine.

“You cold Inosuke? I suppose your clothes aren’t really for cold weather. Do you want my scarf?” Tanjiro asked.

Inosuke looked down at what he was wearing; he was so distracted earlier he had forgotten to change out of his dance outfit, so here he stood in black sweatpants and a navy muscle-tee, with nothing but a fleece and cotton blend to keep warm.

Before he could answer Tanjiro had taken off his scarf and tenderly wrapped it around Inosuke.

“Now you’ll be all nice and cozy, it looks nice.”

Inosuke felt like his guts were in a flurry and his heart was in his throat at the sight of Tanjiro’s warm smile. Heat rose to his face and he promptly turned and started running across the courtyard.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Tanjiro called after him, following suit.

“Huh? Don’t leave me behind!” Zenitsu cried as he ran after the other boys.

They ran after Inosuke until he abruptly stopped. Tanjiro and Zenitsu caught up, stopping behind him.

“Are- you- cr- ugh crazy!? What the hell man!” Zenitsu said tiredly, his hands on his knees and chest heaving.

“Where are we?” Tanjiro asked, his breaths visible in the crisp air, while he looked at his surroundings.

“A restaurant,” Inosuke said promptly before walking in.

They both looked at Inosuke like he had two heads, he looked completely normal like he didn't just take off running a minute ago. They shrugged to each other before walking inside.

The inside was decorated fairly traditionally, with warm colors that invited you in and made you feel welcome.

“This reminds me of my grandma’s house,” Zenitsu pointed out.

There was a decent amount of people eating but it wasn’t crowded. Walking up to the young woman working at the reception table.

“Table for three please,” Tanjiro gave the woman a warm smile.

“Right this way,” she walked from behind the front desk and led them to one of the booths.

“Hear you are a server will be right with you,”

“Thank you,” Tanjiro said before sliding in next to Inosuke.

“Ozaki tell the old lady I say hey,” Inosuke called out before the young hostess walked off.

“Inosuke, I don't think you should call anyone an old lady, that's rude.”

“It’s fine, I know the old bat that owns the place.” Inosuke shrugged as he looked back at the two boys.

“Who are you calling an old Bat!” A loud smack came down onto Inosuke as the older woman appeared out of nowhere.

“Ow that hurt! I didn’t mean to call you an old bat, I meant to call you an old lady.” She grabs the end of his ear and pulls him close to her height.

“That’s the same thing. You should be ashamed, this is how you treat your grandma!” The woman said chopping Inosuke over the head.

“Grandma?” Tanjiro and Zenitsu both exclaimed in shock.

16 notes · View notes

sassy-author · 2 years

Text

blurred lines [johnnyxoc]

genre: slice-of-life / adulthood / slowburn / strangers-to-something-au word count: 5.4k+

The odds of Johnny and Soyeon meeting were average. Whilst they shared more similarities than expected, This mere fact could have led to their demise.

Career-driven, focused, ambitious and rested. Who am I describing exactly? One could easily be mistaken. Or simply, they shared the same soul.

In this day and age where labels and pretense prevails, A litre-full of patience, a dash of familiarity and a sense of uncertainty Is all they obtained. But is this enough?

Will they be able to get out of the blurred lines? Or shall the blurred lines naturally stay for as long as they both deemed fit?

Follow the story of Johnny and Soyeon, a stoic slow-burn which pictures the correlation between adulthood, career, societal expectations, friendship and love.

“I need this report on my desk by tomorrow 15h latest.” Soyeon sternly exclaimed through her intercom.

“Yes boss. Once again, I’m sorry for the figures.” The financial advisor said at the other end of the line, tone showing nothing but respect.

“If you really are, I’m sure that next time, you will double check the accounts more thoroughly.” Soyeon sighed, massaging her temples as her brain was piecing her next move simultaneously, cutting the call short to get back to her own paperwork.

The financial report for the past quarter was an utter disaster. One of the newbies in the financial department interchanged the cost and price figures, throwing the whole analysis off. While his calculations were perfect, the base material itself was incorrect. On surface level, the newbie had done a great job but if one were to look closer, it was easy to notice the obvious mistake with a downward sloping revenue curve when in fact, Domaine, had just had one of their best quarters in the past three years.

Soyeon threw a dejected look at her watch before sighing once again: ‘Yet another all-nighter,’ she thought. Soyeon had been working at Domaine for the past five years. With a bachelor’s degree in Managerial Accounting and Finance, she interned at the company for six months before being taken on board as a full-time entry-level financial associate. She was quick to adapt and proved herself as a key player on the team within her first year when she inevitably had to put her foot down in the absence of her supervisor who was on maternity leave. And now, four years later, her team-leads, and managers moved to higher level management or secondary branches, leaving her the position of Head of Financial Analysis at the Seoul branch.

While the merits and pay linked to this position were totally worth the hard work she had to input, it did take a strain on her personal life wherein for the past five years, Soyeon led a single life; thriving in her career but limiting her social network to family, friends, and colleagues. Haechan, one of the closest friends since university always made a point to single out that she should put herself out there more, but Soyeon could simply not hear about it. In her opinion, she had had enough of the dating experience back in university and it was simply not on her list of priorities to find ‘the one,’ settle down and get married, as her mother would like her to do.

A knock to her door was the only noise that broke her out of focus, making sure to save her report, she looked up, frowning as she clearly recalled telling her secretary that she wished not to be disturbed until 19h. It is only then that she noticed how much time had flown by as the night sky was filled with ambient light, hiding away the stars that should have been in the sky at that time. 20h17. Stretching a little, she softly said, “Come in.” expecting her secretary to tell her that she was calling it a day.

“Ta-dah!” the intruder exclaimed, waving two take-out paper bags. Haechan. Of course.

Soyeon smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I could be asking you the same question. Did you forget that we were supposed to have dinner tonight?” Haechan retorted, making his way in her office as if it were his own, setting the food on the coffee table.

Soyeon cringed at herself, an apologetic expression gracing her face. “I’m sorry, we have this deadline, and the report is not ready, and the team made a mistake and this client-”

As Soyeon was making her way towards her friend, he shut her up by stuffing a piece of salmon sashimi into her mouth. “I know, when I called earlier your secretary gave me a brief.”

Soyeon took a seat in front of Haechan, wasting no time to dig in. Of course, Haechan was witty enough to get her favourite assortment from the sushi bar downtown. “Thank you, I didn’t know but I was completely starving.” Soyeon admitted gleefully as she took another bite.

Haechan shook his head with a smirk to his face; “Well if you would diminish the workaholic behaviour, maybe you would take care of yourself a little more, young lady.”

Soyeon rolled her eyes, “Why should I? I have an excellent friend in front of me, doing all the dirty work in my stead.” She exclaimed shamelessly.

Haechan flicked her forehead with no hesitation. “While I wish that I could be there for you all the time, I really think that you should find someone who will be versed enough to understand your work jargon and share the burden with you.”

Soyeon should have seen that coming; after all, she incited the conversation to go that way henceforth, she could blame no one but herself for giving Haechan the opportunity to sneak in this attack again. “We’ve been over this Donghyuk.” She said lowly, using his real first name, to express her dejection at the topic.

“I know, I know. But again, I do not mean it in a bad way. I am proud of you. You are a strong and independent woman but one day, I will date again. What will you do when I won’t be able to save your sorry ass and empty stomach?” Haechan retorted, crossing his arms to his chest.

Haechan had a point. Their closeness dated from all the way back in university, but they only grew tighter when their circle of friends all found partners whilst the two of them were the only celibates. Haechan did date, one woman, after university, for a little over a year. At that point, Soyeon was striving to get promoted which left her little to no time to ponder on her social life. Eventually, a horrible breakup found Haechan, with Soyeon the only one in their circle readily making time for him when he was at his lowest.

“When the day comes where the dynamics will change, I will deal with the situation, as I always have.” Soyeon simply stated.

“Burying yourself in your work is not healthy Yeon.” Haechan reprimanded but he knew that he had better drop the topic there for the moment.

“I swear, one day, she is going to faint only because she forgot to eat.” Haechan exclaimed dramatically to his friend. Doyoung and Haechan were currently on their afternoon break on the rooftop of the office building, each with a cup of coffee in hand.

“What did you expect, Yeon has always been highly driven on her career.” Doyoung said as a matter of fact, taking a sip out of his beverage.

“Yes, but it’s not healthy, are we supposed to just watch her miss out on her life like that?” Haechan argued back, frustrated, but not to anyone in particular.

Doyoung patted Haechan’s back as he sighed; “Over are our university days now, as much as we wish we could always be there for our friends and vice versa, we all have our lives to attend to. I know that you are worried about her, we all are. But it’s not like a horrific trauma is preventing her from living the stereotypical late-twenties life. She made the choice for herself, who are we to break her resolution.”

“Doyoung has a point, even if I have no background context on the topic.” A familiar voice broke into the conversation.

“Hyung, not you too.” Haechan exclaimed at his dearest colleague and now close friend, Johnny.

Johnny grinned at his juniors, hand also bracing a cup of coffee along. “Okay, I admit that I said that, only to be against your point of view.” Johnny started, looking at Haechan with nothing but brotherly-adoration, “But whatever the context, Doyoung’s point was totally valid. Whoever this woman is, I guess that she is your age. If she chose her career above everything, it is her choice, no matter your opinion on the subject.”

Haechan frowned furiously, a pout even finding his lips, but he knew that his friends were right. Yet, he also held confidence in his opinion. Doyoung eyed his older friend’s expression and snickered, whispering to Johnny as he headed back into the building: “Try arguing with a stubborn head like his.” Johnny chuckled, nodding at Doyoung who left the two to discuss.

Johnny took position near Haechan, leaning against one of the railings. “So, what’s the deal with your friend? You like her or something?” He asked, with a smug look to his face.

“Ew no.” Haechan immediately answered. “Well, I like her, of course, as a friend, she is just like a best friend to me, don’t tell Mark I said that, but yeah she is one of my closest friends. But she is missing out on so much. She spends nearly all her Friday nights at her office. Works from home on weekends and only goes out with us like once a month. She is like a robot at work.”

“We all have different priorities in life Haechan. Pushing your ideals onto her won’t change a thing if she��s really as determined as you make her seem to be.” Johnny said calmly.

“It’s not that I want to push my ideals on her, I get it, her career makes her happy. That’s great, but I wish she had someone to rely on once in a while you know. Someone mature enough to understand her need for space and her dedication to her work, but thoughtful enough to bring her dinner once in awhile like I do, and a shoulder to cry on when she is frustrated or upset.”

“And how exactly do you think that she is going to find this too-good-to-be-true-person?” the elder questioned back.

“For one, she could put herself out there a little more. All the persons she met since we graduated university are like pawns in her grand business network. While I understand her professionalism, there is no harm in getting to know someone beyond the surface level of ‘what’s your occupation,’ y’know.” Haechan sighed, gulping the remaining drops of his coffee.

Johnny smiled at the truly genuine intentions of his junior. While he totally understood the frustration that emanated from Haechan, Johnny could not help but actually relate to the mystery woman more. After all, he himself had chosen a career life over personal relationships, to the great dismay of his own friends as well.

“Jaehyun, really I love you man, but if you bring up the word blind-date, one more time, I’m going to cut you off.” Johnny exclaimed in his passive-aggressive tone while the barman shot him an apologetic look as he served him a good whiskey on the rocks.

Two seats to his left, an inadvertent Soyeon overheard the conversation and could only snicker, unwillingly garnering Johnny’s attention. Flushed, she bowed her head, biting her bottom lip lightly, to express her apologies.

A few minutes later, Johnny was finally off-the-hook, putting his phone away to finally really look at the woman who was just now seemingly judging his predicament. Sensing his gaze, Soyeon diverted her attention from her own whiskey, on the rocks with a twist, to meet Johnny’s curious glance.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to overhear the conversation you were on.” She said first, a polite smile to her lips.

Her eyes were pure, Johnny noticed before finally shaking his head. “It’s okay, I’m going to blame this on my overbearing friend.” He stated calmly, taking in her appearance; Soyeon was professionally dressed – black pencil skirt, beige heels and royal blue blouse that fit her skin tone perfectly. Light make-up, only to highlight her existing features and a high bun to nest her brunette hair. She was obviously, taking advantage of the Friday happy hour, directly after work.

“Oh, I know the kind.” Soyeon said, recalling Haechan’s ways as well.

From the way this sentence just rolled out of her tongue, Johnny knew that she was not just saying that for small talk, rather she seemed to really know, her then sad smile confirming his intuitions as well. “What’s your story? Overbearing parent or nosy friend?”

“I managed to get the parents off my back, I’m left with only the friend now.” She said before taking a sip of her beverage. “I’m actually surprised that he hasn’t mentioned the word blind-date to me.”

“Well, if you are in anyway in the same situation as I am, I really hope that he doesn’t. Once they get started on their own perception, it is very difficult to change the train’s track, y’know.” Johnny said, once again, all too calmly and composed.

“How are you so calm about it? Is it that it’s been just that long that you finally grew used to your friend’s antics or you’re slowly giving up on fighting back?” she asked, angling herself a little more towards Johnny, showing genuine interest in his story while keeping this undefined line in between them.

Johnny seized the opportunity to naturally, move a seat closer to her, bringing his glass along, as he truly seemed to contemplate over her question. “I guess that I am just confident enough in my point of view to not falter over whatever my friends or the world has to say.”

Right then, Soyeon noticed an endearing quality in Johnny, but she was not able to really put a name to it; was it his confidence, his view or himself? However, she did not ponder over it much longer; choosing to pursue on the conversation rather than read in between the lines. “And what is your point of view exactly?”

Johnny grinned, leaning an elbow on the bar isle, “That would be too much of a giveaway to someone I do not even know the name of.”

Soyeon chuckled: “But is my name actually important when we most probably won’t see each other again?”

“Touché.” Johnny downed his whiskey in a natural way, signalling his barman friend for a refill. “Well, I just think that I should be able to prioritise my career when I want to. It is not that I do not want to eventually meet someone, but I believe that I do not need to necessarily put myself out there per say, for now, I am content with my life and the people I have around me. Does it get lonely? Yes-”

“Yes, of course it does.” Soyeon interjected, before pursuing, “but the momentary feeling of loneliness is nothing in retrospect to the gratification I get from meeting a deadline or producing good quality work. For me that’s what counts right now and there is nothing wrong with that.”

Johnny smiled, raising his glass towards Soyeon who quickly caught onto the manoeuvre and mirrored his gesture. Clinking their glasses in unison, Johnny said: “Thank you for understanding, stranger.”

“Oh please, the pleasure is mine.” Soyeon concluded.

“Hyung, don’t forget about the department dinner we have tonight.” Haechan said, discretely as he was walking past Johnny’s office, on his way to deliver his final cuts of the day to his team lead.

Johnny sighed before nodding, dismissing his junior swiftly to get back to his editing. Johnny was the Head Editor of the videography department. Neo-Media was famous for their innovative and eye-catching advertising with the use of trendy social media platforms such as Tik-Tok or Instagram to boost and promote brands. Whilst, his first career choice was photography, what started as a part-time job in the industry to get experience and a nice touch to his CV, turned into a new passion for which he dedicated his time. And finally, after seven years of hard work to make a name for himself, Johnny had his own team and segregated line of expertise within Neo-Media, specialising in start-up business’ advertising.

That day, the whole department was scheduled to have their monthly dinner at one of the boss’ favourite restaurants up-town in Gangnam. While Johnny was never the type to coward away from his social responsibilities at work, he felt under the weather that day, mostly because he had been working on a new project which was due the very next day. Sighing, he replayed his second-to-last draft of the campaign on his second screen, before nodding to himself, jotting down notes on colour correction and caption placements that needed adjustment. Saving his progress, he swiftly turned off his PC before stretching his neck a little. 18h27. ‘Better get going,’ he thought, grabbing his coat on his way out.

Diverse conversations and cheers were heard all across the restaurant. It had been booked out by the company to allow them the capacity and some privacy. As usual, Johnny found himself seated at the same table as his juniors among whom were Doyoung and Haechan; busy playing one of their favourite drinking games, of course. Nothing out of the ordinary. Time was of the essence, until Doyoung would be tipsy enough to start blabbing about his profound love for his partner. Therefore, Johnny made the most out of the remaining minutes of ‘quiet’ he could get that night. That was until, a rather familiar face showed up. Dressed in a burgundy pencil-skirt, sporting a black blouse, black heels, similar makeup but with her hair down this time, the stranger from the bar came in, walking towards their table out of all.

Johnny frowned, for one, this was a private gathering, and two, she paid him no attention, and rather only saw Doyoung and Haechan.

“Yeon, what are you doing here?” Doyoung questioned as he took notice of his friend when she placed her hand on his shoulder. She smiled, before waving the bag with what seemed to be a gift.

“I told you that I would not be able to make it to your birthday party tomorrow.” She voiced out with an apologetic tone.

Doyoung and Haechan both got up from their seat, each engulfing her in a friendly hug.

“Thank you for bringing it to me nevertheless.” Doyoung showed his gummy smile as he dropped a peck to her cheek, which she playfully wiped as soon as he performed the gesture; inciting Haechan to try and give her a kiss too. With a quick pinch to his stomach, Haechan retracted himself.

Johnny observed the exchange quietly, and before he knew it, he cleared his throat softly, signalling his presence, against his own better judgement. Cursing himself under his breath, Soyeon finally took account of her surroundings, recognition apparent through her dilated pupils. It was then Haechan’s cue to talk.

“Ah, Soyeon, this is Johnny, one of our Seniors, also a good friend. Johnny, this is my friend all the way from university Soyeon.” Haechan said, hyper from the alcohol before whispering to Soyeon in a matter-of-fact manner; “He’s three years older than us.”

All this information sunk in quickly, as she blinked a few too many times. Johnny chuckled to himself before extending his hand to his counterpart, “It’s nice to meet you, Soyeon.” A playful glint apparent in his eyes.

Secretly happy that he feigned no recollection of her in front of her friends, Soyeon shook his hand politely, “It is indeed, Johnny-Oppa?”

“Oppa it is!” Johnny exclaimed. “Why don’t you join us for a glass?”

Haechan was about to excitedly agree with this idea before Soyeon swiftly shut it down with a polite smile; “Thank you for the invitation, but I have to get back to the office. A few more reports to complete before calling it a day.”

Doyoung pouted, knowing that there was no changing her mind when it came to work. Haechan moved to hold her back, but Johnny was faster, putting a hand on his junior’s shoulder, inciting him to sit back down next to Doyoung.

“Off you go then.” Johnny smiled at her knowingly.

Two months later, Soyeon found her way back to the bar. It was a secret ritual of hers to grab a drink after each successful project delivery. That Friday night, the sky was clear but nonetheless chilly. Dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a blue long-sleeved shirt, with a beige cardigan loosely tied around her neck, she sat at the bar as usual, asking for a whiskey on the rocks with a twist.

That night was one of those… where Soyeon would have loved to get home to someone, share her success over the past project and express her anticipation for the next step. While the emotion was overwhelming at that point, she knew that once she would sleep it off, the next day she would wake up with no special recollection of what felt like an agonising emptiness then.

Lost in her thoughts, Soyeon failed to notice the stranger approaching her. With no sense of space and self-respect or for others, the inebriated man slung a careless arm upon her shoulders, causing the loose knot of her cardigan to come undone round her neck. Immediately annoyed but not scared at all, Soyeon rolled her eyes, before throwing a cold glare to the man.

“Should you not remove your filthy arm from me within the next second, expect a few broken bones.” She stated coldly, taking a sip from her whiskey.

“Feisty, I love it.” The man announced, not reading the room at all, head deep in his own dirt-bag mannerisms. He tried to bring Soyeon closer to him, but she was quick enough to seize his hand, plunging her nails in his knuckles as she twisted his arm behind his back, effectively hearing a crack in his wrist. Did she just break his bone? No. Was it a severe sprain though? Yes, yes it was. Soyeon was now standing, her cardigan to the ground due to her quick movement, still holding this man under her control.

“Do I need to get security Ma’am?” The barman asked as he caught sight of the situation.

“It’s okay Kun, already called the bouncer.” A familiar voice pronounced behind Soyeon. Indeed, a bouncer came, taking the assailant from Soyeon’s grip. Johnny discretely nodded to Kun, who got the cue to get back to his other clients. She bowed slightly, thanking him, ready to take her seat again, until she recalled that someone was behind her, turning on her heels, a smiling Johnny was already looking at her, with her cardigan in hand. “I believe that this is yours.”

The smile that found her face was small, but nevertheless, beautiful, he thought. “Thank you.” She said, dusting the garment a little before placing it securely round her shoulders once again.

“Mind if I sit next to you or should I stray away in order to preserve my arm?” Johnny asked jokingly. Effectively, Soyeon chuckled, before nodding.

“Go ahead.” She said, signalling Kun back. “A whiskey, on the rocks, for the gentleman, please.”

“Ah, you remembered.” Johnny stated.

“I pay attention to the smallest details, got that from my job.” She interjected, whilst Kun served Johnny’s beverage.

“Another long week?” Johnny asked, ‘Small talk would not hurt,’ he thought.

“Another escape from your friend?” She queried, a smirk to her lips. You would think that Johnny would falter with the change of conversation, but he was not the type to. Oh no. Johnny was different. If she wanted to talk about him, well, they would.

“Not this time, I’m actually here because I felt like grabbing a glass before heading home.” He said truthfully, leaning on his elbow once again, mirroring the first night they met.

“So, you work with Haechan and Doyoung, huh?”

“Yes, though Doyoung is not from our department anymore.”

“Ah yeah, he got promoted last month.” Soyeon said, a proud smile to her lips. “How long have you been working for Neo Media?”

‘She’s really not going to let me turn the conversation towards her, mh.’ Johnny was quick to notice. “Well, it’s my seventh year. I took a year off after university to go back to Chicago before getting back here for work.”

“Oh, you’re not from here.” Soyeon stated, not really questioning, as she seized the twist from her now empty glass, eating the lemon sweetly without wincing or grimacing.

“I was born and raised in Chicago, came here for university, loved it and decided to settle.”

“Oh wow. But don’t you miss home?”

“Well, I miss my parents. I have friends over there as well. But I believe that home is where my heart is. And for now, my heart is in every project that I take upon my shoulders.” Johnny said, a bittersweet smile found his lips. “You must think that I am a crazy workaholic. And you wouldn’t be wrong.”

“That makes me a crazy workaholic too anyway, we’re like two peas in a pod.” Soyeon cursed herself mentally for speaking her mind so openly but the warm smile that Johnny sent her way was enough to reassure her that no offence was caused.

The night went on, small talk turning into a Johnny trivia where Soyeon effectively dodged all of Johnny’s attempts to get to know her beyond her reactions and occasional repartee. Intrigued, the elder man was more drawn to her than thrown off. At the end of the night, Soyeon knew all about his passion for photography, his love for his friends, his secret stash of gummy bears in one of his medicine cabinets due to his greedy best friend Ten, and his incline towards Cardi B over Nicki Minaj. All in all, Soyeon could only define Johnny as a likable and sociable giant. Well mannered yet goofy. Sweet and totally cringey at the same time.

It was nearing midnight when they both decided to call it a night, after all, they had both wanted one drink before heading home, not the 5-7 glasses that followed. Soyeon’s rosy cheeks showed her alcohol intake, but she was not drunk nor tipsy per say, lightheaded, for sure. Johnny, as well, held his alcohol like a pro, but was now more affected by the chilly weather than before.

Soyeon was waiting for the cab she called, while Johnny was waiting for his designated driver. He would have offered to take her home, but he already knew that she would decline. She knew how to draw the line and he respected that. But. It did not mean that things had to stop there.

“Can I get your number?” He asked, as they were both stood on the pavement. Soyeon’s rounded eyes showed her surprise. “Initially, I wanted to ask for your name, when I’d see you a second time, but I didn’t know that the second time would be in front of your friends.”

“So, you mean to say, that you wanted to see me again after that night at the bar?” She asked, bashful.

“There’s only one way for you to find out.” Johnny stated, extending his phone with the dial pad up, to her. “By the way, blue is your colour.” He coyly added, gaze quickly darting towards her blouse, reminding him of one of the first thought he had about her the first time they met.

‘Smooth talker,’ she thought.

“Yeon, can you really not make it tonight?” Haechan whined on the other end of the line.

Soyeon wore an apologetic smile even if his friend would not be able to see it: “I’m sorry, we got an urgent request at 16h. I won’t be able to finish it all by 19h.”

Haechan sighed, trying to understand his friend’s predicament, “Okays, well you will be missed.”

“Make sure to get my favourite drink in my stead.” She jokingly said, with her free hand opening the door to her office as she was on her way back from the conference room.

“You and that bloody whiskey. Do you want me to send you some takeout?”

Soyeon was about to agree, until she noticed a foreign package on her desk. With a note at that:

Figured you could use something to eat. – J

The smile that found her lips was rare but more and more frequent nowadays, long gone were the small and polite formalities. “Thank you, but I’m covered for the night, no worries. Send my regards to everyone tonight.”

As soon as her call was over, Soyeon dropped her phone and her files on her desk, attention fully drawn to the mysterious package of the day. Picking the post-it first, she placed the note in her first drawer naturally, amongst a few similar pieces of paper, bearing the same font, same initial, and equally short phrases.

Upon inspection, this time, it was Italian cuisine.

Text to: Johnny-Oppa You’re incorrigible. Thanks.

No later than a minute after, she received a simple answer.

Text from: Johnny-Oppa You owe me, yet again.

It had then been a month since Johnny had asked Soyeon for her number. Though she did hesitate before giving him her contact details, he truly did not ring any red flags in front of her radars. If anything, he was a good friend and colleague to her closest friends. He was mature and shared similar priorities to her. Keeping him in her social network could only be beneficial. ‘A good acquaintance,’ she had initially thought.

While Johnny shared a similar perspective, what started as a drinking-buddy type of relationship, turned into regular friends. At the same time, it was hard to keep the pretence of acquaintances when Soyeon knew about the time he was in church choir back in Chicago, and totally ruined his recital due to some ‘unfortunate fish poisoning situation’ and not because of his doomed stage-fright, so he claimed.

There was no denying that Johnny was slowly but surely growing on Soyeon. They would text each other only occasionally, and actually met twice in that one-month span – once as drinking buddies and the second time in the presence of Haechan. Nevertheless, their friendship remained to be a secret. They were not necessarily hiding their growing closeness, neither were they actually broadcasting the news round the street. Haechan noticed that they were cordial with each other, but he did not really think twice about it; Johnny was always sociable and Soyeon polite. That time, Soyeon and Haechan were just supposed to grab lunch, Johnny knowingly tagged along, as part of his ‘experiment’ to demonstrate Soyeon that they could actually hang out with no whiskey at stake. To her great dismay, he was right. The awkwardness she so highly anticipated, was nowhere to be felt which was most probably the biggest turning point for her.

Once she joined the workforce, Soyeon compartmentalised her priorities and making friends or romantic relationships were far down the storage section. She was content with the friends she already had and soon enough, she grew a certain awkward aura, in her opinion, preventing her from actually opening up to new people. Consequently, Johnny had experienced her clearly defined line, but he was nowhere near discouraged by it.

Johnny on the other hand, was more spontaneous yet reserved. He was fine with venturing out in society, but he preferred everything to happen naturally rather than actively look for new friends or the fancy context that is ‘love.’ The carefree spirit he was had enough of a headache with his career so, he was satisfied with the present life he had. Soyeon. She didn’t exactly change his ideals. On the contrary, she had fit so perfectly in his lifestyle that it was very hard to believe, even for himself. That was until a few days prior.

It had been yet another chilly autumn night, Johnny had just reached his apartment after a rather monotone day at work. The first thing he did after his shower was saunter to his kitchen and make himself a cup of lemon tea. With no second thoughts, he took a snapshot of his cup, with the lemon twist and zests clearly apparent; sending the picture to Soyeon with a simple text: ‘Whiskey on a budget.’

He was not expecting much of a response but what came his way was another picture, a selfie at it, of Soyeon holding up a mug of lemon tea as well. No words were added but that night he overstepped the limits he had set for himself and pushed the dial button. For a Thursday night, they both had uneventful days at work and for the first time, Johnny was able to get to know Soyeon better. From her secret love for Lays Chips, her inability to sing in tune and her undying passion for graphical representations of anything that could be analysed; he knew that she was a rare gem, unique at it, but genuine. All he needed to be, was patient with her and she would open up at her own pace.

Acquaintances. They were. Friends. For now. Blurred Lines. For sure. Lovers. One day.

THE END.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #seo johnny #suh johnny #nct johnny #johnny fanfic #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #scenarios #nct imagines #slice of life #adulthood #slowburn #strangers au

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puppypeter · 3 years

Text

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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fishybehavior · 3 years

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girl help, I'm caught up in my own brainrot for a slowburn plasma fic au, where Jay is a fanfic writer and Kai just wants to understand what Starfarer is

- - -

Logging into his Readdit account, Jay looked through the usual memes and updates on the Starfarer's thread. Throwing his comments and memes around. Chuckling at the weird theories and crack idea’s near the bottom. He was about to sign off and check up on some friends when an alert popped on his screen. A message from his friend, one of the mods on the board.

“Lol. check this out ur always complaining about having no one to talk to” It read, a link to a post, posted several hours before. It must’ve been buried underneath everything else.

“Looking for someone to explain the goddamn lore of this stupid show” The title stated, it explained that the poster had a little brother into the show, but they couldn’t understand any of the lore. “Looking for someone patient with internet illiterate dorks.” Raising an eyebrow at the odd description, he looked at the comments below to see that the poster was the first comment, listing ways to contact them.

“Ignore the internet illiterate comment, my stupid sister put it in and i dont know how to change it.” Jay couldn’t help but chuckle, looking at the two ways of contacting this poster he decided to do Disharmony, it was the easiest way anyway.

“eyo!! i saw ur post on readdit

im always free if u got questions about the fandom or the lore :]”

- - -

Hours later, Jay was scrolling through Rumblr when he heard the oh so familiar, yet annoying, ding of Disharmony. Sharing the fanart he was looking at, he switched over to the app, looking to see if it was his friends screaming over his new rewrite ideas. But no, it was a message from a barely familiar name, $hougun1987, the guy with the Readdit post.

“hey”

“yello, how u being? :)” Jay responded quickly.

“uhhhhhhh, fine i guess.”

Jay hummed, he didn’t want to scare him off, but the guy didn’t seem comfortable. “So u want to know more about starfarer?”

He watched nothing happen for a second, then the small writing icon appeared. Jay had set his to be a bluebird, it slowly flapped its wings as he waited for the guy to reply.

“yeah my lil bro is super into it. Loves to talk about it, but i dont understand a thing he says about it”

Jay nodded in understanding; he wanted to share the show with many of his friends too. But after the third death in the second season and the weird time travel episode that messed with a lot of the timeline, he always ended up losing them in the confusion.

“its pretty awesome ur willing to try and understand it most find it pretty duanting”

“i dont care if it is you should see his face light up when he talks about it, all I want is to understand half of what hes saying he’ll light up so much more when he can talk about it to someone” They responded immediately, Jay was shocked about the passion in his words.

“if u dont mind me asking why r u asking for someone to explain it? theres plenty of vids about it”

“You cant ask videos questions”

“Comments?”

“They all speak gibberish too Imm stubborn and suck at learning I just need a person who can go slow and can answer questoins"

Jay blinked, this almost seems too perfect. Someone who wanted all the details, and was willing to listen to him ramble about every aspect of the show he had been hyper-fixating on for almost two years now? AND was going to ask questions. . .

He couldn’t pass this up, even his own friends in the community were tired of listening to him ramble about the show.

“we’ll, honestly, my dude, this sounds like a great project id be more than happy to help if u want me” Jay responded, not trying to sound too excited.

“sounds good how about we start tomorrow? ill message u”

“Yee! what ur name btw?”

“what!?! im not giving you my name!!”

Chuckling he quickly responded, “i dont want ur name, just wanna know what to call u we’re going to be chatting for a while it’d be awkward to call u dude the whole time”

There was a pause, and for a second Jay was worried that he scared him off, but then the app dinged as he responded.

“shogun, call me shogun”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jay replied. “hi shogun, im plasma :)”

#ninjago #kjerfnklejfnc #new fic idea #kai ninjago #jay ninjago #:P #fic #:D #what id i just made jay me

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onewomancitadel · 2 years

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I was reading a Miraculous fanfic, and it was slow burn, and about every other chapter was a giant cliffhanger. I've remembered that Skimming Eye is also slow burn, so this is m formally requesting that you don't try to kill me with suspense and dramatic irony. If not for me, then do it for my high blood pressure XD.

That said, have you currently got any one-shots or other stories in the works? Care to give me a taste of some?

Slow burn is the only type of longfic romance that matters to me. If it's not slowburn then what's the point. It's like revealing the killer in a murder mystery too early. Well, I suppose The Secret History did that, didn't she. That's a whydunnit as opposed to a whodunnit, though.

I try to intentionally write chapters as satisfying standalone chunks with a mini-theme (in respect to the big one) explored, so there's some sense of resolution every time another secret is introduced.

I'm not 100% sure if that's always successful... like Chapter 8 I got a lot of 'you are evil, this cliffhanger is evil' and I don't challenge the former, but the latter does interest me, because I was sitting here smug and self-satisfied thinking to myself: lol we got the enemies-as-lovers parting, yes, yes, yes, excellent, the boon of enemies-as-lovers romance, the midway point I've never seen capitalised upon in the exact way I want it *evil gremlin laughter as It’s All Gone Tomorrow plays in the distance* and I thought it was really great because once I hit around the 12,000 word mark I was like let's cut it off here with Salem turning up, but I didn't, I kept it until they said goodbye. That plus, I think it's a cheap and usual cutting off put - ahh dramatic reveal! - but we knew it was going to happen at some point, the more interesting part is what is Cinder going to do next. That's the real mystery/question.

(On that note... my approach is ‘what’s the stuff I like as a reader’ and ‘what’s the more interesting thing to write’, I get bored easily and I want different stuff to happen, though I want narrative language to be intelligible, and I would ideally like everything to be connected and have a meaningful relationship plot-wise... so say, let me talk frankly: the first Summer Maiden’s murder solved the following structurally: a) boring Maiden hunt b) who is the Summer Maiden? her lack of identity is an point of characterisation/commentary on the Maidens c) it gives Vacuo some characterisation for how they choose to protect their Maidens versus the coddling, for instance, of others d) now I can make the Summer Maiden whomever I want, and I know how to identify my antagonist).

Slow burn is good so long as it's not cheap... I've talked a bit before about why I think enemies-to-lovers is such a successful slow burn - or it should be - because there's so much added to the relationship that makes realising it much more difficult. I also think of the slow burn in The Distance Which Fools the Skimming Eye like a perpetually burning underground coal mine disaster. Environmentally ruinous and very passionate!

So, I'm very invested in well-done slow burn, and I'm very invested in also trying to feel satisfied as you go. There are real and salient reasons why they aren't/can't be together, and how you get to that seemingly so-simple point (let's just admit that we love each other, why can't we love each other) is actually really hard. Everybody says communication is easy, unti they try it themselves, of course. But then what's a story without good conflict and narrative irony, yes? You need things to happen in a story.

The problem with sharing story ideas for me is that I get the 'good feeling' of having shared it/talked about it, and then I don't want to work on it. I have a lot that I'm just trying to write in one or two sittings when the muse strikes. I also have another longfic planned/written but I'm not sure when to begin posting that.

Admittedly, I'm pretty concerned about V9 in the sense that I'm afraid it's going to make me feel awkward/stupid/silly for shipping Knightfall for whatever reason (I’m very self-conscious) be that White/knight, which, despite the fact it makes no sense as a ship - well - I just have a bad feeling about the icky guy-patiently-waits-for-girl-to-notice-him-ship - and/or something horrible like Cinder-is-structurally-irredeemable (if you know where that 'structural irredeemability' nonsense comes from, I feel for you, I'm with you), then it's going to make me cry and pack up my toys and go home. So my one goal in sight is finishing Skimming Eye. That has to be my main focus. If I'm working on other oneshots it's only because I knew I wasn't going to be working on my main longfic anyway.

So I do have a lot of ideas and they all still interest me and I'm trying to write what I can on the side, but I do sort of have a mild priority. The fact most of the stories in my head are completely plotted means sitting down and writing them isn't as complicated, but there's also the fact that in Skimming Eye, that's where I want a lot of my... Knightfall firsts, if that makes sense. I'm having fun with it, I love the story when it's not making me cry because I'm a loser and nobody likes my fic (LOL!), and it's very special to me even if it's imperfect.

I'll try to see what I can get out in the near future, but my not-so-secret aim is to get two chapters done this week and then churn out the next few as quickly as possible. I have an idea of where I want to get the story before V9 comes out.

If anymore oneshots crop up, you'll be the first to know, I'm sure, though I've already mentioned on my blog I've got two chapters to post for and complete The One Known by Many Names (which I decided to extend), but I'm waiting to hit a certain chapter in Skimming Eye before I do. So there's that! <3 <3

Hope you're having a fab day and good luck with your slow burns!

#seraphina's asks #user: lareanzo #the distance which fools the skimming eye #me talking shit about jaune/weiss #enemies-as-lovers separation when susanne plays is just like #AND IF YOU FLEE THEN I WILL FOLLOWWWW #everything I've spent my life preparing for #our love will endure

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hoyaanae · 3 years

Text

My thoughts and all the things I love about Lovely Us (2020)

This drama really surprised me with how good it was written and made despite already knowing that this is highly rated by my cdrama mutuals. First ep right off the bat made me laugh and cry. The following eps kept the flow really well and established the characters and their relations. Before I know it, I'm already in love and attached to the characters and everything about this drama. It's very charming, calming and heartwarming to watch. The acting, writing, execution, ost, and production are well-done.

Set in 2007, this is another drama with nostalgic vibe that will remind you of your childhood and probably teenage years as well of your old neighborhood and the people you used to hang out with when you're younger. Even though I'm kinda fed up with childhood friends to lovers trope by now, this one did it the right way. Romance is slowburn but the buildup isn't slow at all. The main cp are so cute despite the daily bickerings that you just can't help but root for them to be together. It also have unrequited love trope where you'll see the character continuously root for that person and not expecting anything in return. There's no antagonist/evil characters in this story, just your feel-good slice-of-life drama with a touch of teenage romance in it.

Another strong point this drama have is the friendship and family dynamics. The five main leads have such amazing and solid friendship and their chemistry with each other is very natural to watch you'll wish you have the kind of friendship they have. It's endearing how their respective families are friends with one another and the parents have absolute trust with their children even allowing them to stay in closed room, have overnight at their house without adult supervision and even go to outdoor camping sharing one tent. It's refreshing to see how they showcased different parenting styles in each household and the parents aren't portrayed as someone controlling, instead they understand and communicate with their children. There's even one case wherein a parent realized he's doing it wrong so he asked for advice and help from his son's friend in order to get closer with his son.

Unlike other dramas, this one never drags out misunderstandings and touches the issue in the most heartwarming way that it never felt annoying or frustrating to watch, instead I became emotional at those moments that I can't help but shed a tear or ugly cry.

The characters are funny, full of mischief but sweet and thoughtful on the inside. It's a delight to watch them get together and have their little meetings, bicker and help each other out.

The ost will surely stay on repeat in my playlist for the next few days or weeks even. The song choices fit the mood so well and I find myself heavily lss-ed with the opening song. The song "Can I See You Tomorrow?" gives off the ultimate nostalgic vibe and reminds me of one ISWAK ost.

What really stood out to me the most are the moments in each ep wherein a certain character will narrate his/her thoughts about love, life, and family. They're beautifully and oftentimes poetically written matching with flashback scenes that made the dialogue even more heartfelt.

Here are some of the lines that are deeply engraved in my heart because they are beautifully written and will really go well as book passages:

"Once people become parents, their memory begins to become biased. They always remember they are their children's most reliable parents, but often forget that they are also children loved by their own parents. When they are waiting for their children to come back home, they forget that their own parents are also waiting for their return in a similar mood."

"The audio frequency of the sound when a snowflake falls on the water surface is over 50,000 Hz. Because it falls beyond human being's hearing range, this snowy day is still so quiet that it seems I can only hear my own heartbeat and that it seems there is only me and the person in front of me on this planet with a population of 6.6 Billion. I hope this world can be noiser so that I can pretend that I've never discovered this secret."

"They think that the probability is just 0.01, so they put on the emperor's new clothes, trying to hide their affections with magic. But affections are not that easy to hide. Even if the probability is pretty low, it will be revealed at a certain moment. So on that rainy night, while looking at her back, he found that the most obvious evidence of falling in love with her was the feeling of easement in his heart and the smile on his face when he looked at her."

"You think nothing will change as time flies by. But this time, the moment you let go and turn around, some things completely changed. The sun went down and before it rises again, some people will leave you forever. We always thought that there would be a big ceremony to say goodbye, so we keep waiting for a warm hug, a refreshing drink, and a heartfelt goodbye, but in the end, we realized that most goodbyes in our lives are all silent."

"At that silent corner in my mind, there are a number of weird illusions. For example, can I become Alice who enters the wonderland with White Rabbit? For example, can I become the little girl who enters the forest with Totoro? For example, is there some special switch in this box which can teleport me? No, none of them exist. There's no flying dragons or knights, and I'm not the heroine of some comics for girls, either. However, the only thing I'm sure about is that this escape greatly shocks my world. My palms would sweat, and my sight would be indistinct. Then my view becomes narrower and narrower until there's room for only one person in my eyes. After a long time, I know such a moment is named adventure, in which the one in your eyes is irreplaceable."

"The familiar chirping of cicadas on summer nights, the familiar bear doll who must lean by the lamb, the familiar lovely girl who frowns even when she sleeps, and the 17-yr-old time wrapped by the sense of familiarity never seem to have changed. The only difference is that when I look at the familiar him, I feel a flurry and uneasiness that I have never expected."

"There are many new days like today. Today, he holds my hand. Today, he holds me in his arms. Today, he carries me on his back and runs in the street in the early morning. Many days with him like today will eventually become my unforgettable past days. I'll remember days like today for a long time."

"Friendship means so much to us. It brings us close, and makes me flinch, so sometimes we just tell ourselves that as long as we're together, I can be just a friend of hers. But the taxi that I failed to catch, the phone calls that have been hung up, the time that's flying and my restless heart are telling me eagerly that in this world, both love and friendship are important. Every detail related to you is reminding me that we can't be just friends. So when it's still not too late, I have to tell you the things that I want to tell you as soon as possible. Huang Chengzi, I like you."

"In this world, it seems like all wishes have a guardian. Wishing wells, shooting stars, the aquarium's white whale. They're all hiding in the corners of the universe caressing the sorrow of loving someone alone. It's just that the god of happiness can't bless everyone out there. They let some people be happy and their wishes come true, and let some be sad, but they can't admit how sad they really are. The feeling of being in love is like a butterfly gently flapping its wings, that stirs up a hurricane in people's hearts. The second you realize it, then there's no escape."

#如此可爱的我们 #Lovely Us #Cdrama #Lovely Us cdrama #cdrama review

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sehiriti · 2 years

Note

8, 10, 19, 36 for the writing ask? <3

as an avid slowburn reader and enjoyer, if i don't want to rip the skin off my face every time they interact, then it's not slow enough.

jokes aside, i do think a good slowburn should still have a decent progress throughout the story, and not a 'one step forward, two steps back' method people keep trying to do to prolong the 'will they won't they' thing. not every romance needs to be a slowburn and that's okay.

for the favorite tropes i'd have to go for hurt but no comfort (most of the time), betrayal and enemies to lovers/lovers to enemies. i love me a good tragedy you Might be able to recover from ;)

for the snippet: 'His ladder, small and wooden and old, catches fire, and topples over the railing as though begging the sea below to stop its pain. All George is afraid of as he realizes his fate is the fact his mother would see his bloated body tomorrow morning. In such a moment, suspended between time and eternal stillness of the inevitable fall, he prays. To the sea below, to the jagged rocks lining the coast, to whoever is listening, he begs for more time. He begs for a life where he can be something more than a proof of miracles and luck.'

i either get a prophetic vision of the title before i even start outlining (best outcome) or i listen to music and find a lyric that fits the themes and story really well. worst way i do it is i just pluck a random sentence from the fic and put it as the title. the title i like most isn't for a published fic but it's 'little beast, reticent worship'. what it's about is confidential and will get me sniped so all i'm saying is, i really like it for the story i wrote/am writing.

#ask

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literate-lamb · 3 years

Text

Man of the House | two

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, future dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader | 18+

You take the cat in, or did it take you in? And what is that god-awful screech?

► warnings(!): slow burn. eventual dubcon/noncon, eventual choking in future chapters. this is a dark fic.

|| Series Masterlist ||

a/n: more slowburn. I swear it picks up by next chapter! Sorry for the late update, work has been kicking me. taglists still open.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

Tap. Tap. Tap. The click of kitten heels resounded as you walked, coffee cup in hand, its heat warming your cold fingers. The temperature was getting chillier as the days passed on. The once lush green foliage now no more, their hues of orange turning darker with time. The drab sky and the autumn wind didn’t make it easier, chilling you as they hung above and passed by.

Approaching the porch, you saw the white feline lounging on the steps. Its tail gave the occasional flicker, eyes imploring, as if it has been awaiting for your arrival.

“Mmreow.”

“Why, hello there!” you cooed, bending at the waist as you looked at the cat. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It gave a low murmur in return, rubbing and butting its head between your legs as a reply, leaving fine hairs on your slacks. Looks like you’ve made a new friend in the neighbourhood. A fur-riend, if you will.

“Lucky for you, I’ve brought some stuff,” you shook the bag of cat food in your other hand, smirking as you tempted the feline.

Sniffing the bag, the cat immediately became hyper, running towards the door with its tail swishing in excitement. Frustrated at your lack of movement, it mewled uncontrollably, yelling at you. Snickering, you stepped foot on the porch and set down the bag, fishing for the keys in your pocket. “Okay okay, you’re so demanding. Calm down.”

It zoomed in as soon as you unlocked the door. The fluffball looked like it knew its way around as it never once hesitated, long tail swishing as it went. It might’ve had history with previous tenants if it has been here long enough, including Mr Rogers.

Sensing your lack of presence, it stopped at the end of the hall, looked back and meowed, telling you to hurry up.

“Okay okay, sheesh, I’m coming!”

Entering the kitchen, you prepared the cat food in a bowl. The feline was almost ravenous, clawing at your slacks like it hasn’t eaten for days. That could be the case for strays, you mulled as you set down the bowl.

The house fell silent once more. Only the munching and grunting emanating from the small body the occasional interruption. You relaxed, back facing the countertop behind. Grabbing the nearest fruit bowl, you picked a peach, washed, and munched.

Slumping, you stared ahead, the antique mirror on the opposite wall occupied your vision. It was one of many, inhabiting your house in its intricate frame.

From your position, you could see the window of the back door reflected in the mirror, showcasing a small area of the yard. You felt yourself relax as you observed the fluttering of grass, dancing as they’re caressed by the autumn wind.

Sam had left in the morning, his work and apartment calling him, before you could be reunited at the end of the week. You missed him, but you enjoyed your solitude when it came, which wasn’t often. For now, it seemed you had a new companion to keep you company.

Munching on a peach, you divert your attention to the cat, watching as it ate eagerly. Humming, you had an idea.

“How about we call you Peaches?” you threw it out loud, “What do you think?”

The cat continued munching, not a care in the world. Well, you weren’t expecting much reply from a cat anyway.

“Peaches, it is then,” you hummed. Reaching down, you scratched it by the scruff. It had an immaculate coat for a stray, especially for a white cat. You found it surprising. “Let’s get you microchipped and vaccinated tomorrow, hmm?”

Leaving the feline to its own devices, you headed upstairs, dying for a post-work shower.

The blue bathroom tiles greeted your feet with their coolness. Natural light basked in through the lone window, bouncing on the walls as they illuminated the space. The clawfoot bathtub caught your eyes, its sight calling towards your fatigue body, demanding you take a dip.

Towel in hand, you stepped further into the bathroom and shut the door, shedding your clothes as you went. As you were busy pulling at your socks, something caught your attention.

The toilet seat was left up. This irritated you, terribly. You’ve always reminded Sam to put it down after he was done, and he was getting the hang of it too. Seemed like he needed another reminder.

You huffed as you shut the lid, unaware of the passing shadow beneath the door.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣

“Mrreow mrreow.”

“Yes yes, we’ll get back soon,” you replied, eyes on the road. “I need to get a few stuff for dinner.”

Peaches had been whining throughout the entire car ride back and forth. In the morning, she seemed hyper yet nervous being in a moving vehicle for the first time. She wouldn’t stop chittering at everything she saw, pawing at the windows as the scenery flew by. The ride back was far more peaceful as she was confined in a cat carrier bought at the clinic. That didn’t stop her chittering though, Peaches was a talkative cat.

A day at the clinic proved fruitful as you administered Peaches her first vaccine. She whined, but didn’t retaliate, taking it like a champ. A general checkup showed she was fit as a fiddle. Further checking revealed she wasn’t microchipped, proving her a stray of the area. You were more than happy to call her yours.

Putting the gear into park, you exited the car, leaving a smidge of space on the passenger window for Peaches.

“I won’t be long,” you reassured her, tapping the window.

The mini market was located among the row of shops in the quaint town, a five minutes drive from the house. It was a cozy family establishment nestled in the corner next to a hardware store, small but sufficient for the tiny population.

The shift in temperature was apparent when you stepped inside. An elder woman greeted you from behind the counter, her smile warm, clashing with the cold fall weather. Beside her, a teenager sat at the cash register, absent-mindedly flipping through a magazine. You returned the greeting with a smile and took a basket. This would mark your first appearance after the move into the neighbourhood.

Inside, the aisles were stocked but they were devoid of customers other than yourself. It seemed like a slow day.

Taking your time in the produce aisle, you took what you needed for tonight’s dinner, thinking of a few easy stir-fry recipes at the top of your head. You passed by the pet food area, taking a few snacks for Peaches. She deserved a treat after an exhausting day.

Bringing your basket to the counter, the teen started ringing up your items, face impassive, bored with the mundane task.

“Would you like some plastic bags?” the cashier asked, her voice drawls.

“Yes, please.”

Eyes downcast, you swayed on the heel of your boot as you waited for your groceries. The rhythmic tapping calmed you. Tap . Tap . Tap .

“Are you new here, dear?” a soft voice chimed.

Looking up, you saw the older lady had approached the front, facing you. She was a short woman, grey hair fixed neatly in a bun, with oval glasses perched on her nose. Her smile never wavered, motherly in a sense.

“Yes, I just moved here a few days ago,” you answered, straightened. “I live on Gardenia Street, in the old white house further down.”

Your answer shocked the cashier, halting her movement, unbeknownst to the two of you. She immediately composed herself and resumed before anyone could take notice.

“Oh, old Steve Rogers’ place? That’s a lovely house,” the elder beamed, a faraway look on her face. “I remember when he and his wife used to host dinner parties back in the day. Peggy was always a magnificent host, and Steve was equally charming in a silent way. They never had children, those two. It was always just them.”

“When Peggy passed, it hit him hard,” she continued, her eyes turned somber. “Living in a large house by himself, it was probably difficult. I hope he found peace by moving away.”

You didn’t know how to answer, her latter statement left a heavy atmosphere hanging. It was sad to know Mr Rogers’ reason for not living in the house, at the same time it felt you were intruding into your landlord’s personal matters.

Trying to escape the unease, you tried steering the conversation away, awkwardly, “He’s a very attentive landlord, I’m glad to have gotten him as one, honestly. He��s really nice.”

That seemed to do it, for a small smile returned to her face.

“I’m glad to hear it, dearie,” she said, handing your groceries from the cashier. “Stay safe, and if you hear any rumours, just know that the youngsters here like to pull pranks all the time,” she laughed.

Curious, but not wanting to press, you took your bags and paid. You bid the old lady a farewell and rushed to your car, remembering Peaches was still inside.

“Mrrreow.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m here,” you greeted, turning the ignition. “Sorry it took awhile, bought you some treats to make up for it.”

Before you could reverse out of the parking lot, a series of knocks came on your window. Looking to your left, you saw it was the teen cashier. She gestured for you to roll down your window, her hands frantic.

“Did I leave something behind?” you asked, rolling down the window a bit.

“No, nothing, it’s all fine. I’m just here to warn you,” she said, peering through the small gap you rolled down, eyes frenzied. “You should get out of that house while you still can.”

Ah, this must be what the elder woman meant. Another one of those spooky stories.

“My grandma thinks it’s all crap, but trust me, that house ain’t what you think it is,” she finished, her eyes turning into slits.

“No, thank you. I like that house, thank you very much.”

Brows furrowed, she scoffed, “Last Halloween, me and a couple of friends went there as a dare. I swear to God, we saw a man walking through the house in the dark. I’m not making this shit up!”

“I’m sure you did,” you replied tersely. “Now, is that all? I have somewhere to be.”

Moving away from your vehicle, the teen glared at you, eyes hard. You reversed out of the parking space, watching the girl in the rearview mirror get smaller and smaller as you drove away. She never ceased her gaze, staring until your car disappeared.

Watching you drive away, she whispered beneath her breath, voice carrying into the wind.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

This afternoon’s interaction left you weirded out. You heeded the older woman’s advice, shutting down any outrageous stories concerning your new home. Especially from kids who trespass other people’s property in the name of dares.

Downing the last bit of tea —courtesy of your landlord— you headed upstairs, getting ready for bed.

Turning in, you shut the bedside lamp off, plunging the room in semi-darkness; the moonlight from the balcony was the only source of luminance.

Forgetting about the day’s events, you closed your eyes, falling into a dreamless slumber.

...

Screeeech!

A sudden noise awoke you. Loud and clear, like nails on a chalkboard. Like a high-pitched shriek, before fading away into nothing.

With bleary eyes, you snatched your phone from the bedside table. It read 3:25AM. Too early.

Too exhausted to comprehend, you fell asleep once more, deafened to the outside world.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖

The blaring of the phone’s alarm woke you up, its buzzing reverberating. Groggy, you sat up, feeling sated yet still sleepy. Either yesterday’s events were really draining, or the tea really did its trick.

Eyes still heavy, something caught your senses. You sniffed a few times, detecting a scent. Woody, sooty. The scent of a burnt wick perhaps, except it clouded every part of the room. It was familiar.

Taking in the room, nothing seemed amiss. Nothing seemed burnt, nor faulty. No chewed up wires. No spilled perfumes. Yours sat neatly on the vanity, not a single drop vanished.

The closet was the same, nothing seemed burnt as you checked. The bedside lamps and sockets were working well, no burnt fuses. You were beginning to think something might’ve happened when you awoke last night. You were starting to get paranoid.

Opening the bedroom door, nothing seemed different in the hall. Only, the scent stopped there, confined to only the bedroom. Going back in, you threw the balcony door open, hoping to air out the scent. Pleased, you left to get ready.

As soon as you left the bathroom, Peaches was in the bedroom, sat by the foot of the bed. Blue eyes clear and imploring, watching as you dressed. You wondered what goes on in her head at times.

“Come on, let’s eat,” you called, closing the balcony doors before leaving the room. Peaches trotted behind, not before giving one last glance towards the bed, or rather, what was beneath it.

—

A surprise came for you after work in the form of Sam Wilson. A bouquet of white roses and baby breaths in hand, he whooshed into the clinic dramatically with his signature toothy smile. Acting as if he was the hero of a rom-com, confessing to the heroine in front of an audience to demonstrate his undying love. To prove your point, you swore you heard the receptionist sigh.

“Dr Hottie, I presume?”

Amused, you decided to play along. “O Samuel, wherefore art thou Samuel?”

“A surprise for milady,” he proclaimed. “As payment, I require one kiss from thee.” Receiving the bouquet, you sealed the deal with a peck.

Embarrassed by the numerous pair of eyes, you took Sam’s elbow and steered him towards the entrance. This wasn’t his first surprise visit here, but you preferred the affection without the attention.

“Samuel, where is thy chariot?”

“Tony drove me here, I took the bus to work today,” he explained. “He asked if you wanted to back out of the bet, said he’ll understand.”

You grinned, tossing Sam your keys. “Tell him I’m not about being a sore loser.”

You both drove off, with Norah Jones soft falsetto accompanying in the background. The passing scenery lulling you both, soaking in each other’s presence.

As minutes passed, you began to think about yesterday’s events and what they entail. The older woman and her teenage grandchild. The teen whose stare pierced, never wavering. Her tale, which when you think about it, could’ve held some truth. The supernatural seemed like a far reach, but it didn’t mean there weren’t other possible explanations for the truth.

The more you dwelled on it, the more it didn’t make sense. Until you thought about what awoke you last night. It sounded like a high-pitched scream but at the same time it wasn’t.

Glancing towards Sam, you thought about how to bring it up to him. It could be nothing, and you hoped it was nothing.

“Hey baby,” you started. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“What is it?” he hummed, giving you a glimpse.

“Last night I heard something like a high-pitched shriek? It was like ‘eeeeh!’, like a firework before it goes off,” you described, gesturing. “It woke me up, but I don’t think it happened inside, it sounded distant. Do you have any ideas what it might be?”

Giving a low hum, he started tapping the wheel, thinking. “Your house has a speed bump in front, right?”

“Huh-uh,” you confirmed, confused.

“Some old cars when they hit the brakes, they produce this loud screeching sound,” he explained. “Here, let me demonstrate.”

Approaching a speed bump on the road, Sam slowed down and pressed the brakes. A loud squeal was emitted, short yet piercing. It went by fast as it came.

“Like that, except it could be louder for cars without maintenance.”

You nodded. In your heart you knew it wasn’t the same, but you let it go.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩

“Baby!” Sam hollered from across the hall. “Have you seen my razor?”

Pausing your mascara, you called out, “No, I haven’t! Did you check the cabinets?”

Sam had stayed the night, accompanying you. He held you through the night, limbs tangled in the sheets. He could never keep away for long. Always coming back.

“I did, I swore I left it on the sink last time,” he said, standing by the door with his arms crossed, a towel the only garment protecting his dignity. “Maybe, just maybe… It’s the ghosts! Wooo,” he booed, lips exaggerated in an ‘o’, fingers wiggling in the air. You rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Hurry up, I have to drop you off at the bus stop or you’ll be late,” you grumbled, returning to the task at hand. Sam cackled.

—

Friday nights were always movie nights at your abode. It was a sacred tradition between you both, unless prior engagements were made.

Sam would come over with take-out and drinks while you prepared the popcorn and blankets. Tonight, you both decided to take it up a notch; a blanket fort in the parlour with rose petals scattered, courtesy of Sam.

Your boyfriend had brought his speakers, setting them up beside the coffee table the laptop was perched. Both the chesterfield sofas were brought closer, acting as the foundation for your canopy. It was quite the set-up.

“Caramel or salted?” you got up, moving towards the entryway of the dining room.

“Caramel baby,” he replied, making a face. “Who eats salted? Those are nasty.”

Too used to his antics, you moved to the kitchen to heat up the kernels. While waiting, you began hearing faint scratching. You turned to check. It became distinct when you entered the hallway, slowly creeping, ultimately leading you to the basement.

Feeling a sense of familiarity, you pushed the black door. What greeted you was Peaches in the inky darkness.

“How did you end up in here again?” you grumbled, exasperated. This was becoming a recurring occurrence. “What do you have in your mouth?”

Trotting up the steps, exiting the basement, Peaches dropped an item by your feet before scurrying away. You heard a hiss, followed by Sam’s screech. Peaches must’ve found him.

You leaned down to check what she brought up. It was Sam’s razor.

—

That night, as you lay next to Sam under the canopy of the fort, a distant rumbling stirred you. Followed by a loud screech. It lasted for a second, but it was enough to arouse you.

“Sam, did you hear that?” you whispered, shaking your partner.

“What what?” he mumbled, still sleep laden.

“The screeching sound.”

Sam never opened his eyes, he only snuggled closer. “T’was probably cars. Go to sleep,” he mumbled, dozing off once more.

You didn’t have the energy to wake him again, knowing it was futile. Silencing all your doubts, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you. With the lingering thoughts of how the noise sounded nearer, pushed to the back of your consciousness.

#sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #dark fic #horror #mystery #bucky barnes fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction

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nomazee · 4 years

Text

Enigma

tendou satori x reader; side ushijima & reon & reader friendship

word count: 2900+

content: slowburn (as slow as it can get in <3000 words), developing friendships, platonic relationships (this is pretty much,,,not romantic at all???), brief mentions of past bullying/exclusion, mild trust issues, fluff

cross-posted on my ao3

(WOW OKAY so first off,,,not to flex but i’m kind of really proud of this?? i hope it’s as good as i think it is right now--i’m kind of hyped up on caffeine and a lack of sleep so my perception of things might be a little off, to say the least.

i think tendou is an interesting character, and he has a personality that’s sort of,,,,malleable? in a sense? so this is my take on him! but i hope i still kept him accurate to how he’s portrayed in the show.

also !! i’m probably going to be opening up requests soon!! this is still a small blog but once i post my request rules you can feel free to stop by and leave a suggestion in my inbox :)

i really hope you guys enjoy this one!! happy reading!!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Making friends was never an easy process for you. You could count on one hand the amount of friendships you’d initiated yourself, and most of those occurred between the ages of five and twelve. After that, it was not smooth sailing and you found yourself sinking deeper into a pit of self-doubt and self-loathing.

Because, you figured that the only reason you couldn’t form connections deeper than surface-level was because you were… well, you. People never made the effort to approach you, so you didn’t put in the effort either. Though at first it was a tough pill to swallow, you’d convinced yourself that was just how life went as one of the unlucky ones.

Maybe you’d be a bit more content if the lucky ones would retain their distance from you.

In a way, they did. The kids with big friend groups--the typical loud, chatty ones that pushed tables together in the cafeteria to fit their whole squad--didn’t really interact with the likes of you. Not that you minded. You only started to mind when they did start to interact with you in a less-than-pleasant manner.

It started with lingering glances that you felt burn into the back of your neck during lunch. That’s what initially drove you out of the main cafeteria and into the bathroom, where you’d neglect eating in exchange for a quiet, botherless place. Then it led to too-tight smiles being sent your way in the hallways, followed by silent laughter shared among their groups. By then you’d caught on, and tried to distance yourself from them. But things never went as planned for unlucky ones like you.

They’d talk to you in class, eyes narrowed, brows raised, and smiles pulled taut against their conventional features as they chatted about their weekend with you as if you were all old friends.

It hurt more than being alone had. After a while, you learned to be alone and not lonely. You liked it, even. Knowing that these people were feigning friendship for their own sick entertainment only served to hold you back in the grand scheme of school-life.

You remembered all the jeering comments from junior high even when entering your first year of high school. You remembered the comments on your hair (“Yeah! That’s such a cute style! You should wear it more often”) that only led to you holding back tears in the girls’ bathroom during lunch and plucking out bobby pins from within your hair, reverting back to whatever style you typically wore. You remembered comments on your photos that you’d even dared to post online (“I liked your outfit that you wore on your trip last weekend. So cute”) that nearly made you delete your account after heavy consideration.

You remembered a lot of things. Maybe too many for your own good. It’s what led to you lacking trust in everyone around you and analyzing things far too deeply to be healthy.

When you entered high school, you expected things to be the same. Though the same group of people weren’t following you to your choice of school (Shiratoriawa, which you studied frantically for in what you were sure was a subconscious effort to distance yourself from whatever schools they would be attending), you figured that people didn’t change. People didn’t mature. It was still school, after all. No age or grade or whatever would change human nature.

Maybe that’s why Tendou Satori had been such an enigma to you in your first year.

You remembered entering homeroom--no daring makeup, no accessories to your uniform, and hair worn as always--and avoiding the gazes of all your classmates. You plopped yourself into whatever spare seats were in the back and waited for the day to start, quiet and mundane and tiring as always.

What you hadn’t been expecting was someone to talk to you--already, on your first day. As if you were such a visible target for those around you that they could immediately sniff out your inferiority among them.

Bright red hair that seemed to defy gravity was the first feature you noticed. His eyes were a similar color, though certainly darker, and his expression was far too similar to those you’d seen in the past for comfort.

“Hiya! I’m Tendou. What’s your name?”

The greeting went in one ear and out the other, though the general gist of it had stuck inside your head well enough to be able to process it. You averted your eyes from his. The best way to deal with someone like him was to respond, and not hope for, ask for, or do anymore than that.

You gave him your name. His smile only widened.

“Nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends.”

You stayed silent. There wasn’t much point in saying anything. Your nails bit into the skin around your thumbs until it was red and aching.

Weeks passed and Tendou has resigned himself to a strange sort of routine with you. He’d say good morning, ask you about the homework, and make small comments during lecture which you assumed were attempts to get something out of you. Before lunch, he’d ask you if you wanted to sit with him. You’d decline, spend your break in the bathroom, come back to class, and the events from the morning would only repeat themselves with the addition of a polite farewell at dismissal as you two parted to different dormitories.

It was uncomfortable, but you put up with it because--well, what else were you supposed to do?

Tendou was a bit peculiar to you, though. He put up facades of false friendliness just like the old kids from junior high used to do. But whenever you’d catch him in the hallways, he never seemed to walk in groups like they used to. You couldn’t speak for how it was during lunch, considering that you were never really there--but when you occasionally spotted his bright red head of hair bounding through the halls, he was always alone.

You shrugged it off. To be fair, you didn’t see him often outside of class, so the conclusions you’d drawn were bound to be at least a little off.

A couple of months went by. The routine didn’t change, and neither did you and Tendou. You were both the same individuals, and just as always, you weren’t planning on twisting any of fate’s strings.

Tendou seemed to be different, though. He seemed to grow more and more curious of you as time passed. His questions became less vague and more frequent. He started voluntarily walking with you in the hallways whenever lunchtime rolled around. Thankfully, he never questioned it when you parted ways with him and walked in a direction that certainly didn’t lead to a cafeteria.

Until his curiosity peaked, early in the morning before homeroom started.

He greeted you, as always, and let you simmer in comfortable silence for a minute before he decided to prod at you.

“Hey, [Name]. I never see you in the lunchroom. What’s that about?”

You paused. No one ever really asked you about that before. You blinked once, then twice, and cleared your throat.

“I don’t like going there.” You didn’t know where your sudden streak of honesty came from. Even Tendou seemed a bit shocked at your suddenly-informative response, and seemed to make the most of this unusual occurrence.

“So, where do you go instead? Library?”

“No.”

“Then…?”

“Bathroom.”

“...oh…? Why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”

Oh. The pattern came back. “No, thank you.”

“C’mon! Just this once. I promise. And then you can come back if you want, but you don’t have to.” You retracted your previous statement. Usually Tendou would let you do your own thing after asking once, but this was different. Again.

You took the time to consider his suggestion--again, something that was unfamiliar to you. Maybe just once. Just to analyze more of who he was and who his friends were--if he had any. You��d keep your expectations low, you promised yourself. (But a voice at the back of your head giggled in childish excitement at the prospect of maybe having an actual acquaintance.)

You agreed, and Tendou made an exclamation of victory that you couldn’t help but find a little endearing.

When lunchtime rolled around, Tendou bounded to you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you along to the cafeteria (which you’d never seen before, so you couldn’t help but stare in mild awe at the grandeur of it). He’d asked you if you were buying lunch--you said no, as you never really had an appetite this time of day and he gave a playful frown, flicking you on the forehead and reminding you that you still had to eat and stay healthy.

Since you hadn’t gone on line, he didn’t, either. You voiced your guilt and he shrugged, dragging you a long to a separate stand away from the main line and purchasing a few snacks for you to share.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you told him. “You really don't have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense!” Tendou exclaimed. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure you were well-fed?”

Though the nature of his words were playful, you found a hint of something in his eyes and tone. Something that, despite your years of analyzing people’s body language and tone and words, you simply could not deduce that easily and put a label on.

You paused. It was so foreign to you, but Tendou seemed almost… genuine.

His smile became more soft rather than teasing, and he took the initiative to take hold of your wrist again and lead you to his table. Whereas you initially expected a large group of loud, coquettish boys you were met with a near-empty circular table occupied by two other boys.

“Miracle Boy! Reon! This is the girl I told you about!” Your steps faltered for a minute--he’d told them about you? Maybe he was less genuine than you thought.

‘Miracle Boy’ seemed like an amusing nickname, though, different from the ones you’d heard before. You couldn’t tell which boy had which name, though, leaving you in the dark as you and Tendou took a seat next to each other.

One boy had dark brown hair while the other had a strange olive color. The former gave you a smile, like the one you’d seen Tendou give you just moments before.

“I’m Reon. This is Ushijima.” He introduced him and his friend, and you found a wobbly, unfamiliar smile playing on your lips. “You’re [Name]? Tendou has told us abit about you.”

You didn’t know how to take that, and your hesitation must’ve shown in your expression as Reon gave you a gentle chuckle and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“All good things. Nothing to worry about.”

With introductions and mild reassurance out of the way, casual conversation proceeded amongst the four of you--well, mainly among the three of them. You didn’t really find yourself inputting anything into the conversation too often, preferring to listen and nibble on the food Tendou had offered you, nodding along to whatever discussion they had.

You realized that the way Tendou interacted with Reon and Ushijima, who you assumed were his close friends, was very similar to the way he interacted with you. It made you separate him from your initial interpretations of his character and hold him in a much better light, though still with a hesitation you simply couldn’t get rid of that easily. Reon was calm and very friendly, asking for your input at certain points in the conversation in what you saw as a genuine attempt to involve you in their group. He was observant, you thought, noticing his eyes glancing your way occasionally and taking in your body language before asking you certain questions and shooting kind smiles your way. Ushijima was quiet and seemed indifferent to your presence--which you appreciated. You’d rather have him indifferent than hateful or jeering, and you didn’t take it personally. He just seemed to have that sort of personality.

By the end of lunch, you found yourself smiling and enjoying yourself. They didn’t seem like the same type of people you knew from junior high. It was a new experience, though not an unwelcome one, and you asked Tendou once you returned to class if you could join him again tomorrow.

“Always, [Name]!” He shot you one of his blinding, playful grins and you couldn’t hold back the upwards drag of your lips.

That day you found yourself reciprocating his farewell at dismissal, giving him a wave, a smile, and a nod before making your way back to the girl’s dorms.

This was good, you thought. Very good.

Another month passed by, and you developed a routine different than the previous. You’d say good morning, and ask how volleyball practice had been the day before (which you learned he attended early on in your newly-formed friendship). You and him would chat during lulls in class, passing notes occasionally if you felt the need to talk while the teacher was still droning on. When lunch came, he’d take gentle hold of your wrist and lead you to his table--or, on certain occasions, to his volleyball practice, where he made sure you were comfortable despite the intimidating-looking coach. At the end of the day, you’d say goodbye, with a promise to talk to him the next morning or after the weekend was over.

It took you a while to get used to. But you certainly weren’t mad at it, and Tendou’s presence made it easier for you to adjust than you once thought it would be. You’d stuck to interacting with him only during school--which, in your defense, was what you thought most people did. The concept of meeting up with classmates off school grounds, actually leaving your dorms during the weekends rather than staying holed up in your room as your roommate went out and had her fun--it was even more alien than any other newly-adapted-to-concept had been for you.

When he suggested exchanging phone numbers, you blinked owlishly at him before processing the fact that maybe that was something you should’ve done a long time ago and obliging to the task. When he asked you to go to the mall with him, Reon, and Ushijima, you repeated the dumbfounded gesture once again, before giving a halfhearted smile and nodding along.

You were nervous, there was no doubt. But you sucked it up, put on a modest, but (somewhat) stylish outfit, and walked to the train station with your three friends. (It was almost amusing for you to see that number placed next to that word and used in a context referring to you--but you giggled in your room thinking about it and couldn’t find the strength to doubt yourself.)

Tendou greeted you outside the girls’ dorms, and you felt nervous as he paused on his typical greeting to look you up and down. In the middle of wishing you’d grabbed an oversized sweater rather than the cropped jean jacket you chose, Tendou gave a bright, comforting smile, and laced his fingers with yours.

“You’re pretty, [Name].”

You couldn’t help but take apart that sentence as the two of you walked to the train station, Tendou’s endearing rambling becoming a consistent buzz at the back of your head. He stated it like it was fact. He was so sure in everything he said, and this time it was no different. There was no stopping the creeping grin appearing on your face, and Tendou seemed to take notice as his hand squeezed the slightest bit tighter around yours.

To put it simply, the trip to the mall was fun. Reon gave you a gentle yet knowing look as you and Tendou approach with hands still interlocked, and you were sure you saw Ushijima crack a smile or two during the duration of your trip. Tendou didn’t leave your side--which you felt the slightest bit guilty about, but he managed to brush that internal guilt away wordlessly with simple smiles and his sheer presence.

Though the four of you barely purchased anything other than food, Tendou made the effort to drag you into a children’s accessory shop while Reon and Ushijima went to order food for all of you. At your confused expression, he leaned down to your height, narrowed his eyes, and analyzed your face before bursting out into giddy giggles.

“I think you should style your hair more often,” he’d told you. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think these clips would look nice.”

You left the store with a large, full bag in hand, filled with colorful, bright accessories that Tendou bought and made you promise to wear at least for the next week. It was a childish bargain, sure, but one you knew had deeper meaning than what was just spoken. There was something more in his eyes that you couldn’t hep but smile fondly at as you both left the store and faced Reon’s and Ushijima’s faintly amused expressions.

Tendou had started off as an enigma to you. He was someone strange--someone you assumed to be the same type you seemed to constantly find yourself tied up in, only to flip that judgement on its head and become the exact opposite.

The thing about enigmas is that they’re not good or bad--they’re just weird. They’re different, they’re confusing, they’re something new. It was the perfect way to describe Tendou, you thought. He took some getting used to. But he certainly wasn’t bad.

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