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sumire-no-nikki · 6 months

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To Be Here

October. My beloved October. The kotatsu blanket is back on, the indoor plants don't need as much watering, the fallen leaves in the backyard need sweeping and the Summer clothes have been put away. Funny how many friends I've recently chatted with about the bliss that comes with October. It's a burst of orange ochre and apple red in my head. When the season turned, the sun who has since made herself scarce is a warm embrace whenever she pokes her head out. The wind and clouds are constant companions. The evening is perfect for mysterious reads under candlelight. What a splendid month.

As I am typing this, however, October is nearly done. Something this good always leaves too soon, doesn't it? I love the first taste of cold after the pesky Summer heat and September’s false promises of colder days. October is where it really gets going. But it's always nearly done before I feel like I can properly savor it. How melancholy!! But isn’t that how it always goes? Love is more deeply felt after only the crater it left is the one thing you’ve got to remember it by? Love defined by the lack, the absence, the loss? There will never be enough Octobers for me. I’m a creature of want in this way, yearning is an instinct for me. I watch the days go by and the thought that there won’t be another October until next year is like quicksand for my mind.

That said I’ve spent the month working diligently and on the whole being rather productive in both work and personal matters. There’s this project I’ve started and making good progress on! Once completed I promised myself a trip where I can apply what I’ve learned and I’m so excited to reach that goal. I’ve also read a lot this month. I really surprised myself. I’ve read six books and the month isn’t over yet! I read two Agatha Christie books, all three of the Toshikazu Kawaguchi series (the fourth one is coming out next month!! And I’ll have to read the fifth one in Japanese because I don’t want to wait for the translation to come out!!!) I also read Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library as recommended by a friend and I'm so glad she brought it up! I've had a copy of it for ages but just never managed to pick it up due to associated memories (it was given to me by someone during a bad period in my life!!) I swear that book might've just saved my life. I also finished two manga volumes in Japanese this month. It's a series called Yotsuba&! which is just the most wholesome series. Maybe I'll talk about it someday on here. But that series is such a light in my life. I picked it up on one particularly tough day last week and it instantly revived hope in my heart that there's still good out there no matter what.

Other things I've been up to: I've been running a lot these days and I'm actually surprising myself with how much I enjoy it. Earlier today (I'm typing this before bed) I went on a run while it was drizzling. I felt like a kid playing in the rain. I couldn't stop smiling!

Also, the podcast show I mentioned some entries ago!! Case 63!! It has a season 2!! Actually, I found out it's originally by a Chilean writer, so the version I listened to is an English adaptation. Anyway, I'm so happy there's more of it. Season 3 is the final season in Spanish so I expect the English adaptation of that will also be made (since they went so far as to continue with season 2). Fingers crossed! I'm so intrigued as to how it will end!!

As for TV, I started and finished watching HBO's Barry in like a week. I was absorbed!! All four seasons! Mind you, each episode is only 30 mins so it wasn't really that long. It's such a funny and dark show I love it so much. I've heard good things about it through the years but I never found the time to get into it. Plus I have this terrible illness of "I-Can't-Get-Into-Things-When-It's-Super-Mainstream-I-Need-To-Wait-Until-The-Hype-Dies-Down-itis" lol. No, seriously I just didn't feel like getting into a new show until this month apparently. But I'm so glad I watched it. The show is a goldmine, the best Hollywood/LA culture satire I've seen in ages. The way it highlights the gender gap in the workplace, how a writer must compromise on truth in order to sell something, even the way a woman needs to be a "perfect victim" in order for her story to be worth anything! It's so witty!! And the central question of can people truly change--I'll be thinking about this show for a long time. It's so good. Watch it if you can.

Early this month I also managed to sneak a quick trip to Croatia and Slovenia which was so relaxing and peaceful. Trips can be quite stressful for me especially when it's a big city full of tourists due to my OCD (I'm looking at you Paris, and literally all of Italy smh... jk jk) But this trip was restorative and gave me a genuine sense of discovery and wonder, which is what I aim to travel for.

I've been listening to the new Mitski album and rethinking my home library's organisation system! I haven't decided yet but I mainly want my Classical Mythology books, both fiction and non-fiction in one area. Also wishing I bought two Caryatid statues in Athens last year instead of one! Would've been nice for her to have a buddy!!

Now, the title of this entry comes from a realisation I had this month--a very important one. As someone whose nature is to think and think and think, it's difficult to be in the present. I'm always in agony over the past, and anxious about the future. I can be quite dismissive of what's in front of me as a result. This is a chronic issue of mine. But while reading The Midnight Library, tucked in my reading chair, savoring the scent of a pumpkin pie candle, all the pieces of advice I've read both online and in person suddenly clicked.

When writing a first draft of a novel, it simply needs to exist.

When making art, it simply needs to be there.

When yearning to do something, I must attempt it

When wanting to exist, I simply am.

I just need to be here in the most literal sense. To be. Not in the past tense, not in the future tense. There's no need for qualifiers. There is no standard to fulfill. I know this is neither new nor revolutionary, but in the embrace of an October evening, digesting this advice and accepting it made me feel so brave.

It hit me like a sucker punch. I thought, I need to untangle my sense of self and my worth from anything external. I cannot keep on doing this to myself. Because the truth is if I don’t stop this constant self-flagellation, I have simply replaced my mother in adulthood. I will have been no different from her and her constant need to criticise me. This is something I've been actively trying to improve recently and I can feel myself getting better. I feel, somewhat ironically, that by being present, I'm regaining a sense of hope that I haven't felt since childhood. Like somehow my past is healed and my future is assured.

So despite how much I've gone on about loving October at the beginning of this entry, as much as I know I will miss it, I have to be where I am. That means accepting that all things end--good or bad. That means being in November when it comes. That means understanding that what I've lost, while dearly missed, is out of my grasp now. That means what will happen to me is tomorrow's business.

This entry's song I've repeated to death (which is a very good thing) this month. It's by an artist I really enjoy. I cannot wait for new material from her and this new single is a sign of really good things to come!

I leave you with a photo of a friend I made while out on a walk. What shall I name him?

Have a wunderbaaahhh rest of Octobaaaahhh! 🐑

#diary #sumire-no-nikki #Spotify

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 6 months

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WOOZI LIKES SEX SONGS??? WAIT WHEN WAS THIS AND HOW DID I MISS IT...and you're right he's so good at writing self confident songs wtf genius god of music woozi

OH... IT'S OKAY!! YOU'RE NOT A FRAUD YOU'RE JUST...AN IMAGINER.... WE DO NOT JUDGE AROUND HERE, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU'RE AWESOME

omg okay choose the venue brie 🙄🙄🙄

UR RIGHJT 20s SLANG IS SO FUNNY...giggle juice reminds me of that meme that goes 'the bob got me crunk' IDK IF YOU'VE SEEN IT BUT THAT'S GIGGLE JUICE

OH MY GOD I DIDN'T KNOW GALLAGHER GIRLS IS A BOOK WHOOPS...it sounds so interesting tho??? i'm a sucker for spy books tbh...and who's zachary goode??? tell me more!! ALSO TELL ME ABOUT THE OC NICK. WHAT'S HE LIKE

ALSO WHERE CAN I WATCH DOCTOR WHO AND SUPERNATURAL??? IF THEY'RE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU TO HYPERFIXATE ON THOSE SHOWS, THEN THEY'RE GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME

you like requests that are different?? whoops...sorry i just gave you something really generic...but i will keep that in mind!! i will think about asks that will lead to a relationship because that's actually the best ending hands down

I POSTED MY BEST FRIEND ON MY STORY (a guy) AND HE LEFT ME ON DELIVERED LMAOOOOOO WHY IS HE LIKE THIS?? (i might block him, thank you btw...) (treat you better plays in the background)

why is it fair for your friends to be mad at you??? not to pry but like can't you choose who you want to be friends with ?😭 don't get sick thinking about it wtf you deserve better

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR GOING OFF ABOUT HTINGS THAT YOU LIKE??? I'LL GLADLY LISTEN <3

-🫨 anon

I keep a watchful eye of his spotify playlist…. Nasty by Arianna grande PLUS HE LIKES BRUNO MARS AND JUSTIN BIEBER and he used to really like fine by me by chris brown (he was jamming to it in a very old video) and while i digress the majority of these are kinda baby sex songs THEY ARE STILL SEX SONGS

AN IMAGINER 🥹

This is kinda lame but i’ve always kinda adored a forest venue kinda like in twilight i guess 😭 Imagine it.. a wedding, in the snow... bridesmaids in like sage and blush colors IT SEEMS MAGICAL

I LOOKED UP THE MEME AND I AM LAUGHING SO HARD THATS THE GIGGLE JUICE!!!!!!!

I DONT THINK ITS A SUPER POPULAR BOOK SERIES MOST PEOPLE I KNOW DON'T KNOW THE SERIES

Zachary Goode is one of the boys that goes to Blackthorne Academy and HE IS LITERALLY SO HOT the first time they meet HE OUT SPIES HER which is CRAZY if you read the first book because she is the best spy at Gallagher academy. i don't remember too much about him but he is a huge flirt and in the second book (when we meet him) he is just so respectful of her and obsessed with her.... He's perfect PERFECT.

YOU CAN WATCH DOCTOR WHO ON I BELIEVE HBO MAX they took it off netflix a few years ago... like what the fuck... AND YOU CAN WATCH SUPERNATURAL ON NETFLIX STILL. I miss that show, they're doing a con right now somewhere in... england I think I saw and I'm so jealous...

ALSO SHUSH. THAT WAS A PERFECT AMAZING IDEA AND YOU HAVE A PERFECT SEXY BRAIN I LOVE IT

HE LEFT YOU ON DELIVERED?! THATS SO ANNOYING you should be able to post your best friend in peace... I am very excited about this update by the way... I would live and die for every tiny detail about your love life so whenever you want to tell someone about it :))) it could be me :))) ^.^

ALRIGHT ILL GIVE YOU THE WHOLE TLDR this started when my friends moved to mornings. The two people I am closest to at work are my friends Sophia and Rachel and they are both directors at my store while I am just a manager. So ALREADY I'm jealous because they get to go to all these director's meetings together, and then they both move to mornings and not only does that suck because they get to see each other all the time and I see them maybe twice a week BUT THEY LEFT ME WITH ALL THE GUY MANAGERS So one of the guy managers I have spoken of before is Ben. And he is the one that I now work with the most. I used to be kinda close with him while he was dating one of the other managers but we kinda waned out of friendship after something happened on one of my leading shifts (it was not deep.)

We will remember Ben as the Capricorn I work with who broke up with his girlfriend because of a conversation he had with our boss about how she is not the kind of girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with (as she had been going to parties a lot???) and then he broke up with her at work right after her shift and as he started his and then he had sexual relations with a FRESHLY 18-year-old girl that he had been doing one-on-ones with for work while he was still sleeping with his now ex-girlfriend and she found out because she went through his watch text messages at work

DRAMA RIGHT AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING, brie he is a terrible person

mhm. So. he is a pretty good friend to have. He is very funny, and is easy to make fun of and he's actually pretty supportive. Working with him all of the time I have gotten closer to him. I used to go to the gym with him and my other coworker Blake but when all the aforementioned stuff happened I stopped. Anyways we all started seeing each other at the gym again and THEN my coworkers Nam and Blake moved to the same apartment 'neighborhood' as me. I joked with them that I would be at their apartment all the time cause we live so close

I've always been kinda friends with Nam since we both like anime and we're the same age, but we aren't actually that close. Anyways Blake was having his birthday party at Nam's apartment and I got myself invited because I am annoying :) And the people there are Daniel, Blake, Nam, and Ben. Somehow, that turned into this group of people hanging out EVERY tuesday. I left my sweatshirt and Nam's apartment on Blake's birthday and so everytime Nam saw me he would loudly be like WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK TO GET YOUR SWEATSHIRT (as if we had fucked and I like it there... humiliating) so I start getting invited to hang out with the group which has extended to adding Minnie, Cassidy, my friend Justin, my coworker Aaron and his friend Kellen.

This is a WEIRD group of people and my friend Rachel does get jealous pretty easily. They both HEAVILY judge me for my friendship with Ben (fair) and they really judged me when I told them about the hangout so I didn't show up like two weeks in a row but for some reason they always text me and call me if I don't show up so I've started going anyways

Rachel doesn't react to my bereals if Ben is in them

So Rachel had taken over the schedule and on the very few times that I got to see her I would joke that she purposely moved herself to mornings cause she doesn't want to work with me. Anyways I am mean when I joke. I know this. I tell people this because I'm really insecure about it because I'm so "nice" all the time no one believes me and then I hurt someone's feelings and I want to cry. So anyways she started crying because of these jokes and she said she felt like I was mad at her.

I wasn't but I also was a little because also we were supposed to hang out with some other friends Emilee, and Chelsea and my friend Dawn and Emilee said she couldn't hangout that day and they planned to hang out then anyways without even trying to find a different day that would work. That's shitty. And then she said that she just really wanted to hammer down a day because she had been trying to plan this since august but like that was just bullshit it was the ONE day Emilee couldn't hang out she just didn't try hard enough and didn't even care that she was leaving Emilee out of it.

SO I was really stressed cause I didn't know how to tell them I thought that was really shitty. And also during ALL of this I am really really depressed. I don't want to talk to anyone, every single shift I worked I would cry because it was so hard and then I ran out of my anxiety meds so I was having panic attacks every single shift.

Anyways Rachel tells me I'm mean, she cries, I cry and then try to ice them out because I don't want to cry and make it all about myself. I have a cute breakdown.

It's really confusing to have this weird group of friends who really want to hang out with me and then Rachel and Sophia who want to hang out with me but also know that Rachel is mad at me. And it's really stressful to remember that if I talk about the people I am hanging out with the most and who seem to want to talk to me the most then my other friends will be mad at me. But if I don't hang out with that weird group of friends I will be so lonely because the only other person that I want to talk to all the time is busy and I am definitely smothering them cause I'm so fucking annoying

So, also I have no one to talk to about work. Rachel and Sophia don't work with the people I work with. I complain about everything if I can and also when I complain about things that Ben do they immediately get him in trouble for it by dragging our store operator into things when they aren't that serious and I am already dogging on him for it so now it's like if I complain about ben it gets back to him and one of these days he is going to be mad at me for it

I always say I can't complain about things because there are always consequences so I stopped complaining about things at work and Rachel and Sophia get mad at me for not talking about work things because we basically don't talk like at all.

However case and point, I told them ages ago that I wanted to learn interviews and they pretended to be excited about it and I mentioned it to them more than once and then a month later they are training James. Not me. So I ask Rachel oh is James learning interviews as if I didn't want to immediately start sobbing upon seeing it. And she immediately said some shit about brittni (our bosses wife) wanting to make sure I wasn't too stressed with school. I ASKED TO LEARN INTERVIEWS. WHY WOULD I ASK IF I WOULD BE TOO STRESSED ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF SCHOOL.

so I complain about it in passing to Blake and my boss over hears that I am upset about something but I don't tell him because I am being a baby right. Well my boss follows up with blake and blake tells him the truth and then my boss thinks that I am upset at him over it. Which I'm not. my boss didn't know I wanted to do interviews. So after our cute little "you should have asked me" chat I cried and then because of that I think rachel got in trouble because I immediately got scheduled to learn interviews.

I DONT WANT TO DO IT NOW. I complained and now everyone things I'm a fucking cry baby. which I am.

and i just. am so greatful for the friends I have but I'm miserable everyday and people are mad at me cause I don't talk about my feelings anymore and I don't even know what they think I just can;t do anything without upsetting anyone.

I don't know. I just really need a therapist but no one will get back to me so I'm just stuck with a dumb psychiatrist who things higher doses of sedative medicine will cure my anxiety and thus minimalize my depression. Whatever. I just hate being a cry baby and being so mad at myself for being a cry baby and then having people tell me how nice and great I am, like I'm not you know what i mean? AND YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN narcissist. Oh boohoo a bunch of people want your attention and want to hang out with you that's so hard. And then on top of that I have to reject a 32-year-old anime coworker who hasn't even asked me out yet.

AND THAT IS WHY IT IS FAIR THEY ARE MAD AT ME and why I should choose not to be friends with my weird group of friends and why I am stressed about it every day sigh

ALSO PRY AWAY again I am such a baby narcissist I love talking about myself sigh

#You can ignore the extremely long deep dive of my social life I think I went overboard but I literally can't tell a story and make it #genuinely brief #a story about going downstairs to get mail can be a ten minute story would you believe #i am. Crazy #IN A GOOD WAY #since you'll see this when you wake up I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL #also you know those people who like... get tired of people and you know that one day they will get tired of you #sigh.#i just want to talk to them all the time every day but I don't think they feel the same anymore and it hurts.

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corndoggod · 1 year

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Linden Blvd, dawn, Saturday

I got up early, before the sun was up, to work on a story. It was not my story but someone else’s. My job was to make sure people read it. It was an investigative story that piles on to a developing story everyone has been talking about for over a month. That’s what happens when people finally agree. And people can only agree over flaming toxins. It was my job to climb the hill of ink already spilled on this story and plant this story like a flag for all to see.

I only got three hours of sleep. I felt slow and sluggish. My task was impossible without coffee so i packed a double espresso and ran the machine twice. Four hours later my hands are trembling writing this. Idk if it’s the caffeine or lack of sleep. Maybe my body is adjusting. It’s been like this the last two weeks - rising before the sun, running on five hour naps when I’m an eight hour baby.

I took my coffee and opened my computer to HBO. I fell asleep watching a video game about mind controlling mushroom, which reminded me how quickly I’d die in New York if disaster ever struck.

Just five hours ago I was at Coyote, which was quiet for Friday. DJ Preschool was playing and that’s all we needed. He slid into Vic’s DMs after she hired him to DJ our friend Nick’s 30th in the bottom of some Ridgewood basement one freezing January night when it was impossible to get warm. “This is what it was like in Nebraska all of Christmas” I said to Celina over and over through chattered teeth.

DJ preschool is coming up on 70 and his scalped mop of white hair is thinning but his music bangs. Tonight’s set was gooey, bouncy house music. He was wearing the same shirt from Nick’s bday. I remembered bc it had Nicky’s name on it. It was something like Nicky’s unisex salon.

It was just Celina and Vic and me at bar. It was raining. Not hard, but enough to turn the trepid away. I would’ve probably stayed in had I not been fielding to get tucked up. It’d been a long brutal work week. The third in a row and I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. Just forks and decisions and mistakes in waiting.

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 1 year

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Guys, a little recap of this phil’s monologue?! Thanks😅 (I don’t have reddit)

i'm sorry, i literally can't recap this essay the man wrote. here it is lol

Phil152·14 hr. ago·edited 13 hr. ago

Arriving together and leaving separately was Deuxmoi's initial report, a submission from an anonymous source published on her IG.

In the podcast, of course, Deuxmoi leaves out the "leaving separately" part, because her modus operandi is to publish completely unverified and anonymous rumors, spin everything in the most sensationalist way possible and see if she can start a feedback loop in the social media echo chamber. She thinks she's covering herself legally by posting regular disclaimers that nothing is verified, that a lot of the information on her site is outright fiction (some of it malicious plants), that she doesn't stand behind anything on her site, and that it's all "just for fun" -- whereupon she then publishes the most sensational gossip she can come up with, some of it potentially quite damaging to her targets.

Sooner or later, she's going to get sued and shut down. Before that happens, she really ought to clean up her act. She shouldn't publish anything for which the source is not willing to go on the record. Short of that, she should at least pick up the phone, run a story past the people involved, and publish the response with her original story. But she almost never does that. She's totally irresponsible and toxic. She does real harm to people who don't deserve it. Anyhow:

I do have an interest in movies and had an eye on the SAG nominations. Evan and Haley were both at the SAG Awards dinner. They were both nominees and did the red carpet thing for that. If you glance at the SAG Awards on various social media, Evan has a small number of other photos and short videos at the main event with other people, but none with Haley. I.e., he was a typical guest, a very pleasant seeming guy and a nominee who didn't win.

Haley's footprint is much bigger. In addition to being a nominee, she was a winner as part of The White Lotus ensemble cast, so she got to take home a statue. Back to the red carpet and numerous photos and video interviews for that. (None with Evan.) In addition, she was a presenter: more photos. (None with Evan.)

Bookending all of that, she had also been named a "SAG Ambassador," which means she was part of the official meet and greet team. She got there early and was glued to the red carpet area even when she wasn't on it, as well as doing behind the scenes stuff. She was doing her job, working the crowd instead of mostly hanging with her own friends, and is all over the SAG Awards social media. (Most frequently asked question: what can she tell us about the making of the Jonas Brothers music video, which was shot at a JB concert in Las Vegas two weeks ago and produced and released in less than a week. That's a cute and funny story, and it has legs. Next most frequently asked question: probably what can you tell us about season 3 of The White Lotus, and do you want to be in it?)

There are only a couple of photos with Evan and Haley together (at least that I've seen) -- but only at the afterparty, not the main event, and not at all suggestive of anything beyond casual conversation.

I wasn't there so I don't know, but I have been involved on the planning and staffing side of more events than I want to remember. (Not Hollywood or other entertainment industry events; think business and politics, but big events.) It would be very typical at an event like this for HBO, which sponsored one of the afterparties, to run a small shuttle bus from the main event venue to the afterparty venue, which in this case was 3-4 miles away. This is a good idea if alcohol is being served. It's also a good idea if you are hoping to get a lot of people at your afterparty. A lot of people will just want to go home after the dinner. Or just go down to the hotel bar with a couple of friends. Transportation and/or parking at the afterparty will be an issue, and you will lose a lot of the crowd if you don't provide a shuttle. So for all we know -- and more importantly, for all Deuxmoi knows -- Evan and Haley "arriving together" means arriving on the same shuttle bus with ten other people. Or maybe they got to talking at the main event, were enjoying themselves, and shared a cab to the afterparty. In DeuxmoiWorld, this would be "hooking up."

Did Haley and Evan hang out enough at the afterparty to catch the eyes of the gossips? Well, they're both adults, they're both single, they're both entitled to a private life, and if they hit it off at a large event and afterparty and enjoyed each other's company, that's fine. Did they know each other before the SAG Awards? I have no idea; I've never seen them linked. Did they enjoy each other's company at the SAG Awards and the afterparty? Apparently, and that's fine. And then, per Deuxmoi's initial report, they left separately.

Deuxmoi will try to fan this into something big, but be aware that, at least at this point, she has absolutely nothing to report except that two people were seen in friendly conversation at a crowded event (again, the afterparty) attended by many other people. In Deuxmoi lingo, that's "hooking up."

[on edit: oops, me bad. I originally was saying "Ethan" rather than "Evan." Too much White Lotus on my mind. Corrected now.]

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almost-a-class-act · 1 year

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Fluffy Seasonal Prompts - December 20th

There’s only one of this in-demand gift left – how do Characters A and B decide who gets it?

Fandom: Band of Brothers (HBO) Pairing: Nixon/Dobie Author's Note: Two fills in one day, because we are getting on top of our shit up here in casa class act. If you don't remember who Dobie is, he's the British officer who condescendingly explains that a torch is a flashlight. Bottom of the rarepair barrel, baby! I will be compiling my holiday fills and posting them together on AO3 after Christmas, where you can find me under roaroftheninth.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Nix says, glancing up at the overhead signage to make sure he’s going the right way. Walmart is not a place he visits very often, and the toy section even less. It’s packed nearly wall to wall with people in here four days before Christmas, and half of the shelves are emptied out. “I have it on pretty good intel that they still have the Barbie Little Dream House in stock. If I have to arm wrestle one of the locals, so be it.”

Harry’s voice on the other end of the line gets closer and further from the phone at intervals as he tries to prevent his daughters from murdering each other with empty wrapping paper rolls. “Well, better you than me in that madhouse this close to Christmas. I did all of my shopping in November.”

“Does that mean Kitty did all of your shopping in November?”

“No, Kitty did all of her shopping in July. Angela, hitting your sister on the head is against the rules. Body blows only, we’ve talked about this.” The line goes slightly fuzzy for a moment, as if Harry has fumbled his phone and then recovered it. “No, don’t gang up on me. Christ. Lew, I gotta call you back.”

The line abruptly goes dead, and Nix raises an eyebrow at it before stowing it in his pocket. This is why he loves having nieces instead of children of his own – ultimately, whether they grow up to be heathens or not is someone else’s responsibility.

Around the next corner, he spots a shelf that is almost completely empty, except for one familiar bright pink box. There are two women ahead of him, chit-chatting as they push a cart, and he dodges around them and reaches for the toy.

Someone else gets a hand on it at the same time.

Nix resists the urge to just yank it out of the guy’s hands – civilization is on the verge of collapsing in this Walmart as it is – and swaps a rueful smile with him instead. He can do charming if he needs to, and all things considered, this guy isn’t not his type.

“Bugger,” says the stranger. “Looks like that’s the last one.”

Nix is pretty sure they both knew that before they got this far, but he’s willing to let this guy play it off. “Yeah, looks like it,” he says. “You know how it is with these hot Christmas toys. Everybody wants one. Two months from now it’ll be something else.”

“You’re not wrong,” agrees the stranger. “Uh, David, by the way.”

Neither of them have taken their hand off of the box, so there is no handshake. “Lew,” Nix replies. “You know, I’m gonna level with you. This toy is all my niece talks about. The moving elevator? She’s not gonna rest until she gets it.”

“I also have a niece,” David informs him. “Extremely single-minded on the Barbie issue.”

Of course. That’s fine; Nix can negotiate. “What’s it gonna take for you to let me have it?” He tries to come across at his most reasonable.

“That is a conundrum.” David eyes him for a moment. “Fancy a trade?”

“Name your price.” Whatever it costs doesn’t really matter; no amount of money in the world can make a Barbie Little Dream House materialize out of thin air this close to Christmas if he doesn’t take home this particular one, and since he reassured his sister that he was picking it up weeks ago, he doesn’t have a lot of options.

“I’m free next Friday.” David doesn’t bat an eye at putting this out there, and Nix is a little impressed by his forwardness despite himself. Apparently British men are not as buttoned up as he’d thought. “If you’d like to go for a drink, that is.”

All things considered, this is kind of looking like a win-win for Nix, and he’s not about to hesitate to jump on it. “Give me your phone,” he suggests. “I’ll put my number in it.”

Apparently deciding that there is a base level of trust established between them, David releases the box and pulls his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Nix accepts it, raising it in a little cheers – saluting his chutzpah – before he adds himself as a contact, under Lew (Walmart Guy).

“Thanks,” he says, as he hands the phone back.

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.” David winks as he pockets his phone, and Nix watches him head straight out of the toy section without so much as looking for a replacement for the Barbie Little Dream House.

“Hey!” he calls, as it occurs to him. “Do you even have a niece?”

David smirks at him, and vanishes into the sporting goods section.

#HBO War Barely Coherent Christmas Chaos #band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth #holiday prompt fill #christmas fluff

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alicitaffairs · 3 years

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only started watching Mare of Easttown because it sounded like something my grandma would like so I wanted to vet it for her before suggesting it, come to find out today that she's been watching it already 🤡

#she only got HBO like two weeks ago!!#this woman is so on trend!!#she goes oh i think a new ep comes out tonight? LIKE OKAY

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mqverick · 2 years

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i’m going back to 505

warnings; slight mature content

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“do you miss him?”

“i miss everything.”

____________________________________________

your roommate invites her boyfriend into the room and introduces him to you. you take one look at each other and time literally stops for a moment. memories of a lifetime together pass in that brief space.

—

i’m going back to 505

if it’s a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

you’d grown to believe that your new roommate was the living definition of over enthusiastic and ecstatic. almost everyone she met would grow to like her and want to spend time with her — even your own friends. there was that one time that you’d planned to go to the cinema with your best friend, and she’d asked whether your roommate could come along. not wanting to be rude, you'd replied with an ‘of course!’, the blood boiling inside your veins. it wasn’t like you weren't fond of her, no.

you were friends and she thought very highly of you, yet there would always be moments where you just wanted to grab the sharpest thing in the room and throw it right into her eye if that meant she would shut up. things got even worse the day she announced she was seeing somebody.

oh, god...

she’d been saying that one guy for almost a month, and today was the day she would be bringing him over at your place in order for the three of you to have dinner together and so that you could finally meet him. she was thrilled about you meeting him, constantly telling you how dreamy he was and that she really cared for your approval. you’d dismissively agreed to the damn dinner thing a week ago, while you were watching an interesting drama series on HBO. she had been watching it with you, or so you thought, because at some point, she repeatedly began to poke your shoulder with her finger.

annoyed by the fact that she wouldn’t stop, you’d turned your head to her, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and that was when she dropped the bomb. that specific moment, you’d been so tired and zoned out that you'd subconsciously replied with a ‘yes, i’d love that’, which was followed by loud squeals and tight hugs from her.

only as the days passed did you realize the problem you’d gotten yourself into, but there was no avoiding it anymore, so instead of whining about it or cancelling the plans the last minute, you forced yourself to bear a few hours with said boyfriend and lovestruck roommate.

it was seven o’clock when the bell rang, signaling his arrival to the apartment.

“on it!” your roommate called from her room, sprinting in the living room and almost tripping over the small rug in her hurry to open the door before you. you were in your own room, brushing your freshly-straightened hair and checking yourself out in the mirror. damn, that sweater looks freaking gorgeous.

“come on in, babe, she’s coming in a sec,” you heard her sing-song. you rolled your eyes before letting out a deep sigh and reminding yourself that you were a woman with manners, which meant that you would face life’s difficulties in the kindest way possible, even if that meant that your single ass that lived in coffee and sandwiches would have to tolerate watching two people in love shamelessly make out in front of you.

“all right, roommie! ready to meet your so called boy—”

you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes caught the frame of a familiar boy with wild, dark curls, mesmerizing green eyes and soft, pink lips. the frame of a boy that was a poignant reminder of the biggest heartbreak you had to go through during your twenty-four years of life.

in my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

february 14th was the date you met him. valentine’s day, as cliché as that may sound to someone. you hated that day with passion, not only because of the constant sting you would feel whenever you saw all those happy couples be parts of intense pda sessions in public places — whereas you were single — but also because of the pointless meaning of that day. you believed that if there was actual love out there, it wouldn’t need a specific day of the year to be shown and celebrated.

you sighed as you stirred your coffee tiredly, chin in your hand, eyes almost fluttering shit as you tore the little sugar bag open and put it in your drink. typical way to spend valentine’s day; alone at your favorite coffee shop, glancing around at all the other couples that were having all sorts of special cakes and coffees. your eyes traveled down to your plain black coffee and an annoyed groan escaped your lips as your phone's screen went black. of course it’d run out of battery...

“this day is the worst,” you mumbled as you got up and looked for a free booth. “um, excuse me, could i sit here for a bit? my phone’s dead and i really need to charge it,” you said to a man that was sitting in the corner booth. he turned around and you were met with the most beautiful features you'd ever seen on someone. he was wearing a light pink sweater and gray jeans, a cup of coffee in his hand as he nodded and moved a little to make room for you to sit.

“i hate this day, you know,” he suddenly spoke.

“me too! it’s absolutely pointless, right?”

“yeah. if someone is in love with their partner, they should celebrate it every day instead of remembering it once in a year.”

his statement made you gasp. never had you thought that you’d find a person who would have the same beliefs as you. “excuse me for asking that, but do you really think so or are you just saying that because you don’t have a girlfriend? or boyfriend, you know.”

he shrugged. “a hint of both, but mostly the first one.”

you chuckled. he was cute. “didn’t catch your name there, stranger.”

“timothée.”

“damn, that sounds royal.”

“not so royal with these bags under my eyes,” he laughed, pointing at the black bags under his eyes. he took a sip from his coffee and the two of you began talking and talking, until it’d gone eleven o’clock and you hadn’t even realized. instant panic overwhelmed you as you unplugged your phone from the charger and shot up from the booth.

“call me then, timothée,” you smirked after writing your number on his napkin with a pen you always carried in your bag. maybe that valentine's day wouldn't be so bad after all...

back at your apartment, you threw your boots in the living room before plopping yourself on the couch and grabbing the remote in your hands. a documentary about forests began playing, but the sounds from the tv faded into the background immediately in your head as you found yourself thinking about a certain person you’d only just met. he was an actor, loved black coffee, mostly listened to rap songs but wouldn’t mind spending a relaxing evening listening to french ballads. oh, he was half-french, and you even made him say something to you in french, his accent coming out sexier than you’d expected.

the vigorous buzzing of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts as you saw an unknown number lighting up in your screen. a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, you knew exactly who it was.

“hello?”

“hi there, it’s timothée from the coffee shop.”

“oh, hey, timothée! how are you?”

“good, good. currently in my apartment. y’know, i was thinking about this girl i kind of met today.”

you chuckled, your fingers toying with the hem of your sweater as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. “oh yeah? tell me about her.”

“she hates valentine’s day just as much as i do. she’s very beautiful and i was wondering if i could see her again tonight at that italian restaurant near my place. ugh, sorry, that sounded really weird, i was hoping it’d come out romantic and not creepy, but i achieved the exact opposite, let me rephrase—”

“speaking on behalf of her, she's a hundred percent in.”

stop and wait a sec

oh when you look at me like that my darling

it'd been three weeks since you and timothée started dating. you were spending your first night over at his place, which was definitely something scary and new to you. not that you didn't have any past relationships, but they weren't exactly serious to you, plus there was that commitment issue you had. nevertheless, you wanted to be prepared for any kind of situation that could occur, so you'd shaved your legs and taken a refreshing bath.

you knocked on the door of his apartment only to be met with him looking like a disaster, hair messed up, some kind of red sauce spilled all over his white shirt, dripping down to his sweatpants as his eyes scanned yours worriedly.

"you were supposed to come over in twenty minutes," was all he said, his voice cracking in the end of the sentence as he ran his fingers through his curls and muttered something in french that you knew it meant 'fuck'.

"came early. why do you look like death, babe?" you asked, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind you as he went in the kitchen, which looked even worse than him. you chuckled softly at the realization of him trying to cook for you and you followed him, sitting down on one of the chairs that were around the table.

"this is terrible. i thought that it'd be nice to cook your favorite food and surprise you, but i'm this close to burning the whole place down. i look disgusting whereas you look like you were made out of a dream and it's totally acceptable if you changed your mind about dating me," he ranted, glancing everywhere but you.

"woah, there, timmy, calm down, please," you laughed, placing your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you. you leaned in and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss on his lips, your arms now wrapped around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, his stained shirt dirtying your own.

"aren't you utterly grossed out?"

"aw, baby," you murmured against his lips, "i could never be. this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me and i could feel nothing but appreciation and thankfulness for you."

"do you mean that?"

instead of replying, you kissed him again, your lips melting against his as his hands found their way to your back, his fingers lifting up your shirt in order for his palms to rest against your cold skin, his thumbs rubbing small circular patterns on the small of your back. you deepened the kiss, your tongue licking his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth and caressing the tip of his. timmy groaned at that, pulling you even closer to him, his now growing bulge pressing against your thigh as your fingers tugged at the curls on the nape of his neck.

"are you aware of the fact that you're making out with me while my tomato-covered shirt is staining yours?" he asked against your lips and you pulled away abruptly, crossing your arms and glaring at him. he looked at you with confusion and raised an eyebrow as of to ask why you looked mad.

"okay, you don't want to have sex with me. is that it?"

"what?! no, of course, i do! i mean, only if you want me to, i'm not going to force you into having sex with me if you don't feel ready yet—"

"timmy, shut up for a second and let me speak. don't ruin the moment and lead me to your bedroom."

he gulped and took your hand in his, taking you to his bedroom. it wasn't that small but it wasn't huge either. there was a bed in the middle of it, a wardrobe at the side, some posters on the walls and a round rug covering most of the floor.

"your bedroom's cute," you stated before stray hung your lips on his again, picking up from where you'd left earlier. timmy picked you up and laid you on his bed, crawling on top of you as he buried his face in your neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your earlobe all the way down to your collarbone. you bit your lip in order to suppress a moan, but he noticed and stubbornly began sucking on the valley of your breasts until you couldn't hold it back anymore. the sound of your cry made him rock hard against his pants, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it gently over your head before throwing it down on the floor. he did the same with his, his fingers ghosting against the clasp of your bra. you let out a frustrated groan and urged him to take it off, to which he obeyed, pushing the straps off of your shoulders as he took a moment to admire you.

"you're so beautiful, mon amour," he whispered.

"i want you, timmy."

he placed a soft peck on your swollen lips before unbuttoning your jeans with a hungry look in his eyes. you'd never been more turned on in your life, your back aching as his hands finally cupped your breasts. you felt embarrassed for being so impatient, but the way he made you feel like you were on top of the world not only aroused you, but almost made you slip out the l-word.

well, that was new...

what did you expect

i'd probably still adore you

with my hands around your neck

you told him you loved him a week later.

the two of you had gone bowling on a friday evening and he was being horrible at even managing to hit a single pin. the ball would always veer off the lane and go into the gutters. he'd stated he hated that game so much, which was adorable given to the fact that he would pout ever time after saying that. you loved his pout. you loved everything he did, you loved him. you were now certain of your feelings for him, yet too scared to say them out loud.

"it's your turn, again," he said with a dramatic eye-roll.

"eat my dust, timo."

"i've eaten the whole sahara desert by now. can we just stop and eat some fries?"

"admit i'm capable of beating your ass and maybe i'll consider it."

"you are more than capable of beating my ass. fries?"

you laughed and nodded. after a few moments, you came back to the table you were sitting with a bunch of baskets with fries and ketchup. timmy rubbed his hands and grabbed two baskets, opening the ketchup dips before shoving quickly several fries into his mouth. you have him the middle finger before taking a bite from your own fries.

"hey, what was that for?" he asked while chewing.

"first of all, mouth closed when you're eating. second of all, i'm staring to believe that you love these french fries more than me and it's honestly sort of offensive," you joked.

"mm, that's impossible."

you stared blankly at him. there were so many things that you wanted to say, tell him you loved him and that he was the first serious boyfriend of yours, your first serious relationship, tell him you were thankful for valentine's day for bringing him in your life. tell him you loved the way his eyes would sparkle up every time he was happy or excited, the way he was softly panting in order to catch his breath whenever he laughed, the way he would let our husky breaths when he was feeling turned on, the way his ears would perk up every time you found a new nickname for him or simply called him 'mon chérie'. you wanted to tell him that he was gorgeous inside and out and that you could spend your entire life telling him how much you adored him.

but it was him that spoke first.

"i love you."

three simple words, yet so meaningful and complicated. you didn't know what love was, though it was a very used and significant word that people used all the time. honestly, you didn't even know if you could ever define love, because you were sure that it differed from person to person. that was, until you met him. suddenly, everything clicked and you could finally understand all those cliché movies your best friend had forced you into watching.

you felt like one of the main characters of an old, sappy romantic movie. your heartbeat had quickened alarmingly much, you were sure your face and neck had reddened, and there was this amazing, newfound feeling inside you that had freed a bunch of butterflies in your stomach.

"was that too soon to say? did i scare you off?" timmy asked after noticing that you'd been staring at him with your mouth agape for two whole minutes of pregnant silence. the moment he was about to start apologising and go for his usual stammer speech, you smiled the biggest grin you'd smiled in years and said those three words he'd been waiting to hear the entire time;

"i love you."

or i did last time i checked

not shy of a spark

"it's your biggest moment, timmy! i'm honestly under the impression that i'm more excited than you," you stated, hitting his arm softly with your fist as the two of you were sitting on the couch, snuggled up close to each other. timmy was supposed to start filming 'call me by your name' the following day, but he seemed rather scared and unwilling to do so, even though he'd gotten over-thrilled once he'd been informed that he'd gotten elio's role.

"i'll have to fuck a peach!"

"so? you're literally going to pretend that you're a horny seventeen-year-old. don't tell me you didn't do weird stuff when you were horny and that age, i most likely won't believe you."

"ew!"

you snickered and he huffed in annoyance, removing his arms from around you.

"now, you're just being dramatic for no reason, babe," you said as you grabbed his hands and put them back in their previous placement. he didn't say anything and you had to start kissing his jawline teasingly in order to earn the slightest hint of reaction out from him.

"i don't want you to see me fucking a peach, it's embarrassing."

"you could fuck an orange and i'd still find you hot."

"is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"a meteor could hit us and i'd still be horny."

"okay, you're not helpful at all," he laughed, pushing you gently off of him, since you'd crawled on his lap and had started attacking his neck with wet kisses. you complained and pouted at him, low-key loving teasing timmy whenever you got the chance.

"chérie, you'll ace in that movie, it's a guarantee. everyone will love it, you."

a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark

frightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the bark

middle of adventure such a perfect place to start

you'd never been the jealous type of girlfriend who would want to keep her boyfriend limited in the four walls of your house, but you suppose there was always a first time for something — either that'd be pleasant or horrible. basically, it started when a huge crowd of mad fans began following you and timothée as you were heading to a bagel shop for your breakfast. their bewildered calls of your boyfriend's name and loud yells had almost drawn the last straw to the point that you wanted to ignore timmy's pleads about staying calm, turn around and yell at them to simply —

no, you were too kind for that.

regardless of his reassurances that he only loves you — no matter how many people out there wanted him — you'd grown insecure. even other celebrities were hitting on him or throwing thirst traps during interviews, which was something that twisted your gut every damn time. you hated that version of yourself with passion. on the one hand, you were extremely happy that timmy was getting recognized and successful, but on the other hand, that toxic hint of jealous wished he was just a normal person, or at least that people would treat him that way.

he was always kind at his fans, a thing you loved about him. you loved seeing him with kids, all euphoric and amused, signing autographs and giving hugs. he was so cute, loving and patient. you knew that sooner or later that moment would eventually come and you would have to deal with the press and paparazzi coming after your relationship with timothée every five seconds, meaning that you would have to hide every time you wanted a moment of privacy with him. for numerous times, you'd told yourself that you'd be fine with that, figure out a solution to your problems after having talked it out with timothée first, which you did, but all the 'i love you's' and 'we'll go through it together' promises weren't convincing enough.

ugh.

you despised the fact that even though he was trying his hardest to let you know how much you meant to him every day, you would still have that constant feel of fear over losing him. for fuck's sake, he was adored by a total of 75% people on earth, including equally famous people and much more beautiful girls, yet he was dating someone insignificant like you. or so you thought. if you could look yourself through his eyes, every single doubt you'd ever raised about your appearance and personality would disappear in a matter of seconds. to him, you were the prettiest, most charismatic and amazing human being he'd ever laid eyes on. he loved all of you; your imperfections, your temper, the way you always got emotional about things that weren't even sad.

sometimes he wished you could see how perfect you were. perfect in your own way.

a successful, hard-working woman that had to go through many rejections, mistakes and failures, but always found the courage to stand up and be a better person. he wished you wouldn't put yourself down all the time, because he wanted you to be anything but humble when it came to describing yourself. he wanted you to brag about your character and personality.

frankly, you wanted to get the chance to see yourself the way he saw you.

maybe then you would put all that newfound jealousy in a box, lock it and throw the key somewhere where nobody would ever find it again. two or three fights had occurred in your relationship, not serious ones though. you needed to accept that jealousy was something human, and perhaps find a way to tone it down, otherwise you were under the impression that you would go absolutely mad.

i'm going back to 505

if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

you remembered how your first date had gone. having watched all those movies, you expected it to be out-of-the-world fantastic and romantic, yet those expectations were never really met. it'd begun great, the two of you were eating at some italian restaurant he'd suggested, drinking wine and telling each other more stuff about your lives. it all got screwed up when at some point, you'd gotten somewhat tipsy and had started laughing hysterically while hearing timmy's high school memories and rap persona — which thankfully, he had abandoned.

your laugh was contagious to him, but everybody else in the restaurant was eyeing you weirdly, mostly because you looked like you were possessed by some kind of demon, chortling your lungs out as your hand kept slapping your knees every two seconds.

eventually, you ended up wanting to reach across the table for timmy's hand, but your movements were so shaky that instead of taking his hand in yours, you accidentally hit his drink, which was spilled all over his crotch area and legs. the laughter died down in your throat once you realized what you'd done, and you quickly gathered as many napkins as you could, getting up from your seat to dry him off.

"oh my god, this has never happened to me before, i'm so sorry!" you apologized worriedly.

timothée only laughed.

"it's okay, i can pay and go change, my apartment isn't that far away."

"i ruined your clothes, i think it's only fair if i pay for the food."

"there's no way i'm letting you pay on our first date."

"there is."

"s'not."

"yes."

"no."

"yes, there is, unless you want me to spill the remaining of my food on you as well."

with a loud groan, he agreed to paying half and half. you accompanied him back to his home, apologizing about the unfortunate event throughout the entire walk. he assured you that it was fine, but you still felt mortified for ruining his clothes and making him walk down the streets looking like he's peed on his pants.

as the two of you reached your destination, you awkwardly stood at the front door steps, facing each other, waiting for either of you to break the silence.

"i had a pretty good time. first time spending my valentine's like that," timmy said, giving you a contained smile. your own grin made him smile harder, an evident red blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears. you tried to muffle a giggle that eventually escaped from your lips when you looked down at his wet crotch, which didn't go unnoticed by him. he attempted to cover it with his hands in embarrassment, his eyes squeezed shut as he cursed in french.

"i know that whatever you just said meant 'shit', chalamet," you teased.

"i feel like i'm trying so hard to be attractive right now but the spilled wine is ruining it."

you laughed again, leaning down and reaching for his hands, placing them around your neck as you made him look up at you. his jaw dropped slightly, green eyes staring right into yours — and damn, his lips looked so soft and pink and kissable, but you weren't going to kiss him, not just yet.

"this was the best valentine's day ever. good night, timothée," you said as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded, staring at you make your way back to your own apartment.

in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

you and timmy had been dating for nearly a year, and you were at the point in your relationship where you were ready to finally move in together. you'd been ready for a while, although you absolutely refused to move in with him until you surpassed your one year point. there was no real reason behind that logic, just that you'd always told yourself that you should wait at least a year until you move in together. though it practically felt like you'd already moved in together, seeing as you spent countless days and nights at each other's places, the thought of actually going for it was terrifying.

for you, it always felt like that official, caps-locks worthy title that packed a lot of meaning behind it.

as mentioned, you'd never really been fond of commitment and no matter how much you loved timothée, you knew that deep down inside you there would always be that part of yourself that would continuously bring up those damned 'what if's'. though at some point you'd escaped the bubble, even thought that you had moved past it and that you were finally able to commit yourself to him...

...it just came back — out of the blue.

he was the one that proposed the idea first, which you had taken into deep consideration and had ended up agreeing to eventually doing it whenever the two of you felt ready for that big step. a step that would make you exclusive. honestly, you weren't afraid of moving in. never moving out was what was scaring you the most.

"baby, i think we're ready," timmy said at some point while you were watching a boring documentary together. you knew exactly what he was talking about. regardless, you asked for clarification.

"i think so, too," you replied truthfully. you had given it some thought — you had to rip the damn bandage off and move in with your boyfriend — what was the worst thing that could happen?

"i want you to be a hundred percent sure about this decision, mon amour. i don't want this to feel pressured and forced, and if you want to wait more, you shouldn't be afraid to tell me to back off."

"no, timmy, i think we should do it. i love you so much and i truly want to move in with you."

"you sure sure?"

"yes," you replied with a genuine smile, snuggling closer to him and pecking his lips. "i am sure sure."

but i crumble completely when you cry

it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

teen whole months after having moved in together in a small (yet beautiful) house, it happened.

life had been amazing with timmy as your roommate. you loved waking up next to him, eating breakfast together, returning home to find him sitting on a couch with a smirk on his face, nodding towards the kitchen, where homemade food would always be on the table. it was literally refreshing. you didn't know how, why or when it'd started, but one day, you caught yourself trying to sabotage all that progress.

it was a winter afternoon; that timothée was sure of — seeing as he never really recovered from that day. he remembered it very detailed and the memory was definitely one of his last joyous ones.

he'd been working all day on set, so once he finished, he "happened" to be passing by that one jewellery store he'd lately been persistently taking glances at. he went in, looking straight for the engagement rings, his eyes scanning carefully the variety of the pieces, until they subconsciously locked into a classic, three stone engagement ring with two dazzling tapered baguettes that framed the centre cushion diamond stunningly. after having asked a man about more details (and despite the fact that it was hella expensive), he ended up buying it, a huge smile plastered on his face at the thought of proposing to you. he'd been thinking about that moment for months, but never really brought it up or dropped any hints, because he didn't want to scare you. for some reason, that day, he just felt like he had to buy it — and even if you told him that it was too soon for engagement, he would keep it and feel fine with your decision. obviously, he couldn't force you into getting engaged if you weren't ready for it.

little did he know that that smile he had would completely drop the moment he entered the house.

you were standing in the living room with your arms crossed, your foot tapping nervously on the floor as you bit your lip in attempt to hold back tears. instant anxiousness rushed through him and he hurried to get close to you, his hands grasping your arms worriedly.

"baby, what's wrong, what happened, are you alright, did anything —"

"we need to talk," you said coldly.

"did i do something wrong?"

"i just need to talk to you."

timothée hesitantly nodded as he took a seat on the couch. you opened your mouth as if to say something, but the words died down in your throat. your eyes began to water and you ran your fingers through your hair, trying to focus on the ceiling because saying it while looking at him — no, it was too fucking hard, especially with that look he had in his eyes.

oh, little did he know...

"i know you are going to hate me for this. all i can say is sorry," you began, biting on your bottom lip a little bit harder than intended. timothée got up and tried to get close to you, but you backed away, distancing yourself from him. his face fell, emotions such as overwhelming sadness, fear and worry written all over it. his lips were parted, mouthing soft and quiet 'what's wrong's', and you honestly couldn't hold it back anymore. the first tears started rolling down your cheeks, only alarming him more.

"why are you crying, chérie? you're scaring me."

"i want to break up with you."

there. you said it, you finally said it.

as soon as those seven words came out of your mouth, something inside timothée broke. he didn't know what it was, but it felt like a really painful tug in his heart that threatened to cause him a breakdown. you couldn't be serious — not when...

"what?" he asked, still in shock and disbelief.

"you heard me, timothée, please don't make me say it again."

you were dealing a devastating blow, your eyes red and puffy as you let out muffled sobs. it needed to be done for both of you, otherwise you would end up miserable.

you knew it didn't quite make sense, but the past few weeks you had finally come in terms with what was happening, how fast your relationship was moving and honestly, it was overwhelming, panicking you — he deserved to know that, the truth. it wasn't like yours stopped loving him or something, it was just the fact that you realized that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't leave behind the commitment issue, and because you loved timmy so much, you didn't want to hold him back. he deserved the whole truth — and probably someone that wouldn't be so fucking freaked out all the time.

"w—why, did i do something? did i hurt you? have i been a bad boyfriend? please, tell me what i've done wrong and i'll try everything i can to fix it — i can't lose you, i'm not going to survive this. please, tell me you're joking," he begged, his own breakdown coming shortly after yours, making things worse for you. he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut — this couldn't be happening — it couldn't —

"you didn't do anything wrong, timothée. it's just that i feel like we're both going to be unhappy in this relationship, and i don't want to hold you back. you should find someone and love them and live and die for them because that's your way. besides... timmy, i don't deserve you."

"that's crap. you and i both know it. i can't love anyone else, i only love you."

"i'm so sorry, timmy, i'm so, so sorry. one day you will see that i'm right and you'll thank me for it."

being too shocked to talk, he let out sobs and shaky breaths, his usually tired/sleepy-looking eyes already red and puffy. it broke your heart to see him like that and you wanted to hug him for one last time, kiss his pain away — but you couldn't. it'd only worsen things further.

silence fell at some point; he'd given up.

you didn't know if you were relieved or frightened by it.

"i should go," he eventually spoke, quietly and weakly. you were about to start protesting, but he cut you off by shaking his hand in the air dismissively. "you can stay here, take the house. i'll come by tomorrow to pack my stuff. you can text me when you'll be out so that you won't have to see me."

i'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise

take my hands off of your eyes too soon

the following week has been truly devastating and shattering for you to handle. you absolutely despised coming back home from work and realize that it was getting emptier and emptier as the days passed — he really was moving out. that was why you hated breakups so much; one of the biggest misconceptions around then was that the person who instigated the split never suffered as much as the person they broke it off with. wrong, wrong, wrong. just because you were the one who decided it was time to end things didn't mean you didn't struggle in the aftermath. in fact, you'd very much done so. for the entire week, you barely got yourself to eat anything, always lying on your bed with dark bags under your swollen eyes, which had been so fucking tired of crying.

one day, you opened the drawer of his nightstand, hoping he'd left something — anything — in there, just so you could keep it, have something that would remind you of him and all the good times in your relationship, which admittedly was an unhealthy thing to do, but couldn't help yourself anyway.

as you hesitantly opened it, you found a small velvety box in it. no, you thought, no this can't —

you took it in your hands and mentally prayed to god for it not to be an engagement ring, but once you fully opened it, you came into sight with the brightest and most beautiful ring you'd ever seen. your heart must've literally split in two that moment. you felt nauseous and in the mood to hit your head in a wall for being so stupid. the poor man was going to propose to you and you broke up with him instead. how could you have been so oblivious, how could you not have noticed...

your entire body went rigid for a moment, then crumbled completely, hot, steaming tears running down your cheeks as you placed the box back in the drawer.

the following day, when you opened sais drawer, you noticed that it was gone.

i'm going back to 505

if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive

"babe, aren't you going to say anything? you've been staring at my roommate for an awfully long time and it's honestly sort of creepy," your roommate whispered in timothée's ear, who was just as frozen as you. she then looked at you and shrugged with a chuckle. "i don't know what's gotten into him. he's usually normal."

your jaw was slightly dropped and your heart was definitely ten times faster than usual.

"i..." timothée spoke after a moment, his throat dry, cheeks covered by an evident red blush.

"please, say something you guys. i'm terrified."

"uh, hey, nice to meet you."

you were brave enough to talk first, take a few steps closer and reach for his — seemingly — motionless hand. you shook it for a few seconds, electricity running through your fingers. it seemed like the last time you touched him was million of ages ago, when in reality, it'd only been less than a freaking year. you missed the softness and warmth of his skin, the way his fingers seemed like they were designed just to entangle with yours — it was all so overwhelming and you didn't want to let go of his hand.

"likewise. i'm... timothée," he said lowly, his mouth still agape.

"do you guys know each other? like have you ever met or something?"

"no!"

you both said simultaneously, shaking your heads a tad more aggressively than needed. your roommate muttered a silent 'okay' that indicated she wasn't entirely convinced but didn't want to question anything further. it seemed impossible for your eyes to leave his — every memory of the two of you so fresh yet so old. you could still remember the way he used to kiss you, the way he used to hug you so tightly you thought you might burst. you wanted to cry.

"you sure you haven't met before? like, i know timmy's famous and stuff, but i'm getting vibes that you know each other on a personal level."

"i can assure you that we've never met before, roommie," you replied reassuringly. all the memories you'd built with timothée started playing in your mind like black and white flashbacks. oh, how little did she know... you looked back at him only to realize that he hadn't stopped staring at you for a single second. so many unspoken words and 'i never stopped loving you's' echoing in each other's heads as your completely oblivious roommate reached up to kiss her boyfriend's — your boyfriend's — cheek. so many undone actions...

in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side

with your hands between your thighs

...and a smile

FIN.

#timmy chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chamalet #lil timmy tim #he is the loml #he is baby #must protecc at all costs #fanfiction #angst prompt #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x you #505 arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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kaepop-trash · 3 years

Note

Hey can you do a drabble with johnny where y/n and him share there kinks in a pillowtalk and even though they are timid (?) at first they encourage each other to speak.

And can you make it fluffy? Or like i dont mind how you make it i trust your writing style anyway😂😊😊😘😘

This started a whole discourse between me and two other people on what we think Johnny’s kinks are so genuine gratitude to you for that. After careful consideration, I came on these. This was very fun to write. I really wish people were this comfortable communicating in real life. I wish I was this comfortable communicating in real life.

I want you to picture this happening after the costco scene in Unintended Consequences, that is important to keep in mind. Thank you for saying you have trust in my writing because it makes one of us. I hope you like this!

Johnny looked up when the door of his bedroom opened, smiling when she walked in. She returned his welcoming smile with a tired one.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake.” She dropped her purse beside the door, “I’m sorry, the meeting lasted longer than I anticipated. We were supposed to go for dinner.” She sighed.

Johnny shook his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He took his laptop off his lap and placed it on the bed. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” He slipped out of bed, smiling at the way she fluttered her eyes away to the floor at his words.

Johnny definitely enjoyed how she looked when she was flustered a little too much.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She groaned, "No I was chewing on these crackers from a basket somebody gave me at the office. They were actually really good." She recalled.

"I'm famished." Johnny smiled as he came up to her.

She gave a look that was somewhere between surprise and apology. "You haven't eaten yet? It's midnight!" She sighed. Johnny shook his head. A small smile tugging at his lips from her reprimand, "I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll eat okay?”

“Why are people sending you baskets?” Johnny questions as they ate the food Johnny ordered hours ago. She turned to look at him, holding back a smile. With a suspicious gaze, Johnny picked up his phone.

“It’s your birthday next week.” Johnny snorted once he checked the date.

She laughed, “Remember last year?” The look on his face made her laugh some more.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Johnny sounded offended, “I was still on thin ice with Sooyoung then. Imagine how it felt when she told me it was your birthday and I had no clue.” He sulked making her bite back her laugh.

“She only told you because she knew I wouldn’t.” (Y/N) shrugged, shoving more food into her mouth.

“Why?”

“Just.” She shrugged again. “All my friends live in different cities, you and I were barely on our second month; so I didn’t really do much about it. It’s just another day to me anyway.”

Johnny hummed with sarcasm, “That’s why you were sitting on your couch eating ice cream and watching HBO?” He clicked his tongue, disappointment clear on his face.

Her brows creased, “Hey! Nothing wrong with eating your favourite flavour of ice cream and watching your favourite show for the ninth time.”

“Yes.” Johnny sat back in his chair, patience written all over his face. “But we could have done that together.”

She chewed on her lips at that, before clicking her tongue. “You came over anyway!” She laughed, “With cake and that lemon chicken I really like. You’re the best boyfriend.” She puckered her lips at him and made kissy noises from across the table making him scoff. “It was the middle of the week! I didn’t want to be a bother, so I didn’t tell you. It’s whatever.” She dismissed the idea. “Don’t be mad.” She gave him a cheeky grin. "I'm yours for the day this time." She promised.

Johnny huffed, “Just watch.” He pointed his fork at her, “This time I’m going to go all out.” She groaned at the promise, making a smirk lift his lips. “So many gifts, (Y/N). Just watch.” He threatened. “So many.”

“Johnny.” She whined.

“No, see.” He sat up in his chair, his eyes glinting. “I know you better now. I know exactly what to give you.” He sounded very sure. "So you don't have to be self-righteous."

“And what’s that?”

“Things you want but put off buying. Like that kitchen knife you were eyeing at the mall. Or those scented candles.” He recalled with such impeccable memory that she would refuse if she wasn’t so touched.

Johnny drew his lower lip in with his teeth, thinking over something and then letting it go, “I’m also getting you some things I want.”

“Like what?” She raised a brow.

He gave her a secretive smile, “You’ll see.”

She grimaced, “Why so many?”

“Because I want to.” Johnny got out of his chair, picking up their empty plates. She got up and followed him towards the kitchen, “You never let me buy you anything! Your birthday is an opportunity.” He put the plates in the sink, giving her a chaste kiss on her temples. "And don't say you can get it yourself or I'll add another gift to my list." He said like he read her mind.

She bit her lips, “I let you buy me food.” She protested softly.

The incredulous look Johnny gave her made her giggle. “Basic nourishment, (Y/N). What a standard you set.” He huffed.

“You’re into that aren’t you?” She said softly.

Johnny stopped just as he scrubbed the first plate, turning to her. “Nourishment?” He scoffed, amusement painting on his face. “As a general rule of life, yes.”

She rolled her eyes, “It pleases you, giving people things?” She clarified.

“I guess.” He said slowly, looking back at the plate.

“You even got Mark an xbox for something you refuse to tell me about.” She scoffed.

Johnny smiled to himself, “That’s between him and me.” He wiped his hands after finishing his chore.

She hummed, “So I was right.” She said to herself mostly. When Johnny looked up at her in question, she bit down on her lip. “Last week. At costco?” Her heartbeat sped up a little as she recalled the afternoon.

“Oh.” Johnny blushed and looked away, a sight that was delightful to experience. “Yeah. I mean,” He paused, letting out a short laugh. “I thought I made that obvious.” She could tell he was trying to be nonchalant, but his cheeks were already turning pink.

“What else?” She questioned.

“What else what?” He turned around to face her, pulling her into his chest with a quick tug at her waist.

“What else are you into?”

Johnny gave her a devious grin, “So we’re doing this now?”

She looked down to his chest, “I mean. A year is long enough for us to discuss what we’re into. Sexually speaking.” Her warming cheeks made her look lower, to her own fingers.

Johnny hummed, tightening his grip. “Since we’re discussing this. Let’s start with you.”

That made her look up at him, “I asked you first!” She protested. “You should start.” She narrowed her eyes.

He nodded, “Come to bed at least, we’re both very tired.”

They both lay on their sides, watching each other. The soft light of the lamp above their head illuminated his face, his eyes covered by the shadow his hair left.

Johnny’s eyes shifted to the mirror on the wall opposite his bed, “I like watching you in the mirror sometimes. Watching us, I mean.” When his eyes came back to her, she could tell he was being careful. It made her heart flutter.

“I’ve noticed.” She smiled.

Johnny laughed, flipping over to look at the ceiling, “You’re making me nervous.” He groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m very vocal in bed. So I enjoy that in a partner too.” He nodded to himself.

“Like telling you how good it feels?” He questioned.

Johnny flopped his head to the side to face her again, his hair landing on his eyes, “Exactly.” The look he gave her seared her skin, “Also what you want me to do. I’m into verbal affirmation.”

She hummed, “Got anything I wasn’t already aware of?” She raised a brow.

Johnny grinned sheepishly, “Your turn. I’m trying to ease into it.” He winked, “What does my baby like, hmm?” He reached out to lace his fingers through hers, rubbing his fingers on his palm.

She chewed on her bottom lip, “There’s something about the way you run your fingers through my hair.” She fluttered her eyes away from his, focusing instead on his fingers. “Actually, fingers in general. Very nice, very attractive.” She lifted his hand, inspecting it.

“I’m flattered.” Johnny chuckled, “What else?” His voice came out rougher.

Her heart hammered in her throat, “Sometimes, when you’re cross at me.” She turned to look at him, an embarrassed laugh emitting from her lips. “You sound too good scolding me, Johnny. I didn’t know I could be into that.” She huffed, sounding a little annoyed at the notion.

“Now this. This I knew.” A smile tugged at his lips.

"I like taking control sometimes." Her cheeks felt too hot, "Especially if I can be on top." She kept her eyes on his palm.

"Oh." Johnny's voice dropped a little more. "Wow." He huffed, "Okay."

She looked up at him with an amused look in her eyes, the eager nod he gave her giving her the confidence to continue.

"I also," She paused and took a breath. Her exhale came out as a flustered laugh, making her smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Johnny grinned.

“I’m not!” She interjected, "Just give me a moment." She groaned, closing her eyes and ignoring her now burning cheeks. "I want to sit on your face." She scrunched her face, lifting a hand to hide it.

Johnny laughed loudly, the sound making her let his hand go to shove his chest.

"Don't laugh at me, Johnny!" She whined, "I'm going to go home. This is the worst idea I've ever had." She risked taking the hand off her eyes to find him grinning at her affectionately.

"You're so cute, (Y/N). That's not bad at all. It's so hot, I'd do anything you want me to know, baby." He brushed his knuckles on her pink cheeks. "You can tell me anything." He mumbled.

"I know!" She defended, "I know." She groaned. "This is just–" She paused, sighing. “This is just new to me.”

“Kinks?” Johnny gave her a skeptical look. She kicked his shin, making Johnny laugh.

“Communicating about them. I just thought,” She took a nervous breath. “I want you to be comfortable with your desires, you know?” She came a little closer to him. "I wanted to know what you like.

Johnny looked over her face, “I am very comfortable with how much I desire you. Too comfortable, in fact.” He raised a meaningful brow, biting back his smile.

“No.” She took another breath, thinking her words over once more. “I have a suspicion.” She breached slowly.

“No (Y/N),” The serious look on his face made her pause. “Mark and I are just friends.”

She snorted, making Johnny grin. “That’s very reassuring. But,” She reached out to put a hand on his chest. He hummed when she did, the sound reverberating in his chest against her palm. She kept her eyes focused on the way her hand rose and fell against his chest, “Sometimes I feel that you’re too careful with me. I don’t know whether it’s because of the fact that I haven’t had too many partners or because you’re afraid I’ll freak out or something.” She looked up with wide eyes when his breathing seemed to rise, her hand moving more rapidly. “I could be wrong. It’s just something I was wondering.” She looked away again, losing her nerves.

This time Johnny put his fingers under her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes, “Hey. You can tell me about anything you wonder in passing, hmm?” His eyes glowed in the dim light, she nodded. “I am gentle with you. I guess, some of it is because I am nervous of how you’ll react. But mostly because I love you. I want to treat you so well, like I believe you deserve.”

“What are you nervous about?” Curiosity took over her hesitation as she finally felt her questions being answered, “I can assure you, that you can’t break me in half.” She added with a snort, a smile playing on her lips.

Johnny mirrored it, “I know.”

“Then?”

“I mean,” Johnny paused, “I guess.” He sighed. He rubbed his face with his hand.

It was strange to see Johnny flustered about something. It was rare, and it never failed to catch her off-guard. Between the both of them, Johnny was comfortable being the one always sure about things; he was the one who not only knew what he wanted, but was enviably vocal about it. She did her part and waited patiently for him to find his words.

Johnny laughed, “You always do this to me.” He groaned, turning back to face her with renewed certainty in his eyes, “There is a laundry list of things I am so tempted to do to you. But I would never want to make you uncomfortable. I guess,” He paused again.

When she laughed at the repeated phrase, he joined with a pained one. “You’re laughing at me.” He groaned, the irony not lost on him.

“Only because I think you’re so cute.” She tugged at his t-shirt, leaving a kiss on his nose. He scrunched it, as if to protest, but it only cemented her statement.

He trapped her in his arms, pecking her lips a few times with a smile. “Exactly. I think I like being cute around you. I want to be your cute, domestic boyfriend Johnny. I didn't think I'd like that role as much I do and I was worried–”

“That I would stop thinking you’re cute if you spank me?” She scoffed.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, taking a strained inhale.

She reached up to leave a soft kiss on his eye, “We can always try it.” She said softly. His exhale was equally strained. “And other things." She hummed, "Doesn't mean we lose the comfort we have. If anything, I want you to be more comfortable. Which is why I wanted to know. You’re always holding back. I see it in the way you look at me sometimes.” She kissed the other lid, “I just want to know what it is. Be honest with me.” She kissed his forehead, “Trust me, so I can show that I trust you.” Johnny sighed at those words. “I don’t want your restraint.” She murmured against his cheek.

“You really cannot say that when you take it as a personal challenge to pull away all of my restraint. You’ve been doing it since we met.” He opened his eyes, chiding her.

The smile she gave him at that, shy but unapologetic, made him think that today would really be the day he would tell her of the things he only thought of mid-week when he missed her touch a little too much.

“See.” She smiled against his cheek, “That’s my kink.” She reached a hand out to rest on his neck, nails dragging up into his hair. Johnny shivered at the action. "I just love it. Pulling your restraint away from you slowly, watching you try so hard to keep your self-control together. It's so hot watching it fall apart." Both their breathing matched, heavy and eager. "You're so hot."

"Wretched little thing." He mumbled into her neck, making her skin erupt into goosebumps.

She smiled against his chin, "There's also that isn’t there? The difference in our general stature." A short breathless laugh left her when Johnny groaned, the sound shooting down into the depths of her belly. “What is it about it? I was always curious.” She pulled back from. Somehow looking into his dark eyes and finger-dragged hair was worse than being close to him.

“I just lose my mind over it.” He breathed out the confession, “You're so small, so precious." He laughed at his own words. "That sounds ridiculous out loud but," He chewed his bottom lip sore, her eyes settling on the now swollen flesh, "How your hands fit into mine. How you fit into me.” He paused, dragging his teeth over his lower lip again. “When I’m inside you.” He closed his eyes again, his breathing rapid.

She felt herself rub her thighs together. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She wanted to know these things about him, because was started to fall in love with him. She wanted to see every part of him and reassure him about it. Soothing the small doubts she knew her wildly confident Johnny still held. Instead, the room felt charged with the growing tension.

“Yeah?” She encouraged him.

“You take me so well. You swallow me with your pretty little cunt.” He groaned.

It was her turn to close her eyes, her breathing joining his in pace. This wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“There’s also something,” He continued. “That I think you’d like.” He granted her the mercy of closing the space between them again. She opened her eyes, waiting for him to finish. “Sometimes I think of how it would feel to have my fingers wrapped around your pretty neck.” He hummed, raising his hand to brush his thumb against her throat.

“Fuck.” She grumbled, “Johnny how could you possibly think I’d mind any of these things?” She sounded the cocktail of exasperation and arousal she felt. “Do all of those to me. God you’re absolutely insane for thinking I’d be adverse to any of these.” She whined, squirming as her body searched for friction. “I thought you’d say you want to hang me from the ceiling or something.”

Johnny's laugh sounded more like a pant. "No, nothing that intense." He brushed his thumb over her clavicles. "I think the furthest I'll go is a foot fetish." He sighed.

Her eyes blinked open, "You have a foot fetish?" She asked, surprised. Johnny gave her a nod. "Now see that one I'm going to judge you for." She put a finger on his chest, finding her volume again.

Johnny bit back a smile, "Why does that get such an extreme reaction?" A short laugh bubbled up his throat.

"Are you going to make me send you pictures of my feet?" She furrowed her brows, but her eyes betrayed the humour.

"Not if you don't want to, no."

"But you'll look at them? Like in a sexual way?" She questioned.

Johnny smirked, "How do you know I don't already? You have nice feet. Especially when you paint your nails or wear heels." He took the finger she put on her chest and bought it to his lips.

"That's a little weird I'm not going to lie to you baby." She scrunched her nose.

Johnny scoffed, "So you can like my hands but I can't like your feet?" He raised his brows at her.

She chewed on her lips, caught in the trap of his words. "That's a fair point. I guess you can keep that, then." She gasped when he took her index finger between his teeth, biting down just hard enough for the blood pool into her stomach.

"Don't knock it till you try it, (Y/N)." He warned, his tongue grazing against the flesh now imprinted with the mark of his teeth.

"What exactly am I trying?" She raised a brow.

"One of these days, I just might show you. For now, we both need to sleep." He dropped her hand.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. "We aren't having sex?"

Delight gleamed in his eyes at the indignation in her voice. "Tomorrow." The single word was a bond.

She groaned, too tired herself to put up a fight. "Absolute tease." She rolled her eyes, "That should have made it onto your list. Probably worse than the feet thing, as well." She huffed.

Johnny laughed again, pulling her closer to him till his chin rested on her crown. "I love you so very much." He sighed, the words making her chest bubble like a freshly popped can of soda.

She nuzzled into him, the action significant enough to make him smile. "I hope me thinking your feet are sexy isn't the deal breaker because I don't want to lose you." He mixed the heartfelt words with a lighthearted jab, something very quintessentially 'Johnny' to do.

"You wish you could get rid of me that easy, big boy." She shoved him lightly, "You're my daddy now." She tried to joke but Johnny groaned.

"Stop saying that." He warned, "I was hoping we'd go for brunch tomorrow. So we need to sleep."

"Such a father thing to say Mr. John Suh." She teased further.

Johnny chuckled into her hair. "Okay, enough. I didn't tell you all of those things just to be teased." He whined.

She shuffled to look up at him, "That's exactly what you signed up for with me." She pecked his lips once, "Good night." She smiled against them.

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Unintended Consequences

#johnny scenarios #johnny drabble #nct johnny #nct #miscellaneous #unintended consequences #johnny #nct 127 #nct scnearios #nct drabble #johnny seo #johnny smut #nct smut

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1kook · 4 years

Text

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #mine

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char-lotta · 3 years

Text

Forget me not (Part 1/3)

Pairing: Jake x MC

Words: 1,6k

Summary: Forgetting is hard but forgiving is harder.

Warnings: -

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Forget me not - part one

You looked on the screen without thought in your head. The download bar was moving so slowly, that you couldn’t even pin it to actually move. The quiet humming coming from the countless computers filled the dark room with only you in there. Although, you were used to be alone, since that was the way of living you had performed for years already. You were alone and empty. You wouldn’t describe yourself alive, just plainly existing.

Something interrupted your catatonic state of just being alive and it took you a while to realize what it was. You looked your phone which had dim light with simple text on the screen.

MC: Please, could we just talk? I miss you.

Those blue eyes of yours read the message again and again and something warm sparked inside of you. You quickly diminished it when you found yourself thinking of her, the subject what you had forbidden yourself for weeks now. You swiped the message away from your screen and turned the phone screen down on the table. She would eventually stop.

-_-_-_-_-

Few days later, you received another message. You unlocked your screen and looked those words written by someone, who you didn’t deserve, but still wanted to be with you. God knows why.

MC: Jake, I really need to talk to you.

Something ached in your heart when you closed the message again and you sighed heavily. Why couldn’t she just let go? You had explained to her that this was for her own protection, and the image of her hurt face was burned in your mind. You could almost hear the sobs if you closed your eyes now. She didn’t know that you saw her though, because you were too coward to tell her that straight and instead took care of that by sending a text to her, but you had watched her from afar. How lame of you, but what else could you expect from twisted image of a man as you were.

You couldn’t resist yourself and you opened a CCTV in one of your screens. It showed her at work, in her tiny cubicle, as you knew her working schedule. You promised yourself that just this one time, you would allow yourself to look at her: her long brown curls, the worried face of hers and your favorite part; her neck. Oh, how you missed to be close to her, bury your face in her neck and smell that enchanting scent of lilies in her skin and shampoo on her hair. You couldn’t see it on the blurry CCTV, but she had a small mole just below her ear, where you had drawn circles in your finger when she slept. She was beautiful, as always; those soft lips of hers and you could remember them to whisper you all kinds of sweet words at the morning dusk, when she thought you were asleep. I love you; she had said and all you wanted to do, was embrace her and never let go of her.

But you did.

She was biting her lip again, what she always did when she was nervous. And it was because of you, and you knew it. She looked so fucking sad when she held her phone in her lap, looking at the screen, hoping that you would answer to her. But you couldn’t, and it was completely your own fault. You closed the CCTV and let your mind drift again to that emptiness, what had been your loyal companion always.

-_-_-_-_-_-

You received the next message in the same night, but you weren’t asleep since you never slept. You had only these nightmares what would follow you from dream to dream and sometimes you saw them during the days too.

MC: Don’t you think that I can decide myself what is good for me?

MC: You promised me that you would always be there for me, but there you are; not answering any of my text or calls.

You clenched your fists and saw that she was writing again. No, she was not capable of deciding where she should put herself in danger or not. She let her emotions cloud her judgment, and you had warned her since the beginning of the mission to find Hannah, that there should not be emotions involved because they would just make things harder. She couldn’t see it, but you could. Your pursuers had been on your tails and they were getting closer and closer.

When they had sent you that image, something broke inside of you and you just knew, that this happiness of yours was short-term. You had promised to her that you would always be there, but she forgot the most important promise that you had made to her; you would always protect her. And that was the promise which you were keeping, and you could never forgive yourself if something happened to her. She was dragged in to this involuntary, she hadn’t asked for it. Why should you put your feelings towards her to be more important that her life was?

The message coming from that image that your pursuers had sent you couldn’t be any clearer; it showed her coming out of her apartment door. They knew who she was and where she lived and what she meant to you. In that moment you had realized that she already was in mortal danger and you had put her in this position just simply loving her. It had to be stopped and no one else couldn’t do that for you, so it had to be you. You were going to break her.

MC: I fucking hate you

MC: I loathe you

MC: How can you do this to me?

The texts were coming quickly now, and you could see that she was frustrated and angry. Her words I fucking hate you and I loathe you felt like daggers in your abdomen, but at the same time, you were satisfied. The anger of hers would help her cope losing you and moving on. She deserved someone who could be there for her without putting her at risk, although even the thought of her being with someone else killed you slowly. But this had to be done.

MC: I loved you and I would have given my life for you

MC: And you threw me away like I am garbage

MC: I don’t want to hear from you ever again

Good, you thought, you never will. And with that thought you muted your phone and returned to your computer.

-_-_-_-_--

It had been two months now from the last message of hers and four since you had last met. You could see the sun getting up between the curtains and you switched your screen to her workplace’s system, just for the check up on her, as you did every morning. You searched her name in the list of employees logged on, but you couldn’t find her. You frowned and checked again, but she wasn’t there. With a few buttons you had opened the CCTV and looked at her cubicle, but it was empty.

Where was she?

The cubicle looked plain, and you realized that her plants and pictures were missing too. Personally, you didn’t understand of the concept of having all kind of distracting things on your desk, but considering that she always bought a new plant for substitute of what she had involuntary killed, she seemed to love them. Confused, you rewind the security tape to last day and stopped when she was shown on the tape and looked closely. She had a box with her, and she was picking up all her personal things from her desk and when she was done, she left. You followed her via the cameras of the elevator.

Maybe she got promotion and had gotten herself a new room?

But no, she went with her stuff to the elevator and took the trip down and left the building.

“What the fuck” you muttered and switched to her apartment’s hallway camera. You zoomed in her apartments door and saw that there was apparently a small family moving in. There was no sight of her in the video and her apartment seemed empty. You felt your heartbeat rising and your palms turned sweaty. You tried to log on her phone and use the GPS to track her, but she had turned her phone off.

“FUCK!” you yelled and threw the coffee mug you had, into the wall. Where had she gone?

You logged on her social medias, but she had updated those months ago, so they weren’t helpful. You had promised to her that you wouldn’t read her messages, but she didn’t leave you a choice, you had to know where she was. You saw that she had discussed with her friends, but the topics were daily stuff and chit chat.

You opened up her emails, but they weren’t important, containing only work-related mails and some recommendations from HBO, which suggested that she needed to re-watch Game of Thrones sixtieth time this year. She knew that you would investigate those while looking for you and she was doing her best on covering her tracks.

Few flying coffee cups later and you were shouting from frustration. You breathed heavily and stared the monitors. You had taught her well, but that was the point, you had taught her. You had told her that when she was booking any tickets or making any travel plans, she wasn’t supposed to use her own email as a verification, but spam email you had created to her, which servers were located some tiny island on the Caribbean Sea. You typed the address on your browser, and there it was, ticket confirmation mail.

Thank you for booking your trip to Duskwood from us!

Here are some tips for your journey –

You tried to read the message, but your brains didn’t oblige with you and you just kept looking those letters what didn’t make any sense. No fucking way…

Why was she going to Duskwood?

#duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood #everbyte duskwood #jake x mc #jake x player #jake x reader #duskwood fanfiction

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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

Text

reminence | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader stays the night in a hotel but there are no rooms. her ex, Charlie, overheard her talking and offers reader to spend the night in his room

length: mediumish

rating: PG

warnings: none

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

You get out of the Uber you took to get here from LAX. You thank the driver and get your suitcase out of the trunk of his car. You drag your suitcase and dufflebag into the hotel that you plan in staying at tonight. It’s about five and the lobby is kind of packed. The parking lot was pretty full. You get in line at the desk behind a couple and their child.

The desk receptionist hands the couple a key and they walk off. You approach the desk with a smile and say, “Hi, my name is Y/N L/N and I booked a room here for one night.” The desk receptionist nods and types on the computer.

She makes a face and says, “I’m sorry, Miss L/N but that was our last room available.”

Confused, you say, “I called three days ago and made a reservation for a room.”

“I am all out of rooms tonight, I apologize,” she says. “If you’d like to stay and wait in case someone checks out then you can. I thought we had more than one room available for tonight.”

With a sigh, you open your mouth to say something until you hear someone go “Y/N?” behind you. You turn your head to see Charlie Gillespie standing behind you. You blink at him. You haven’t seen him since he broke up with you almost two years ago after a three year relationship. His hair has gotten longer and he’s gotten ... cuter.

You say, “Charlie, wow. It’s been a long time.”

Charlie approaches you and asks, “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was going to but they just gave away the last room when I called three days ago reserving a room,” you say. “Why are you staying here?”

He says, “I flew in from Canada yesterday and have been staying here until my friend gets back from Canada so I can stay at his place. Wait, did you say that they don’t have anymore rooms?” You nod. “You can stay with me tonight. I have a second bed in my room that you can use.”

With a smile forming on your lips, you say, “Thank you, Charlie.” The desk receptionist hands you a key to Charlie’s room and the two of you take the elevator up to the fourth floor.

When you’re on the elevator, you take a second to look at the man next to you. His hair was much shorter than it is now. He’s wearing a blue and white button-up shirt that’s a little big on him and the top three or four buttons are undone, revealing his chest. He wears khaki shorts and converse sneakers.

The elevator dings and you get off with Charlie, who leads you down the hallway to his hotel room. He uses his key to let you both in and he lets you walk in first. You look around the room. The bed he probably slept in last night is a mess and isn’t made. There’s a shirt thrown over a chair at the little circular table. A coffee mug sits on the table between the beds.

“It’s a little messy but I wasn’t expecting company,” Charlie says, closing the door behind you. “Sorry.”

You smile and say, “It’s okay. It’s not like you need to impress me or anything.”

Charlie chuckles a bit and says, “I can run and grab us some food while you unpack. I know you probably had a long flight and probably need real food.”

“Yes, please,” you say. “Are there any McDonald’s around here? Or Taco Bell?”

He grabs his wallet and asks, “Your usual from either?” You nod in response. “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes then.” Charlie leaves the room and you sit on the neatly made bed.

Sometimes you don’t remember why your relationship with Charlie ended. He’s a sweetheart, even after not seeing you for two years.

Your mind wanders while you unpack some of your clothes, putting them in an unused drawer. You check the minifridge to see what Charlie has. He just has a few cans of soda and a few water bottles. You sigh and sit back down on your bed.

Charlie walks in moments later with a Taco Bell bag and two drinks. He sets everything down on the little table and says, “Three soft shell tacos, Nacho Fries, and a Baja Blast. After all this time, I still know your regular at Taco Bell.”

With a laugh, you get up and say, “It’s not that hard to remember three soft shell tacos, Nacho Fries, and a Baja Blast. But thank you, Charlie.”

He smiles as you take your food, your drink, and a few napkins before sitting with your legs cross on your bed.

“What do the channels look like here? Any good ones?” you ask, opening one of your tacos.

Charlie shrugs and says, “There’s HBO we can watch. I know know what movie is on right now. Let’s check though.” He plops down on his bed with his Crunchwrap Supreme and his own Baja Blast. He grabs the remote and scrolls to HBO. He puts the channel on and you recognize the movie as Five Feet Apart. You look at Charlie and he switches to a static filled channel. “Not that one.”

Five Feet Apart was the movie you and Charlie watched the day before your relationship with him ended. You saw it in the movie theater a few weeks after it came out. You haven’t been able to watch it since.

Quickly, Charlie scrolls through the guide and puts on Friends. “This is a good compromise,” you tell him. “We both love Friends.”

“It’s one of the greatest shows ever,” Charlie says enthusiastically.

You laugh and say, “You made me watch this show so many times when we were together. The theme song always got stuck in my head after we watched it.”

Charlie swallows the bite of his Crunchwrap that he took before he asks, “Do you know how much Grey’s Anatomy you made me watch?” You laugh. “We’re even, Y/N.”

After swallowing a bite of your taco, you say, “You made me watch un ungodly amount of Friends, Charlie. It was everyday. I only made you watch Grey’s on Thursdays when it aired.”

He chuckles and says, “Okay, you got me there. You made me watch a lot of TikToks though, Miss L/N. You spent hours showing me videos.”

“You were laughing so I didn’t stop!” you say, jumping to your defense. “Remember that one time we tried making a TikTok by dancing to Obsessed by Mariah Carrey. It took us hours because you couldn’t learn the moves.”

Your ex laughs and says, “I did learn the moves eventually though. I still remember them.”

You finish your taco and says, “I wanna see this. Show me.”

Charlie smiles and gets off the bed. He stands in front of you and starts to do the Obsessed dance from TikTok. You laugh as you watch how badly he does the dance.

“For a musician, you have no rhythm,” you tease.

He sits back down on his bed with a sigh as he says, “For a small person, you eat a lot. I don’t know where it goes.”

With a laugh, you say, “I have no idea where it all goes either.”

It feels nice to laugh and talk with Charlie. Neither of you have spoken to each other since you broke up in late 2019. Just seeing him again has made you really happy. You didn’t think you’d see him again. He’s still his crazy self that he was years ago.

Both of you finish and you sit back against the headboard of your bed with a pillow behind you. You’re watching and laughing with Friends even though you’ve seen this episode a thousand times.

Charlie sudden asks, “Do you remember why we broke up?”

You look over at Charlie, who’s laying in the same position that you are, and say, “We just grew apart after high school. You moved down here part time after you graduated and I still had a few months left.” Charlie graduated early, you still had six months left. You were 17 when you and Charlie started dating at the beginning of your senior year of high school. He had just turned 17 right before the school year started. You were 20 when the relationship ended and Charlie was just about to turn 21. It wasn’t quite three years when you broke up but it was close.

He says, “I tried to make it work with us, Y/N. You know that right? Between living down here and acting, I did try.”

“I know you did,” you tell him, sitting up and looking at him. “It just got tough for both of us. We ended things on good terms.”

Charlie nods and says, “We did.”

You blink and ask, “What have you been doing since we broke up? Focusing on music, I hope.”

With a little laugh, he says, “I was on Netflix.”

Almost surprised, you say, “I didn’t know you were on Netflix, Charlie! That’s incredible. Was it a show or movie?”

“A show,” he says. “It’s called Julie and the Phantoms. We’re still waiting to be picked up for a second season but we trending in the top ten for a little bit on there after the show dropped in September last year.” Charlie tells you all about his time on set. He tells you about the show too, and you’re happy to hear that he was able to do two of the things he loves to do while being on the show.

You smile and ask, “Can I hear a song from the show? I know you have a guitar somewhere in this room. You never go anywhere without one.”

Charlie laughs and says, “You’re right.” He gets up and opens the closet door, pulling out a guitar he has stashed away in there. You laugh and shake your head. You know him too well sometimes.

He sits at the end of your bed and you cross your legs, looking at him. He pulls the guitar out of it’s case and he grabs a pick. He tunes the guitar before he looks at you.

“The song I’m about to play is song I wrote with my co-star, Madi,” he says. “It’s called Perfect Harmony. I may or may not have been kind of thinking of you when coming up with the lyrics.”

You smile and say, “Awe, I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Charlie.”

A laugh leaves Charlie’s lips as he begins to play the chords.

Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before

As he plays, you sway to the music. You smile, having always enjoyed hearing his voice and watching him play guitar. He’d spend hours practicing or writing songs and you’d sit outside whatever room he was in or sit beside him while he sang and played.

Charlie looks at you occasionally as he plays, almost like he’s singing to you.

You set me free You and me together is more than chemistry Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands

You watch him intently, the smile never leaving your face as he plays. Hearing his voice again makes you so happy.

I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah-yeah You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah I never knew a love so real (So real) We're heaven on earth, melody and words

As he finishes up the song, you stop swaying and you look at him. Charlie finishes and he looks at you. He laughs a bit and says, “And that’s Perfect Harmony.”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him. “And I’m not just saying that because you kind of wrote the song while thinking about me. I think it’s really good, Charlie. You’re so talented.”

Charlie’s face gets a little flustered and he says, “I’m just decent at guitar and decent at singing.”

You say, “You wouldn’t have landed a huge Netflix role if you weren’t crazy talented, Charlie. You know that right?”

He packs up his guitar and says, “You don’t have to lie to me like we’re still dating, Y/N.” Charlie gets up and puts his guitar back in the closet he took it about from. You get up and walk over to him.

When he turns around, he jumps a bit, startled that you were right there. You stare up at him and say, “I’m telling you right now that you are insanely talented. I’m face to face with you now so you can’t tell me that I’m lying.”

After a moment of staring up into Charlie’s eyes, he takes a step toward you. Your heart begins to race in your chest and you take a deep breath. You feel his fingers touch your hand and butterflies erupt in your belly. His callused fingers intertwine with yours and you gasp.

“Can I kiss you?” Charlie suddenly asks.

You nod slowly, tilting your head up. It’s been so long since Charlie’s kissed you, and you always loved his kisses. Whenever you were upset, he’d kiss your forehead or your cheek or your neck and you’d feel better almost immediately.

Charlie’s free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek. He leans down and ghosts his lips over yours hesitantly. You lean your head up as Charlie becomes more sure and crashes his lips to yours. You gasp softly before kissing him back. The kiss is slow and soft as you both take in the moment.

In the two years apart, you’ve never lost feelings for Charlie. You tried to date but it never worked out because you never were able to get over the only man you ever really loved. Being able to hold his hand and kiss him again feels heavenly.

Both of you stand like this for a few moments before you pull back, looking up at Charlie. He looks down at you and asks, “How long will you be in Los Angeles?”

You say, “I’m moving into my new apartment tomorrow. I just flew in a day early.”

He smiles and asks, “So you’re here permanently?”

“I’m here permanently,” you say, smiling. “So if you’re willing to try the relationship thing again then-”

Charlie cuts you off with another kiss, this one rougher than the last. You laugh as Charlie pulls back, saying, “Are you kidding? I’d love to try the relationship thing again. The only reason I’m staying with my friend is because I’m looking for a new apartment too.”

With a huge smile on both your faces, you wrap your arms around Charlie’s neck. You hug him tight and say, “Looks like we ended up finding our way back to each other.”

“Thank God,” Charlie says against your ear. You laugh.

You spend the night wrapped around Charlie in some way until you begin to fall asleep.

As you doze off to sleep, you hear Charlie begin to sing softly.

The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony

A smile forms on your face as you snuggle against Charlie’s side, falling asleep in his arms.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #fluff imagines #imagines #imagine #fluff #fluffy

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freddyfreebat · 4 years

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Jack Dylan Grazer Discovers Who He Is in Luca Guadagnino's “We Are Who We Are”

After supporting roles in the It and Shazam!, the young actor shifts gears with his turn as a capricious army brat in the Call Me By Your Name director's new HBO series.

by Iana Murray / Photography by Nik Antonio — September 14, 2020

A few years ago, Jack Dylan Grazer took a trip to the movie theater. He was in Toronto and it was one of his days off from filming Shazam!, the DC comedy in which he plays the shape-shifting hero’s foster brother. He decided to watch Call Me By Your Name, and he immediately fell for it. Grazer took note of the director’s name that appeared in the credits—Luca Guadagnino—and turned to his mother.

“I want to work with him,” he told her. With eerie prescience, she assured him: “You will.”

Whether Grazer, now 17, has a knack for manifestation, or it was all just happenstance, his wish came true in the form of We Are Who We Are, Guadagnino’s coming of age drama which follows a group of army brats living on an American military base in Italy. Thematically, the show is something of a spiritual successor to Call Me By Your Name: Grazer plays Fraser, a tempestuous 14-year-old with a pair of headphones constantly plugged in his ears. He’s the new arrival at the base with his mothers (Chloë Sevigny and Alice Braga), and quickly forms a deep bond with his neighbour, Caitlin (Jordan Kristine Seamon), as they both wrestle with their sexuality and identity in the midst of domestic troubles and teenage debauchery.

“He’s an enigma to himself,” Grazer says of his character. “He doesn’t really understand a lot of the things he does but he’s so forthright so he convinces himself that he knows everything. He feels like other people don’t deserve his intelligence. But he’s also very volatile and aggressive at times, and not because he’s coming from an angry place but because he’s constantly questioning who he is.”

If Fraser is just beginning his coming of age when we first meet him, Grazer is inching closer to the end. Starring in enormous blockbusters including IT, he became the Loser Club’s resident hypochondriac at age 12 and a superhero’s sidekick by 15. His films have grossed a combined total of over $1.5 billion. Suddenly the stakes are multiplied tenfold during what are ostensibly, and horrifyingly, the most awkward years of your life. Every misstep is now being monitored, examined through a microscope of millions. (See: His 3.8 million fans on Instagram, to say nothing of the countless stan accounts.) Child fame is a disarming transaction like that: a stable career and all the other perks of being a celebrity, but at the cost of normalcy. That unalleviating pressure forces a kid to mature fast.

Grazer is acutely aware of this fact, admitting outright that he’s “not a normal person.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I became 70 when I was 7!” he laughs. “I don’t know if I really had much of a childhood. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to grow up really fast.”

Nevertheless, he’s still 17. When we meet over Zoom, his shoulder length curls are damp and disheveled (he just got out of the shower), his black painted fingernails contrast with his brightly-lit, white bedroom as he rests his face on his hand. It’s a Saturday morning and he looks tired: It’s his first week back at school, which has traded classrooms for hours of video calls reminiscent of the one we’re currently on. “It feels like the days are shorter because the teachers don’t want to torture their students by keeping them on a computer for six hours a day,” he tells me. “You do miss the social aspect of being at school.”

If you were to judge Grazer by what’s out there on the internet, you’d expect an anarchic and relentless bundle of energy. A quick YouTube search brings up results like “jack dylan grazer being a drama queen” and “jack dylan grazer being chaotic in interviews for 4 and a half minutes straight.” He trolled a YouTube gamer on Instagram Live. His TikToks are inscrutable.

But here, he’s incredibly earnest, as he excitedly talks about his skateboarding hobby (a skill he picked up after auditioning for Mid90s) and his attempts to learn the flute (“I need to learn how to read sheet music, but it’s like reading Hebrew!”). He’s calm and thoughtful, as if this project we’re discussing requires a shift in sensibility.

For Grazer, acting had always simply been fun. While other kids might take up a sport or get hooked on video games, he performed in musical theater with the Adderley School because he “just wanted to play.” His roles so far have been reflective of his carefree approach to the job: Up until now, he’s portrayed best friends with biting one-liners, or the younger version of the protagonist in a flashback. IT is a prime example of both. In the horror franchise, Grazer plays a neurotic germaphobe running from a fear-eating clown, but in reality, the film felt like “summer camp.” Both films never felt like work; he just learned his lines and got to hang out on extravagant sets with his best friends. Likewise, school amounted to being pulled off set by a teacher in between takes to cram in the mandatory hours.

But with We Are Who We Are, he steps into his first leading role, one that required him to convey longing and confusion through Elio-like physicality and subtext. It’s abnormal to talk about the show as a turning point for an actor who isn’t even a legal adult yet, but Grazer explains that the show required him to radically change his approach to acting. He spent six months in Italy (“It felt like I was in Call Me By Your Name.”) and built up the character beyond what was on the page in collaboration with Guadagnino. “His philosophy is that we know our characters better than anyone else—even the writers—because we are the characters essentially,” he explains.

In many ways, Grazer absorbed that philosophy entirely. He describes the experience less as a performance and more like a “rebirth”—perhaps even an attempt at method acting. Over those months in Italy, the distinctions between actor and character gradually became indistinguishable. “I had no other choice but to act and surrender to Fraser entirely and throw Jack Dylan Grazer out the window,” he says. “I would go out and get a coffee as Fraser and walk like Fraser. That was just me trying to get into [character], but then I slipped at some point and just became Fraser.”

One day on set, he looked at himself in the mirror, and the hardened kid standing there with a bleach-blond dye job and oversized shorts was unrecognizable to him. He could only see Fraser. While talking about his character, he seems to unintentionally switch pronouns, from “he” to “I”, as if the two still remain one and the same.

The process was so transformative that it forced him to re-evaluate himself entirely. “I never really struggled with identity before,” Grazer tells me. “But I think the show opened up my eyes to question myself. Being Fraser forced me to question what I wanted and what I stood for and what I believed in. At some points, the show bled into reality.”

When asked how he has changed, he takes a pause and a pensive swivel in his armchair, unsure of how to answer. “I think I was more ignorant before I did the show,” he says, and he leaves it at that.

Coming of agers are a particularly well-trodden genre, but there’s a naturalistic, raw energy to We Are Who We Are that is distinctive from what we’ve seen before. Each character quietly struggles with their own problems and growing pains—for Fraser, it’s his sexuality. Caught in a fraught relationship with his lesbian mother and an infatuation with another man, his story doesn’t tick off the familiar beats. His personal discovery is instead internal and intimate. "I think every single person born as a boy has this guard. It’s this guard that they don’t even realize they have, where they’re initially like, ‘Being gay? I could never.’ But we’re all born as humans who are attracted to whatever we’re attracted to," he says. "I think that’s how Fraser interprets it as well. Yes, he’s reserved and nervous about it in the beginning because he’s unlocking this new idea for himself. He’s figuring it out, and that’s what you see in the show: him coming to terms with this idea."

As our conversation winds to a close, I ask him if Martin Scorsese ever visited the set—his daughter, Francesca, plays the confident cool girl of the show’s teen cohort—and his eyes widen. “That was actually a really stressful day,” he divulges. Still, he revels in the memory, speaking so fast it’s like someone has put him on 2.5x speed as he shows off his impersonation of Guadagnino. The director was so nervous about Scorsese’s presence that production halted that day.

“Luca was like, ‘I cannot do this today because Martin Scorsese is on my set. I don’t know what to do, this is not good for me. I will have a panic attack before the day ends,’” Grazer says in his best Italian accent. “It’s like if you’re a painter and Van Gogh shows up.”

Admittedly, Grazer is also a self-proclaimed superfan of the Wolf of Wall Street director, and afterwards, he got to spend several days with his idol, as they went on lavish restaurant outings in Italy and talked about anything and everything.

He takes a second to compose himself. A giddy, Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face. The kid in him comes flooding back.

“...Oh my god!” he yells. “I met Martin Scorsese!”

#jack dylan grazer #fraser wilson #we are who we are #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter two #freddy freeman #shazam!#wawwa #luca guadagnino #hbo #hbo max #sky atlantic #interview #gq #wawwa press

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

it wasn’t power i coveted; it was acceptance.

Titans 3.06

y’know, i was just thinking the other day that 1.06/1.07 and 2.06/2.07 were the best episodes of their respective seasons, so i have great hopes going in to this one. fingers crossed!

as always, typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. oh! um... that was a Cold Open, all right. *nudges* get it? cold? because it’s snowing? and two people got murdered in cold blood? eh?

... oh, i’ve just started.

1.5. i wonder if “i want to be sipping pina coladas on a beach with you” is the new “i’m just one day away from retiring.” i was so on edge after that--i kept expecting that car to explode. even so, the way they died wasn’t an anticlimax: brutal, and quick.

1.75. so i’m assuming that’s the titular lady vic! this show better bring up why this doll was important or why these two cops needed to be killed, and not leave it to the ether like jericho’s little mindscape jaunt in 2.08 (i’m still dying to know what that was about???)

i love how deliberately unappealing wayne manor is.

(sorry for the pic quality. i don’t have hbo max! ssshhh.)

2.3. i love the many references to “home” and “our house” when they’ve been here for less than a week and saw one of their friends get blown into pieces. i mean, i unironically love it: home is where family is, after all!

2.5. i’d like to say that kom is playing some sort of long game here, especially given the build-up we had last season and some of the more niggling details this season: why did kom choose now to use her bond to lure kory when she’s been on earth for months? why did justin call kory now, just around the time that she started getting kom’s visions? and what about kom’s ability to exactly imitate other people? hmmm.

2.75. the reason i wrote i’d like to say is that i’ve made the mistake of assuming plot complexity where there is none; i was so invested in the jason todd orchestrated his own death theory for instance, when it turns out that oops! ra’s al ghul just happened to leave a little lazarus puddle in gotham, and oh yeah! scarecrow just happens to have a network of henchmen working for him on the outside and a fully functional laboratory and a weapons cache fit for a new supervillain in the basement of the high security psychiatric unit/prison that he’s in!

(no i’m not bitter, why do you ask)

2.8. iiiii don’t know what to say about the implications of sex slavery being a thing on tamaran, so i’m not going to say anything at all. for now.

3. gotham, six years ago... wasn’t it five years before s2 that jericho died and the titans disbanded? and when was the flashback from 1.06 where dick let zucco die? i think it was after the events of 2.08: jericho? i can’t seem to find any transcripts or reliable information online, so i’m going to have to rewatch 1.06 at some point.

(i love the old-fashioned batman music in this heist scene)

3.5. “security is a joke... it’s my way of keeping my dad on his toes”. what you’re an ethical thief now, like an ethical hacker? i don’t think that excuse is going to sell, barbara, on the day you do encounter a decent security system and your father is forced to arrest you.

(then again, gotham’s security is piss-poor. did you know that you could just walk into arkham asylum without any official clearance, ply one of its most dangerous inhabitants with contraband, and said inmate could get away with having an entire laboratory and weapons cache--NO I’M NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO)

3.8 so that flashback between dick and barbara was really cute! and also illuminating:

a) dick sounds so light, so... um. look. i have some apologies to tender to mr thwaites, because while i’ve always thought he does a fine job as dick grayson, i’ve never been terribly fond of his cadence as he delivers dialogue. it’s often monotonous, i thought, but then again, he’s usually delivering exposition or dealing with one soul-crushing crisis or the other. so i was pleasantly surprised to hear dick sound so carefree and alive in his conversation with barbara, laughing frequently, his emotions so bare and bubbling to the surface. it’s really a fantastic contrast to the traumatised and world-weary dick grayson that we see now, even more so than the costume department just bunging a backwards-baseball cap on mr thwaites’ head and hoping that will convince us of his relative youth.

b) and god, when he wakes up from that memory, all alone in his bed, bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder (bullet holes that are--in a somewhat convoluted way--barbara’s fault)? yikes. it’s great. you have my apologies, mr thwaites!

c) can you imagine dick just... crawling back to wayne manor, trying not to be seen by anybody, shedding his suit and just... collapsing onto his bed without even tending to his wound? the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of it?

d) it’s so interesting to see how barbara and dick approach the idea of legacy--a big theme on the show!--in this flashback. barbara is the one bucking the idea that she should follow in her father’s footsteps, while dick seems pretty content with the batman-and-robin setup, and even tries to get barbara to join their team (robin-girl. pfffft). obviously after this several traumatic things happen wherein dick ends up questioning and then resenting his role as robin, his relationship with batman or even returning as a vigilante at all. and barbara... ends up replacing her father as commissioner. it’s tragic, really.

e) the dynamic between dick and barbara in the flashback reminds me of how it was between dick and donna in 1.08 and even between kory and dick in early s1. it’s like having an older, strong-willed woman by his side means he gives over the steering wheel for a while and lets himself... unspool, a little bit. it’s kinda endearing.

also:

*pinches his cheeks*

3. you know, we talk about dick and Eldest Daughter Syndrome, and that’s definitely valid, but here gar seems to me the embodiment of it, with all the emotional gardening and firefighting that he’s expected to do. he’s kind of the guy expected to keep his shit together and take care of everyone else while they are falling completely to pieces, unable to carve out time to process his own trauma. he’s also picked up dick’s and kory’s tendencies to bottle up their struggles and shun appearing vulnerable, and he’s struggling in the shadow of both dick and kory undergoing acute crises, his best friend (and frequent confidante) on the other side of the world, and seeing hank die, utterly helpless to stop it.

i’m glad that he got a chance to tell dick even a smidgeon of what he really feels, and i hope this is at least a semblance of a wake up call for dick to actually sit down and work with the people he repeatedly calls family.

3.5. it’s heartening to see that dick immediately makes it his priority to go talk to gar. but don’t blow off kory in the process, man!

4. i’m really loving this dynamic between kom and conner--i get the idea that both of them consider each other as Unknowns, alien two times over. but conner’s only ever known the titans, who embrace being different, and kom’s only ever known... well.

anyway, kory is Really Stressed, and honestly? #relatable.

when you’re forced to bring an estranged family member to hang out with your friends...

4.5. i love that the titans are spending so much time in the kitchen. a real family!

5. jonathan crane is a creep and i absolutely cannot stand him.

5.25. how did he get a whole lab setup (in the basement of a hospital...?) with a bunch of whitecoats to work for him? how did he just waltz into the viewing room of an operation theatre when he’s one of the most wanted men in gotham right now? why is jason wandering around maskless when--presumably--as the adopted son of the most famous person in gotham he’d be a tad more recognisable than your average joe?

why do i expect this show to answer anything anymore?

5.5. that’s not necessarily a criticism, mind; i’ve said since season 1 that titans is very comics-like in this aspect, all about the Aesthetic and the splash-page splendour rather than the niggling unimportant details of how or when the characters got to said location. like. the camera gliding over the operation being set-up, lady vic bursting in and doing her murder dance (imagine the luck of the poor intern who chose this day and this surgery to assist) and jason, shocked and slack-jawed, framed by blood.

5.75. it’s a sobering reminder for jason that, though he chose this path in order to gain control over a world that seemed like it was rapidly spinning out of his grip, he’s only succeeded in handing over even more control to a man with an agenda that is very clearly not aligned with his own. he’s in too far to stop now, though.

5.9. i have a lot more thoughts about jason! saving it up for the end of this recap, though.

6. more kitchen time! i better see dick do some cooking soon...

(”our kitchen”! it still delights me! kitchens are So Important)

6.25. so much of dick’s issues have revolved around his relationship with bruce, so it’s completely understandable that in the wake of a huge crisis where bruce literally asks dick to replace him and be a “better” him, dick would default to all the worst things he learned from the man. and i’m glad kory’s having none of it, but come on, guys. the woman’s literally fetched her fratricidal sister out of a hole in the ground with no idea what said sister is going to do next and experiencing a burgeoning sense of guilt far, far beyond her history with the titans, and dick’s too far into his autocolonoscopy that he can’t see that she needs help.

6.5. “he services your urges”--well, as far as we know, kory is the last person he had sex with...

7. “i hope [gar] isn’t angry with me...” SIR! i thought you’d already spoken to him! smh, as the kids say. kory wouldn’t be needing to reassure you if you just took the effort to build two way emotional relationships with the rest of the team. @superohclair was taking about dick’s relatively low emotional intelligence? i agree.

7.5. “i got my own problems [...] you and barbara? fix it.” YOU TELL HIM, KORY

8. man i really like this weird, sad tension between dick and barbara--this sense that both of them are approaching the other based on how they remember them and are ultimately disappointed by the truth. barbara thought she could trust dick to... well, be a better batman, but dick has not only failed at that in her eyes, but repeatedly undermined her while exploiting the authority that she gave him. in dick’s eyes, this is nothing like the barbara that he knew, rebellious and ready to do whatever it takes to find something.

like. this show sometimes really hits me in the chest about the ways it shows kids grow into adults and into caretakers, and the way it’s stop-start, the ways nothing can happen at all for a long time and then it’s Crisis Central all at once and there’s no space to breathe. the weird sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia.

8.5. oracle name drop! i agree with barbara, any system that can just randomly tap into gotham phonelines is a monster.

8.7. (i don’t know if it’s my imagination, but is dick holding himself... differently in this episode? like that wound is definitely bothering him, and he’s running on fumes)

9. man, that was a really sweet scene between kom and conner. “feeling alien in your own world”... “not quite here nor there”

honestly this team runs on conner and gar’s faith in their value as a family, and it’s a sign of conner’s generous heart that he extends that opportunity to blackfire. this arc of maturation for him, where he’s now able to consciously choose which parts of himself he can use to do the thing he wants to so--save people--has been so fulfilling to recognise. this baby’s grown with the titans! and what he’s learnt is that people can get fucked up, but the titans is a place where they can be fucked up, and grow.

MY MAN CONNER

10. oh man i’m drinking in the gar-dick interaction in this episode like i’m three days into the desert and it’s the only source of water for miles around!

a) gar is absolutely not dealing with dick’s bullshit this episode and I LOVE IT. it’s such a far cry from the man who was idolising dick/robin back in s1 and expecting him to solve all their problems. dick is fallible, dick is fucked up, but he Tries His Best and that’s ok.

b) dick, huffing and puffing through that vent, unable to put any pressure on his left shoulder, trying to have a heart to heart with gar... fuck i love this asshole.

c) bruce took in a kid who was suffering... “and made him into a weapon”. well. i absolutely agree with dick that it was bruce who put these kids into these horrible situations with him and they came away with a bucketload of trauma to add to the one that they already had. but we know that bruce was really trying with jason, and at the end of s2, dick was coming to acknowledge that bruce had offered him something that wasn’t just darkness. jason’s death and bruce’s reaction to that shattered that fragile progress.

d) “gotham got to me too.” i feel more sympathetic towards dick running off on his own than most, and it’s not just because i’m an unapologetic stan. we’ve seen before that dick... devolves when overwhelmed, and he lashes out and makes ill thought out decisions and just Does Not Deal. it happened after hearing the news that deathstroke had returned in s2, and it didn’t help that everyone around him was reeling at the news, either. this time, however, he has his salvation in his family, and despite some stupid decisions like running off and kidnapping supervillains without telling his team, he’s been really on the ball this season. thinking clearly and logically, holding it together and working on a plan, thinking two steps ahead of the villains... yes.

e) gar needing to believe that jason isn’t beyond redemption... there’s a lot of blood on his hands, too, from when he was manipulated by cadmus last season. it makes sense why he’d relate to jason’s predicament, and i hope dick picked up on that.

f) my head just added a plaintive ow after dick jumped feet first into the storage room

i need, crave gifs of this scene!

11. *sits on hands* i’m going to talk more about red hood, i promise!

12. more gar and dick! is it my birthday??!!

(actually, according to the tamil calendar, it is my birthday! my “star” birthday)

12.5. excellent. dick using some implausible training that bruce taught him to solve a mystery? passing some of that knowledge onto gar? that proud smile when he sees gar perfectly execute moves that he taught him? MY HEART IS EXPLODING

13. aw, i love flashback!dick and barbara, they’re so cute <3

13.25. why does it not surprise me that the way he proposes a relationship to barbara is by saying “we make sense”? this guy can deduce exactly who was present where and what weapon they were holding from a garbled audio recording but other times he’s utterly clueless, and that’s a consistent character beat right from s1

13.5. so.... that’s why lady vic has it out for... barbara....? i don’t get it. it’s flimsy. but hey! the fun thing about titans is that i don’t have to get it. the payoff has nothing to do with the plot.

14. i can’t believe that barbara fell for that, but at least that wheelchair fight looked awesome, so.

15. oh yeah, i forgot that red hood bullied the mob into helping him and scarecrow... at least that explains the whitecoats and the elaborate set-up.

15.5. honestly i love how this dynamic between kory and kom is developing, though i wish more of the team would pay attention to it. time to call justin, i think!

16. i wonder what happened after that second flashback where barbara got hurt during that heist. did she give up on doing any more (maybe jim caught her)? was it because dick was called away by bruce and then the titans and got caught up in his own issues? maybe barbara froze him out because she wasn’t looking for the relationship that he was looking for? maybe the idea of doing that with someone turning into batman-lite was just... unappealing? scary?

whatever it is, it doesn’t look like dick ever processed the end of that relationship. it’s very intriguing to see where their dynamic goes next.

17. so.... what, did vic deliver some fear toxin to barbara? i... what?

17.5. and i TOLD YOU that they would never explain that doll or why vic attacked those two cops at the beginning! oh, titans. never change.

18. did jason just randomly have tim’s restaurant burgled? god, i’m feeling a bit nauseous... are they going to kill tim’s father?

18.25. i feel like the rest of the season is going to wrestle with jason’s culpability in the horrible stuff he’s doing and i’m already seeing that prospect divide fans. on one hand, his story is taking a lot of oxygen away from other equally interesting story arcs, and he’s done some truly awful things, like indiscriminate murder, threatening to kill children, blowing up hank, and potentially killing tim’s parents.

there’s something to be said for the kind of hold that crane has over him, and the so-called ‘anti-fear’ drug that he keeps plying jason with--he’s alone, drugged almost constantly (to the level of dependence), fresh from the trauma of being bludgeoned to death. he hasn’t conquered fear; he’s ruled by it. on the other hand, given that he’s the one character on the show given an obvious and identifiable ‘mental illness’ arc (maaaaybe dick too), one can argue that it’s irresponsible to show this progress into such violence: jason was vulnerable because he was struggling, and that left him vulnerable, but it took only a push before he became a fucking serial killer.

but that could mean we underestimate the degree of that vulnerability, and the mechanics of this universe where he fell into the clutches of the one supervillain perfectly designed to exploit that vulnerability. that helpless spiral into further and further self-destruction is all too real. it’s valuable to know that someone who has sunk that low can still seek help--actual help--and get it.

18.5. i don’t know. it’s not a question i’m going to resolve at the end of an overlong recap at 1 in the morning. i don’t believe it’s even a question that titans can resolve. but i am interested in where they’re going next with jason.

19. this episode was genuinely great! i’m pumped for the rest of the season!

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #barbara gordon #garfield logan #conner kent #komand'r #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi #this is a 3k+ MONSTER yikes

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nonstoplover · 3 years

Text

accidental reunion ~ joe liebgott (band of brothers)

my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist

pairing: joe liebgott x female reader

short summary: they met in Austria on V-J Day, it was just one night, they still can't forget the other

words: 2.4K

a/n: not gonna say much just that i'd do anything for joe liebgott, even if it includes giving up my whole life

taglist: @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @50svibes @pennyllanne @liebgotttme @nowinnablewar

One fun night on one of Easy's last nights in Austria. With lots of drinks, games, and the company of residents of the small village that was Kaprun who were willing to spend some celebratory time now that the war was actually, finally over.

It was undoubtedly one of the best nights the soldiers had in the past couple years - at least for Liebgott it definitely was. He accidentally bumped into a girl about his age in the small pub when on his way to get a new round of alcohol and then spent the rest of the night with her.

They never shared full names or addresses with each other, all they got to know were mentions of small things dropped by accident. Now Joe's back in San Francisco, back to life in peace and he can't get the girl out of his head. There's nothing he regrets more than not asking for only these basic pieces of information. He let the possibly only good thing that war gave him slip through his fingers.

There's not a day he doesn't think of her. He sees the sparkle of her eyes in the street lights, the colour of her hair in the polychrome autumn leaves, hears her giggle in a random girl's voice on the street that makes him do a hopeful double take only to be left disappointed a moment later. When he's in a pub on a night out, the swirling booze in his glass reminds him of her and that one night they got to spend together. When a young woman gets in his cab with hair similar to hers, his heart always skips a beat as he looks back over his shoulder with sudden high hopes, his eyes always connecting with a pair of orbs that are clearly not hers.

He doesn't even know why he feels this way - he truly doesn't know her after all. Still, it's like in a matter of only a couple hours a connection has been created, one that's about impossible to break. If he believed in soulmates, maybe he'd say that it is just that. But he doesn't.

So he just lets the days pass with the occasional but somehow still almost constant thoughts of the girl. Every other week or when he just has the next day off, he might try to forget about her, find some inner peace with another woman, even though he knows that the next morning he'll wake up with her first name on the tip of his tongue just the same.

(y/n), on the other side of the planet tries to go on with her life after the war - she truly does. But still, it feels like there's nothing left for her in Austria anymore. Everything's changed. The village, the people living there, even her own perspective and thoughts on life has changed. Enough to help her make the decision of moving to the United States.

To her family she says it's only because of the seemingly endless opportunities there, in the process trying to convince even herself that it's not because of the fluffy brown haired paratrooper she met on the night of V-J Day.

Of course it's not because of him, all she knows about the young man is that his first name is Joe, that his fellow soldiers called him Lieb or something like that once or twice throughout the night, that he wanted to be a cab driver back in America, and that he was from San Francisco. It's nowhere enough information to give up her whole life and start a completely new one on the opposite side of the world.

Still, somehow it is enough for her, and it also gives her a starting point when six months after they first - and by far last - met she appears in the enormous American city all by herself, all her life packed up in two suitcases she drags behind herself, heart beating frantically as she eyes the buildings and hears the unimaginable street noise around her. To say she's anxious is an understatement - hell, she doesn't even speak English that good.

After the first and most important things are settled - a place to live in, a job to earn money with -, she's unable to stop herself and flips the telephone book up and calls a few of the cab companies around the city, trying to ask about him. But seemingly there are too many Joe's around who are driving taxis, and after the fourth or fifth unsuccessful try that leaves her feeling all stupid and naive she gives up.

She tries hard to fit in, makes friends at work and with the two girls she's rented the room she's now living in from, spends every evening improving her knowledge of the language. The more time passes, the better she feels - and the more she feels like she belongs -, though the feeling of missing something from her life never goes away. The feeling of missing somebody, to be more precise.

About two months later one day she oversleeps and is in a hurry to get to work in time so she decides to catch a cab instead of her usual choice of travelling by public transport. Almost practically falling down to the seat as she scrambles inside, she's already saying the address whilst also trying hard to catch her breath - she can only hope the driver can understand her panting words.

She closes her eyes, pressing her palm to her forehead and focusing on slowing her heartbeat back down to normal. Only half a minute passes though before she leans back in her seat and lets her eyelids open again, and her glance subconsciously falls on the cab driver.

Silently examining his features from diagonally and behind she can't help but feel a weird feeling tingle in her chest, as if her whole existence has suddenly found something familiar. Her eyes move back up on his profile, on the elegant line of his nose and the way a strand of brown hair has delicately fallen in front of his forehead.

"Joe," the name she still hears in her sleep every night leaves her lips in an almost breathless, subconscious whisper.

Then the next moment his head whips around - so fast that she can't help but worry he'll have whiplash - and the oh so familiar eyes connect with hers.

"(y/n)?" Comes the equally disbelieving, quietly muttered answer from him.

He remembers her.

Suddenly all the frustration of leaving her home behind and moving across the world, all the frustration of trying to find him feels worth it. She's found him. Or has he found her? It was most likely fate bringing the two back together, giving them one last chance to see what they would do.

"What are you doing here?" Joe exclaims excitedly, his glance moving back and forth frantically between the road in front of him and her face.

"I moved here," (y/n) shrugs.

"You what?"

She only giggles in response to his reaction - she's too overwhelmed with happiness to actually say something.

"It's good to see you," he admits, mentally adding that it's not only good, more like the best thing that has ever happened to him. He knows he can't just attack her like that, she probably didn't move here because of him anyway so he keeps his mouth shut to keep these thougths in.

"You too," she beams at him in the rear-view mirror before quietly adding one more thought, mainly to herself. "By now I thought I'll never find you."

And just like that the previous thought almost fully disappears from his mind, his breath hitching in his throat. "You tried to find me?" Joe asks with a smug grin on his face, one that's supposed to hide the swirl of his true and not at all like him emotions.

"Well, yeah, of course," the girl shrugs sheepishly, earning a joyous hum from him as a wordless reply.

For a couple long seconds they stay in silence, both of them deep in their thoughts as their minds try to process the sudden emergence of the other. Some previously never felt tension rises slowly in the air of the car, suddenly neither knows what to say or what to do. What they've been dreaming about for more than half a year now has just come true - and they weren't ready for it.

"Where're you going?" Joe speaks up again to break the quiet. "I mean, why are going there, 'cause I know where you're going."

This earns him a mental slaps from himself for behaving so stupid. What is he doing? Why is he like this? Where's his usual confident cockiness?

"Work."

Maybe it was worth it, coming here just to see him again, but there's no guarantee that he hasn't found someone else by now - even if he does remember her - or that he would even want to see her again after today. Doubt reappears in her mind, keeping her from speaking her mind and ask him about all the things she's been dying to ask him ever since that night back in Austria.

"When did you arrive here?"

"Two months ago."

"Sorry if I'm asking too much, I'll stop," Joe glances at her in the mirror, taking her reserved, short answers wrong, thinking that she just doesn't want to talk with him.

"No, no, it's fine!" (y/n)'s quick to reassure, eyes opened wide. "I should be the one apologising for not answering more or asking back. I'm just- ugh, I don't know. I've been thinking about this moment for so long that now I'm scared it's just a dream again. I don't want to get too empathized in case I'll only wake up in my bed again."

"This is real life, I swear," Joe chuckles - her words have managed to calm him down again. He lets go of the steering wheel with one hand and reaches back above the car seat - nothing but a simple signal towards her.

Mindlessly holding back her breath she raises a hand of her own and lets her skin bump into his for a short moment before daringly fully wrapping her fingers around his. An immediate smile takes over his features as he loosens into her touch.

"See? It's not a dream," he grins to himself, thumb moving over the back of her hand in soft small caresses.

"I'm glad it isn't," (y/n) giggles and Joe lets out a chuckle himself.

Before they could truly let go and enjoy the drive to the fullest, he pulls over outside a building that (y/n) realises as her work place when finally looking out the window.

Swiftly letting go of his hand she starts rummaging through her reticule to find her purse. When she pulls out the proper banknotes and tries to push them in his palm, he just shakes his head and moves his hand back to the steering wheel.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "Take it as a welcome in San Francisco gift."

"Thank you," she mumbles with flushing cheeks before collecting her things and moving to get out of the cab.

She closes the door already when the sudden realisation hits her - she still doesn't know either his full name or his address, or anything for real.

Her hand rises almost on its own and her knuckles rap a fast rhythm against the glass next to the front seat. Joe's eyes are already on her as he scoots closer to roll down the window.

"I just wondered if I could have your phone number," she blurts out before she could think twice leaning down so her head pops back into the car.

With a raise of an eyebrow and a teasing smirk sitting upon his lips he nods in acknowledgement. "For the better part of this past minute I've been trying to find the courage to ask for your number."

(y/n) can feel the blood rush to her cheeks as she realises how truly straight-forward she's acted, but before she can raise a hand to hide her face in utter embarrassment, Joe starts moving around inside the car, and only a second or two later he retrieves his hand with a pen in-between his fingers. With his free hand he reaches out to gently grab her wrist and pulls it fully inside, pushing the material of her coat and long-sleeved blouse up towards her elbow.

Then he scribbles something on her soft skin, hissing whenever the pen doesn't want to write and he has to press the point of it deeper into her arm even though he really wouldn't want to hurt her even the slightest bit.

"There you go," his glance moves back up to her face when he finishes, winking at her.

(y/n) bites back a giggle before straightening back up, pulling out of the cab fully.

"See you later, Joe," she smiles at him one last time before turning around and rushing inside the building - the pinkness of her cheeks and the not erasable, wide smile on her face being true proofs of her emotions.

Later, when she's finally at her desk, coat removed and body gently slumping into the chair, her eyes catch sight of the writing again and she finally takes a better look at it. There's a phone number, completed with a simple Joe Liebgott and a don't you dare not call me under it.

A soft giggle escapes (y/n)'s lungs as she reads the last line, shaking her head in happy disbelief whilst also wondering how he could write so much in such a short time and without her even noticing. She must've been too entranced by the sparkling of his eyes, the way that one strand of hair fell and bounced in the air and how he - probably subconsciously - stuck the tip of his tongue out past his lips in concentration.

Then with a blissful sigh she lowers her arm again, eyes staring out of her head, looking at nothing in particular - instead picturing his face again inside her mind.

"Liebgott," she mutters to herself, tasting the name rolling down her tongue. She finally knows his name.

.::the end::.

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