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flusteredloser · 3 years

Text

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter.

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets.

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.”

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?”

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal.

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.” “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?” she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair.

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry.

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling.

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed.

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.”

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence.

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.”

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...”

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends.

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan).

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...”

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.”

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening.

“i- no. that was it.”

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right?

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous.

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his.

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red.

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud.

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face.

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say.

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face. fuck. “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent.

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze.

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?”

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

517 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

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thunder - ksj | m

your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. do you know you're unlike any other? you'll always be my thunder. - thunder, boys like girls

↳ summary- you allow your best friend Jin to take you backpacking once per year. apparently, this year’s outing would be the wettest yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

↳ word count- 6k

↳ genre- fluff, tiny angst, smut, comedy

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, light dom!jin, light sub!reader, fucking in tents haha ha ha ha, cum play, cum eating, possessive dirty talk

↳ a/n- wow hello! its been so long since i uploaded a fic i almost forgot how to do it! i would like to give you a fic that i’ve had in my storage since march, and one i’m excited to finally finish. i’d be nowhere without @taetaewonderland @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia for hyping me up to post it in the first place. thank u to @shadowsremedy for being my fav beta ily ily ily. enjoy my babes! pls feel free to message me!

“Kim Seokjin, if you got us lost, I’m going to murder you,” you seethed as your pulled your booted foot out of a slick puddle of mud.

“I didn’t get us lost, dear. The map is wrong,” he replied coolly as he twisted the crumpled map from portrait to landscape, and back again. “I’m an excellent navigator, but when the tools I have are faulty…”.

You grumbled, stopping your walk to sit on a fallen log. You sighed audibly at your best friend, still maneuvering in the small clearing in the forest, trying to match the map to where you were. You chanced a look at the sky as you sought to catch your breath and sate your anger. Dark, heavy clouds were forming, the kind that didn’t just indicate a sprinkle but a torrential downpour.

“Shit, Jin. It’s going to storm soon,” you warned.

He stopped his map seeking and glanced at the sky, frown buried deep in his face.

Instantly, as if it never changed, he returned to his bright and cheery demeanor.

“Well! Looks like we should work faster to make it back to camp, huh?”

Seokjin would be excited for an unexpected kink in your plans. The boy was obsessed with “roughing it”. You agreed to one weekend with minimal hiking. Camping, in your opinion, was meant to be spent drunk around a fire eating s’mores and telling scary stories, not walking for miles through nothing but trees, mud, and probably bears.

Camping had never been your favorite hobby, and you allowed Seokjin to take you off trail backpacking once per year. The man looked forward to it, planned it several months in advance, and counted down the days until he stuffed you in his Jeep down a deserted forest highway to the campsite.

Only, Jin never took the “minimal hiking” thing too seriously.

“It’s an easy hike,” he had promised you that morning as you set up camp. “More of a stroll than anything.”

You kicked at the dirt beneath you now, upset you had listened to the dark-haired man’s empty promises.

“How about we just go back the way we came from?” You suggested as you stood up and brushed the dirt off your backside from the log.

“Nonsense,” he sniffed. “I’ve got it right here. We can take this trail,” he gestured at a clearing through the trees, “for about a mile, turn left at the open valley, and we’ll be back at camp two miles after that!” He proclaimed his findings as if it were so easy, so obvious.

“Great, three miles of hiking. After we’ve already done four, at least.”

“Yes, my ever-positive sunshine, you should be happy I found us a shortcut.” He patted your head and smiled at you as he adjusted your backpack strap that was sliding off your shoulders. He lingered, eyes on you and your lips for just a fraction too long, before he turned and began leading you through the forest.

Your heart was racing, unrelated to the elevation or the hike.

You gave in so easily to Jin not because he was your best friend since childhood, but also because he was the man you were hopelessly in love with.

You’d been smitten with the older boy since your senior year of high school, when he jokingly asked you to prom and you realized you wanted Seokjin courting you to be a regular occurrence.

You stayed by his side through it all, all girlfriends and breakups. It hurt to watch him with another, but maintaining his friendship was more important than anything else and you weren’t about to lose him to a crush that you could easily just avoid.

Seokjin was attached to your hip, a fact your friends never let you live down. They were relentless in encouraging you two to be alone, and for you to admit your feelings to him. They told you they were sure he would reciprocate it.

Unbeknownst to them, you had admitted it.

You and Jin once got messy drunk on the floor of your apartment, where you slithered up into his lap and whispered your secret devotion to your best friend. Seokjin merely laughed and kissed your nose. You were so embarrassed and rejected you never brought it up again. Best to leave it be, rather than bring a 15 year friendship to a screeching halt.

So—you valiantly stood by him as his best friend and confidante. You were there when he excitedly told you about his new girlfriend, or when he called you crying over their breakup. Your heart twinged at both; you wanted to be the reason for his excitement and the balm to his wounded heart.

You allowed Seokjin to take you on all his wild adventures. Like now—traipsing through the forest with no direction in sight, because you would have done nearly anything for the boy.

A crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts and you jumped at the sudden sound.

“Ah, so cute,” he smiled at you, “still afraid of thunder?”

You blushed and pouted. “It just surprised me, is all.”

He smirked as if to say he didn’t believe you and nodded. “We should get a move on, don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

You shivered at the thought. It was already cool in the forest; the trees providing enough coverage it locked out any sun, if there had been any. You quickly moved in step behind your best friend. It only took a few minutes of silence before the telltale pitter patter of droplets on leaves began. A fat raindrop landed on your forehead.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “It’s starting.”

“I know,” Jin suddenly looked worried, his confident demeanor cracking. He looked back at you and tightened the straps on his backpack.

“Let’s run?”

You were powerless to deny any request from him. Plus, you didn’t really feel like getting drenched.

You adjusted your own backpack and took off, running through the quickly dampening forest beside Seokjin.

The rain came in a downpour. It hit you hard, blurring your vision. Seokjin slipped his hand into yours, not wanting to lose you in the storm. You pushed your legs in time with his, jumping around fell logs and rocks and skipping large puddles.

You were drenched as Seokjin pulled you into a makeshift canopy of rocks, a momentary pause from the storm to catch your breath. Your hair was soaking wet, as if freshly showered. Seokjin’s hair stuck to his face, and you smiled as he looked at you with concern. It only took a moment until you were both bursting with laughter, finding humor at the moment.

It was something you loved about Seokjin. He always knew how to make you laugh in times it seemed impossible.

“This sucks,” you spoke through your joyful laughter. He nodded in agreement.

“I think we’re almost back. We need to turn soon, and then we’ve got about two more miles. You ready?”

You agreed and pushed back the slick hair in your eyes, before doing the same for him. His eyes sparkled. You didn’t know what it meant.

In an instant, you were running again. The backpack bounced against your back and rain pounded your body. The things you did for Kim Seokjin. You were whipped, and you knew it.

The trail seemed like it went on forever. You both became so tired of running that you slowed and trudged slowly through mud as rain pelted you, accepting your fate of soaking to the bone. You were sure you had never been this drenched in your life. Your clothes were stuck to your body and dripping down into your shoes and socks. Your teeth chattered in the breeze—it felt as if the wind whipped right through you. The sky rumbled again, as if warning you to hurry lest it dump more rain on you.

Seokjin was always the caring companion. He rubbed your shoulders and arms to warm them up and promised a roaring fire. You hated how much it made your heart burst.

You were very much looking forward to your one-man tent, stocked with a sleeping bag and blankets. You could strip down and dry off and slip into the warmth of your own personal nest.

Seokjin waxed poetic about his own spacious tent—a lofty family sized one, and how he made sure he brought his sleeping bag along with 8 thick blankets, and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle down into his own. Seokjin was the picture of preparedness. He even kept a locking box full of snacks in his tent because the boy was a foodie and couldn’t survive without the treats. It came in handy.

“What would you do if we were stuck out here forever?” You posed to your best friend, curious about his response and desperate to pass the time as you hiked.

“Well,” he thought aloud. “I’d miss the guys. But I’d be happy to be stuck out here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“You wouldn’t miss, ah—what’s her name? Miya?”

Seokjin shrugged. “She’s fun. She’s not you, though.”

You couldn’t help but grumble internally. She was good enough to date, and you weren’t. She was different in some respect.

“Are things not going well with her?” You asked, secretly hoping they weren’t.

“It’s fine. She’s nice and all,” he sighed. “Just, there’s no spark there, you know?”

You knew all too well. Any man you tried to date paled compared to your best friend, and the fireworks behind your every heartbeat when you were near him.

“What about you?” He was peering into your eyes and into what felt like your soul. “You and Jungkook sure seem cozy.” His tone sounded annoyed, sarcastic even.

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh.

“Oh god, no,” you shook your soggy head. “Not my type. We’re good friends and that’s it. Plus, I’m sure he’s into Jimin.”

Seokjin shrugged again. “You sit on his lap and cuddle up to him all the time…”

“Are you jealous?” You smirked, nudging the man. Please, god, please be jealous.

“N-No!” He was sharp. “I’m not.”

Ouch.

You remained silent, eyes downcast at your muddy boots as you walked alongside the man.

“Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat of silence.

“Don’t worry about it, Seokjin. I got it—loud and clear.”

Seokjin looked hurt, a wave of dissatisfaction crossing his features. He wanted to say something, mouth opening to continue his apology. You ignored it wholly. He knew your feelings. There was no way he couldn’t remember that night. You pushed ahead of the man, walking in front of him to avoid his pained gaze and likely hurried apology.

The light of day was leaving. Everything around you was steadily getting darker, and the rain showed no sign of giving up. You silently begged to be back to the safety of your camp soon, lest you become walking mountain lion bait.

“There’s camp!” Seokjin finally pointed and ran through the rain ahead of you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you sighed, feeling as if it lifted a weight from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to strip out of your soaking clothes and slither into your blankets.

“Oh shit,” Seokjin whispered, stopping where he stood. You followed his gaze, concerned about what stopped the boy so quickly.

Your tent was ripped open, the insides of it exposed to the wind and rain. Everything you owned was soaking wet. You had set it up in a clearing with not too many trees above it, and it appeared the lack of protection against the wind and rain tore the poor fabric to shreds.

A worn-out and distraught sob left your lips.

“No!”

You ran to the tent and nearly cried. Fortunately, beyond just being soaking wet and useless for the night, everything was intact. There was only no warmth to be had. No warm clothes to change into. Nothing.

“What the fuck am I going to do?!”

Seokjin placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You can share with me?” He sounded hopeful. “We can hang your clothes to dry and when the storm passes, we can build a fire and let your tent air out. But you should probably sleep in my tent tonight.”

You bit your lip. You had slept with Seokjin in more beds than you could count, always being forced to share a bed as the designated ‘best friends who don’t care’. And it was never easy for you. You always woke up with the delicious scent of his cologne and shampoo, and your body curled around his. His hardness would always be pressed up against you, and it took all you had not to wrap your mouth around it to wake him up.

“Yeah, thanks Seokjin,” you breathed. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’m tired. I just want to get some sleep.”

Seokjin slipped his backpack off and pulled yours off your frame. He hung them from a sturdy branch, protected by layers of trees overhead, to let them dry.

“I have some towels in my tent, go on in. You can get dry and hand me your wet clothes to hang. Then you can get in the blankets and I’ll make us something to eat.”

You blushed. Seokjin hadn’t seen you fully naked, ever; at least not since you were toddlers.

Slipping into his blankets while stark nude would be a dream. It was something you fantasized about more than you’d care to admit. But, in the current conditions, being naked and clammy in the blankets next to your best friend who didn’t return any feelings for you sounded more like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

If Seokjin noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He acted as if making you strip in his tent was a normal thing, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’ll wait out here,” he nodded dutifully.

You slipped out of your muddy boots and socks, and into his tent. It was nice and spacious, and the blankets looked incredibly enticing. It was kind of Seokjin to let you stay with him, even kinder that he would remain soaking wet to make you something to eat. Your body felt so worn out and drained, and you were sure he did too.

You peeled the wet clothing off of you, every bit, before sticking your head out the door and handing him the clothes.

“Don’t worry about food, okay? You should get dry too.”

He wrinkled his forehead.

“You sure?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’m sure. Plus, we have your snacks.”

“Ah, good thinking,” he shot his finger guns at you. “I’ll be there in a minute, then. Hand me a towel and I’ll get undressed out here.”

You shyly handed him a towel, now very aware that you and Seokjin would be in the same tent—naked. The thought thrilled you as much as it scared you.

It didn’t take long to burrow yourself into his freshly made bed roll, sliding into the neat layers. Seokjin was nearly military in his routine and order. Everything was always tucked, pressed, and laid down perfectly.

Your body wracked with shivers and chills—the blankets and sleeping bag were cold from the ambient air outside. You folded yourself together in a fetal position to maintain some warmth. It felt good to lie down on the soft bed mat, but the blankets were doing nothing to provide warmth.

The sound of the zipper opening the front door flap of the tent made you shake harder. You could feel the wind blow through the opening now. The sound of the storm was loud, and you were grateful for the heavy tarp covering Seokjin’s tent. It provided some respite from the wind and kept all water off the tent. At least Seokjin had been smart in his setup. You ignored the man’s suggestions to set up better, and you were fully regretting it now.

Seokjin had the towel wrapped around his waist and stepped about the tent easily. He dabbed at his upper body with a smaller towel from his suitcase and rubbed his hair dry. The normally perfectly coiffed head was now static-y and sticking up wildly. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so cold.

Seokjin moved around you and slid into the blankets, leaving a large space between you, before he threw the towel around his waist onto the floor. He was naked now; you noted internally. You both were. A shiver ran down your spine, unrelated to the relentless chill.

It was silent. All you could hear was the beating of the rain on the tarp and your teeth chattering as you shivered.

Seokjin stole a look at you, finally, and noticed your position, holding yourself to build warmth.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m j-j-just col-l-ld,” you whispered. “And t-t-tired.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but you heard the scratching sound of a moving sleeping bag and rustling of blankets and suddenly felt a very warm, very naked body pressed against you. It was blissful, and you moaned out loud at the feel of him spooning you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t know what for, and couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

You burrowed yourself down into his warmth and felt his arms wrap around you, securing you against him. He radiated heat. He felt like heaven. Your eyes closed—he had you feeling like you had stepped into a delicious sauna.

Seokjin’s muscular arms hadn’t moved an inch since they wrapped around you, but now his hands slowly rubbed at your torso, warming you everywhere his hand dragged. It felt electrifying and your body relaxed easily under his delicate fingertips.

It started out innocent, rubbing along your stomach and side to warm you further. But his hand began straying north, reaching the crest of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he rubbed over the cold swells. Your nipples were hard from the chill and pebbled even further with the touch of his hands. It made a gasp stick in your throat.

His lips touched your neck, lightly. They were warm too. It seemed his entire body was twenty degrees warmer than your own, and every touch felt like a raging flame. His hands continued rubbing along your breasts as he laved and sucked.

at the column of your throat.

As instantly as it began, Seokjin stopped. His hands hovered above your breasts.

He pressed kisses to your neck and face. “We should sleep, babe,” he sighed.

You wanted to protest, to push him further, to take care of what he started, but you couldn’t find the energy. Seokjin’s warmth matched with the comfort of his bedroll, and the soothing rise and fall of his breath was lulling you into sleep. Even though it was still early evening, the hike and the run back to safety took it all out of you.

Seokjin’s arms felt like safety. He secured them around you, slipping just underneath your breasts where his thumb could trace alongside the bottom as you easily succumbed to sleep.

It was still dark when you woke.

The rain was still coming down, light this time. It sounded relaxing, soothing. Seokjin was still spooning you, sleeping soundly behind you. You twisted in his grasp to gaze at him.

His hair was dry now, sticking out randomly about his pillow. You were sure if he saw it he’d panic, normally so precise with his looks. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, none of his chaotic energy and dramatic charisma.

You loved every facet of Seokjin. You loved the flamboyance, the sensitivity, the deep compassion for his friends.

You turned around, as gently and quietly as you could, and pressed a hand to his cheek—rubbing at the warm and soft flesh. He sighed softly in his sleep, moving against his pillow. An eye cracked open, and he stared at you.

“Why are you awake?” He whispered, his voice gentle. “It’s still dark.”

He was confused, and the look that graced his features was adorable. You wanted to photograph it and frame it, make it the lock screen of your phone.

You shook your head.

“Don’t know.”

Seokjin’s hand rubbed at your shoulder, then up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled at you.

“You look so cute in the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his compliment wash over you. You couldn’t find the words to reply. You let him continue caressing your cheek, feeling as if you were living a fantasy where Seokjin touched you like a lover.

You were so close to him, chest pressing against his own. Something about the quiet storm, the dark tent, had you disregarding any embarrassment you should have felt pressing your naked tits to the man's chest, but the spell of the forest had you pressing closer. Your lips were inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

The feel of Seokjin’s lips pressing against yours was light, but felt as if all the fireworks in the world exploded behind your eyes and within your belly. It started sweet, gentle. You kissed him like you always wanted to, full of unrequited love and unwavering desire. Your arms slithered around his neck, pulling him even closer against you.

The kiss turned deeper, mouths opening to allow the passage of tongues. He sought into your mouth, caressing yours with his own, pouring what felt like his very spirit into you. His hand left your back and slid up your sides to press against your breast.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, feeling your brain swirl headily. “Feels good.”

He didn’t reply, only kept kissing at your neck and pinching gently at your hardened nipples. It made you cry out, gaping at the slight pain.

“If you want me to stop, tell me.”

His words were gentle. His hands stilled, stopping all ministrations against you.

Your breath was hard and shaky, matching the erratic beat of your heart in your ribcage. Your unrequited crush of years was now roaming your body, touching you as a lover rather than a friend.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He was on you again, now bloodthirsty for any part of your skin to touch. He tugged at your nipples, suckled up your neck to kiss and lick at the shell of your ears. You pressed against him, gasping at the feel of his now stiff cock. He circled his hips, relishing in the feel of you against him. You wondered how he would feel inside you. He was thick and long—it would be a stretch, and a most delicious and welcome one.

He pressed you back against the pillow, hovering over your body as he kissed down your neck and sucked at the pressure points there. A pleasured sigh passed through your open lips, reveling in the feel of him on your skin. It was something you dreamed about often. It felt unreal to finally have it.

You were on display for him, and his eyes raked over you as if you were a Dalí in the Louvre. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, and you tilted your head back to moan. You didn’t care at all about how you looked, how this might be awkward in the next few hours. You cared only about feeling Seokjin within you, getting him off, succumbing to your own pleasure wrought by his hands and his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighed. “Wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you gasped as he slid a finger down to your core, circling faintly over your slick folds.

“Have you?”

“Seokjin, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and smiled, breathing through his nose in contentment.

“You weren’t just saying that when you were drunk then.”

You shook your head, and Seokjin opened his eyes to peer at you.

“No, Seokjin,” you whispered needily, his finger still so torturously close to your clit. “I meant it.”

He leaned down with a smile and planted gentle kisses on your cheeks, adoring and gentle.

“I’ve been in love with you too. I thought you were just drunk. I never acted on it because I didn’t want to get my heart broken.”

He pulled up and allowed his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He asked. “Like, really fucking hard. You good with that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. A deep, hearty chuckle passed between both of you, enamored with each other and the situation of being naked and intertwined together, the warmth of your matched confessions surrounding you.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged.

And Seokjin would be loath to deny you.

His teasing finger finally slid into your core, fucking into you with ease from your slick walls. You gasped at the welcome intrusion, eyes fluttering closed as he began a slight pace and watched the way you fell apart.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty.”

He slipped another finger in, scissoring them open as he worked at you. Your legs trembled, and it made the older man smirk.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So easily turned into a *gushing* puddle for me.”

You nodded pathetically, back arching as he added yet another finger and pressed at the spot inside you that had your mind spinning and thoughts erasing.

“Oh—God, Jin!”

As much as Jin wanted to see you get off around his fingers, he was desperate for more. You were finally all his—something he’s wanted since he could remember. All he’s wanted was for you to be his.

He pulled his fingers from inside you and smiled as they came out slicked up with your own essence. He ensured you made eye contact with him, then popped them into his mouth one-by-one, to suck them clean.

It made your mouth nearly fall to the floor as you watched him suck his fingers clean of you. Your body trembled with a need you hadn’t felt before. It was stronger than anything you’d felt before. It was unadulterated desire for Seokjin.

“Mm,” he sighed happily as he pulled the final digit from his mouth. “Delicious, as I thought.”

“Oh, my god,” you gaped. “Jin…,”

The man merely shook his head and smiled, crowding you down and hovering over your lips.

“You’re mine now, you got that?”

His eyes tracked yours, watching your every movement. It took you a moment to swallow your nerves, to regain any ounce of confidence.

“I’ve always been yours, Seokjin.”

He held you down, watching you with a gleam of wonder in his eye, before surging forward and planting his lips onto yours. His tongue dove in instantly, seeking solace in the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him passage was easy, almost natural. Jin’s tongue swirled around your own as your arms slithered around his neck to bring him closer. Kissing Jin felt like everything you’d imagine it would be, and yet like nothing you could have even dreamed.

Jin didn’t just kiss you—he consumed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough to you. His chest pressed against your body and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your perky breasts pushing into his own broad chest.

“Baby,” he whispered as he pulled away.

It sounded like a dream—the pet name fell from Jin’s lips so easily, as if it were always meant to be spoken to you.

“You’ve always been the one I wanted,” he breathed as he pressed his lips down your neck. “Always the girl I wanted and could never have.”

“Jin,” you gasped as your fingers carded through his hair. “Jin, you’ve always had me.”

He lifted his head and peered deep into your eyes again, so deep it felt like he was glimpsing into your soul.

“I only want you. No one else.”

It knocked you breathless, and it took a moment for you to refill your lungs before nodding.

“I’m all yours.”

There was acknowledgement in both your admissions. An understanding that there was no more separation of you, and of Jin. That after tonight, it would be a partnership, and the beginnings of something more, something you’ve only dreamt of with the older man.

“Mine,” he whispered, before pressing his lips back to yours.

The kiss was sweet, nearly cloyingly sweet, as his hands cupped your face. He kissed you with every intention, every desperate plea he’s held in his heart for you.

Jin’s length pressed against you—his hips rutting minutely as he kissed you.

“Jin,” you gasped as you pulled away from his lip locked embrace. “Please, I need you.”

Jin’s charming smile spread across his lips, blooming your heart along with it.

“As you wish,” he whispered as he pressed in for another soft kiss..

Instantly, Jin flipped around and switched positions, guiding you to sit atop his hips while he settled down into the mess of blankets and pillows.

“What?” He asked as he noticed your confusion at the sudden mood change, a smirk rising on his puffy lips. “You think I’m gonna let you lay back and make me do all the work?”

There he was, your Seokjin. Never able to keep a comment to himself, regardless of the situation—always working to make you laugh. It made your heart sing.

His hands slid to grip at your hips while you lifted yourself up to hover over his hardened length, lining up the tip to just graze the wetness there.

“You see what you do to me?” You asked with a coy smile. “You see how badly I want you?”

Jin bit his lip, mesmerized by the way your cunt slicked up the head of his cock, desperate to spear into you but holding back.

“Fuck—,” he breathed. “P-Prove it.”

A smirk crossed your features before you took the plunge and allowed his length to slip inside you as you sank to his hips. The intrusion was welcome, and you gaped at the sensation of him plunging deep.

“Oh, my God!” Jin gasped as you had taken him to the hilt. His eyes bulged for a moment before they closed in bliss. “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t need to speak. The feeling of Jin’s thick length inside of you was more than enough agreement. He felt so thick, so long, prodding at the spot inside you that had you weak and stretching you wide to make you gasp at the sizzle of pain. After a moment of adjusting to his size, you let your hands fall to his chest as you began to slowly rise and fall and set a pace on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he whined—eyes wide open and watching you bounce on him. “Shit, this is where you belong.”

You eagerly pinched at your nipples as your pace quickened, nodding at Jin’s encouraging words. Your mouth felt dry, and you felt unable to even vocalize your pleasure beyond your loud sighs and moans.

“Jin,” you breathed.

He nodded, assisting your pace by gripping your hips. He tugged you down, face to face, to rest on his chest while your hips kept their quick speed of enveloping his cock in your tight heat. He let a hand cup the side of your face, the other moving to grip your ass.

“You’re all fucking mine,” he grunted as he thrusted his cock up into you, matching the rhythm of your rise and fall. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good every day, baby.”

You nodded quickly, heartbeat rising as you quickened each pound. Jin’s lips pressed to yours again, this time messier, hotter. He licked into your mouth, desperate for any more of you he could consume.

“Fuck, you drive me fucking crazy,” he said, cock still thrusting deep inside you. “Let me fuck you from behind?”

You didn’t bother replying, simply removing yourself from his body and assuming the position on your hands and knees. Jin scrambled to line up behind you, hand pumping his slick cock as he marveled at the sight of you presented for him.

“Take me, please,” you whispered, turning your head to peer at him with a desperate smile. “Fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Jin hissed an expletive, before lining himself up in your sodden folds and plunging in without a second thought. Your eyes widened at the new angle, gasping as you felt it hit different areas inside of you that had you squeaking with each hard thrust of his cock.

Jin’s hands gripped your ass, your hips, anywhere he could leave his brutal fingerprints.

“God, you take my cock like a fucking queen,” he gasped as the sound of skin slapping echoed around the tent. “Look at your pussy, so fucking wet for me.”

He marveled at the way his cock plunged deep inside you, then came out covered in your creamy slick.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let me claim this pussy with my cum?”

The pleasure was overwhelming—it felt like every nerve ending was lit on fire, and you were a burning fuse about to detonate into a thousand brilliant explosions. Each thrust of Jin’s thickness had you crying for more, moans echoing off the trees outside. You were suddenly thankful you were in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to be loud and needy.

Jin reveled in your desperate sighs and the way your body pushed back against his to match his pace. He knew his end was coming, knew it was going to be short-lived from the start. He’s wanted your body for as long as he could remember, and wanted you in his life as his lover, his girlfriend, more than just what he had been relegated to for so long.

“Mm, baby, you look so good on your knees for me, fuck,” he gasped as his speed increased. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock every fucking day, love. This is my pussy now.”

Jin’s possession of your body made you see stars, vision blurring as your cunt tightened its grip around his cock. Jin gasped at the grip and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby, fuck. Cum for me, angel. Let me feel this tiny little cunt milk me.”

The coil inside you was tightening, pulling tight and making you gasp and scream at the oncoming rush. Jin’s pounding was relentless, making your entire body shake with the anticipation.

Your hand dipped to circle at your clit, the ultimate piece to your end.

The coil snapped, and your cunt pulsated wildly around his cock, vice-grip tight. It felt as if you had been catapulted off into space, vision blurring and all sound indiscernible from the blood rushing in your ears.

Jin’s climax quickly overtook him at the feeling of your delicious heat gripping at his cock. With just a few strokes inside you, his cock pulsed hot stripes of cum within you and painted your channel. Something primal in Seokjin loved that he was within you now, a piece of him deposited inside.

He allowed a few moments to pass to catch his breath, before slowly easing his spent cock from your dripping walls. He groaned as he watched a bit of his seed drip out, and he was careful to collect it on his fingers.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pressed his chest to your back and lifted you upright, sitting on your knees. He presented his fingers to your lips, dripping with your combined slick, and wrapped his free arm around your stomach.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed the man to swirl his cum-coated digits in your mouth. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies, the taste of you and the man you’ve only dreamt about for years now on your tongue.

A crack of thunder shook you from your silent reverie, and Jin removed his fingers from his mouth before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you down to lie face to face on the mused sleeping bags.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did this?” He asked with a chuckle and a kiss to your nose.

You wrinkled your brow and smiled coyly.

“I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn’t gotten us lost.”

Jin pouted and huffed.

“I didn’t get us lost,” he sniffed with indignation. “The map was wrong.”

#bts smut #kim seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #ficswithluv #kim seokjin smut #jin smut #bts fan fic #bts imagines #bts fic #bangtanarmynet

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corpsedaydream · 3 years

Note

I just like the concept of the reader going on and on about something and him with his head in his palms, total heart eyes "listing" to the one sided conversation

i think by some of the things i’ve written before we all know this is a trope i loooooooove lets do it

edit before posting: this has lowkey become one of my favourite things i’ve written on this account! omg i am rly proud of it and i hope u guys like it too 🥺🥺🥺 pls let me know what u think of it!

word count: 1.5k

_______________________________

carrots

so maybe you were a little bit of a picky eater. but you’d never be caught admitting to that, to yourself, or to anyone. when someone happened to bring it up, you would just say something along the lines of that, you were just peculiar about what you ate.

you still remember the first moment corpse had said something about it.

"you’re picky, aren’t you?” he’d asked and your eyes snapped up. he’d been watching and listening to you closely as your eyes scanned the menu. the first time he’d been witness to it. you had been babbling out loud about what sounded best to you, but then you would also mention things you would want to switch out and add in to make it even better. you were moreso talking to yourself, but corpse had been so zoned in on you. things between the both you were still so recent, he was still learning you and he liked to pay attention.

“i’m what?” you sounded offended. and corpse had to try really hard not to crack a smirk.

“you’re a little picky, right?” he also tried keeping his tone from becoming too teasing, yet.

“no.” your response was very quick, you were on the defence. and he couldn’t help but to smile then. he knew he was right.

“there’s nothing wrong if you are, i’m just wondering.”

“well stop wondering and figure out what you’re ordering and not worry about what i’m getting.” you were a little hangry at this point, too. another fact corpse had come to learn about you. if you didn’t eat when you announced you were hungry, it would only be a short amount of time until that hangry monster in you emerged.

“i already know what i’m getting.” he counteracted.

“well, good.”

“because i’m not picky.” he couldn’t help himself but to tease you.

“i’m not picky! i just like what i like.”

ever since then, whenever the two of you had found yourselves in a situation where it involved reading a menu, he loved to watch you do it. you always took a lot longer than corpse to order, but he never minded. each time, you studied it like you were studying for an important exam and you would mumble audibly, lost in a quiet conversation between you and yourself. and how he loved to listen in, like it was exclusive information and corpse was a fly on the wall. he had made a habit of deciding on his food very quickly so he could give you his full attention for these moments.

still to this day, you weren’t aware he did this. you would be so caught up in reading the menu, figuring out how you were going to satisfy your picky eating habits that you’d never looked up to find your boyfriend looking so lovingly at you.

he then, would even love to see how you interacted with the staff when you did finally make up your mind and were ready to order. you always spoke to everyone as if they were a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. you were like no one else, so warm, so bright, so inviting. in world where social interaction could be so awkward, you thrived instead. you’d smile and make jokes, you were a social butterfly. sometimes, though, he’d catch himself feeling slightly jealous if the person working was getting a little too caught up in your words and getting a little too lost in your eyes. your words were for him to get caught up in, a soundtrack he’d play over and over if he could. and your eyes were for him to peer into, for him to wonder if the brain inside your head was made of something different to make you this enchanting.

but then you’d always look back to corpse and you’d give him a smile that was reserved for only him. a smile that no one else was lucky enough to witness. it was a smile that was made out of the genuine love you felt only for him. one that said, it’s okay, i’m with you, i’m yours. and he’d feel better. how could he not when that sunshine you radiated made it’s way into him and made him feel brighter.

"what’d you decide on?” he always asked you this. even though he’d just heard your thoughts leading up to your final decision. but he still liked to hear you answer him at a normal level, when you were actually engaging in conversation with him and he wasn’t just overhearing your spoken thoughts with yourself.

he wasn’t often surprised when you told him of your order, because of how much he already had listened to you. but tonight you did say something that surprised him.

“it comes with cooked carrots, but i just won’t eat them.”

“you love carrots?” he questioned, because he thought he was so sure of this. it was often a snack you had some days during sometime in the mid afternoon to tie you over until dinner. and you wouldn’t just eat one either, you’d eat about three or four. in fact, there’d been multiple times he’d told you if you ate that many carrots you wouldn’t be hungry for dinner.

“i do, but only fresh.” you answered him. “i hate cooked carrots.”

“are they not the same-”

“no!” immediately you cut him off, and instantly he was entertained. he knew right away this was going to turn into you going off on a tangent. you often would get oh so passionate about topics that didn’t require any actual level of passion, but oh how he loved to sit and listen when your words ran off with your fire fuelled personality.

you continued on, “don’t even finish that sentence! they are not the same thing at all.”

corpse remained silent, instead, he moved to place his elbows on the top of the table to rest his head in his hand, to really show he was paying attention. this was for both you and him, he knew your love language was quality time and that meant you wanting undivided attention and for him, he was too excited to learn this new found information about you.

“first of all, i would like to know who was the first person who even decided to cook a carrot.” and so you began. “they’re literally perfect with how they are already.” you took a deep breath in and corpse had to fight off a laugh. “they’re the perfect amount of crunch, the perfect amount of fresh, the perfect shape to hold as you eat it, the perfect size to go in your mouth, it’s always satisfying to chomp through a carrot.” you were talking with your hands, lifting a finger each time you mentioned something you loved about carrots. then you paused, holding your hand up to signal you were going to continue after you took a quick sip of water.

apparently you really meant business about carrots. and as he watched you drink the water, he wondered how on earth could he have missed this breaking update that you didn’t like cooked carrots? he wondered why he hadn’t picked up on it during all of his time of watching you read through menus.

“like, who ate a carrot in its natural and best form and thought, this is so great, i love carrots, now i’m going to try and ruin it!”

“ruin it?”

“yes, ruin it, corpse!”

“i don’t think they intended to ruin it.”

“well they did! and for what?” you questioned out loud, but corpse knew it wasn’t for him to answer, you were questioning the universe. “what was the point of ruining carrots? a food that was already so perfect, it’s so dumb.”

for a second, he thought you might have finished right there, but you didn’t.

“and the fact that it gets cooked in so many different ways? like, stop! no one asked you to do that.” you huffed, and he smiled. you were talking about carrots of all things, but he was going to listen to every word you said. “like, find me one person who prefers cooked carrots over normal carrots? you can’t!”

“i bet i could.” corpse only said this to will you on further.

“no you couldn’t!” how easily you argued against his words and he did laugh that time, but you still weren’t finished talking about carrots. “and if you ever do, you better run for your life because that person would be a serial killer.”

he continued to laugh and you knew you were being overdramatic, but you had accepted a long time ago, that, that was a very definitive part of your personality. it was a part of you that corpse had come to adore when it came out like this.

“carrots are perfect, like, truly an ideal food. and i will never forgive whoever was the first person who ever cooked a carrot.”

“what if it was me?” he couldn’t help but to say, his tone a little teasing.

and there it was that again, that smile of yours. “maybe i’d consider, but it would be a hard battle to win me over.”

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #writing #mine #request #Anonymous #answered

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blushinggray · 3 years

Text

Free! The Final Stroke screeching/reaction (spoilers)

AHHHHH I JUST WATCHED THE FINAL STROKE MOVIE TODAY IN THEATERS ON PREMIER DAY AND IT WAS LAKSJDFOAIFJWOEI to summarize it all, it was Very Gay, which was to be expected but they DID NOT have to get so freaking extra with it 😩😩😩

much screaming and many spoilers ahead

FIRST OF ALL, KIRISHIMA NATSUYA: HE WAS SO FUCKING HANDSOME DAFKJOIEFJOSIDJF. SO HANDSOME. SO HANDSOME AND STUPID AND OVERLY FRIENDLY AS WE LOVE HIM TO BE ALKDSJFOAIEW.

he was in the film for a total of maybe 5 minutes altogether, which was kind of a lot bc the film kind of was just putting all the characters back in for the sake of putting them in imo? for the fans, lol. so everyone could see their faves. and in these five minutes that he appeared, our mans:

bragged about his little brother he's so proud of

got laughed at by nao for being natsuya (aka dumb and straightforward) as usual

trained with sousuke (he was hanging out in the same pool with him, nao, and makoto to train and aid in sousuke's rehab training)

got a call from ikuya after the international swimming competition in sydney!!!! in that same cafe he's always at!!!! and he was with nao at the time he got the call. casual and cool as always, being the cool big brother or whatever. he ended the call with a curt, "you got it. see you. don't catch a cold."

HE WAS HANGING OUT AT CAFE MARON WHILE THEY WAITED FOR THE SYDNEY COMPETITORS TO COME BACK TO JAPAN. HE WAS BEHIND THE COUNTER WITH ASAHI (WHO WAS HOLDING BABY TSUKIMI IN A CARRIER ON HIS CHEST!!!!!) AND HE THREW HIS ARM AROUND ASAHI AND WAS GETTING SO CLOSE LIKE ALKSDJFAOIEJAOEI. I have absolutely no clue what he was saying at the time bc i was too busy freaking out and trying to hold in the sounds bc the theater was so quiet. but his GODDAMN FACE. HE WAS SMIRKING. SO HANDSOME 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

and of fucking course, they were all out together at a restaurant when the sydney competitors came back, and he was like, "wth no one else is drinking alcohol tonight?" and nao was like "ofc not haha" AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

HE FUCKING FALLS ASLEEP AT THE TABLE AFTER DRINKING AND EVERYONE IS SURROUNDING HIM AND PATTING HIM LIKE "dude..." and ikuya is sitting there like, omg can't believe this mess is my brother....

i thought that just might be his last scene in the film but then we show back up to the kirishima household and natsuya is eating some sort of luxury holiday(?) bento and ikuya is like "aren't you gonna save any for me?" and natsuya's like "of course not. this is for me, you gotta wait until next year xD" and then ikuya just fucking SNATCHES up several different foods and stuffs his face with all of them and natsuya starts arguing with him over them laskjdfoawiefjao where was this brotherly affection all this time?????

and then cut to a few seconds later, natsuya's bumming in his room on the floor like in s3 when ikuya comes in and tells him about his new future goals and alskdjfaoei brothers sharing their ambitions together 😩😩 WHAT IS GOING ON. EVERYONE GETS ALONG SO WELL NOW???

NEXT: we'll go back to the beginning i guess lmfao but they're preparing for some sort of university festival

we start off with an easily misunderstandable shoujo-style situation where asahi is talking to ikuya like, "i know it's your first time... you don't have to be nervous. i know you can do it." and ikuya's like "no! i can't 😣" like the tsun he is backed up against the wall. and then it turns out they're trying to make a mille feuille cake.... but everything he's made so far looked like crepes

and for some damn reason, KISUMI comes outta nowhere into the kitchen and is like "ooooh what's this? a mille feuille cake? although they all look kinda like crepes haha ^^" and then ikuya RUNS THE FUCK OUT OF THE KITCHEN, yelling, "i told you i couldn't do it!!!" like the fucking tsun he is... and asahi is yelling at kisumi like "why did you just say that!!!" and starts rubbing his knuckles into kisumi's head and kisumi's just laughing like, "oh did i do that hehe"

and for some reason... seijuurou is working at the booth in his speedo and swim team jacket. i mean i'm not complaining but sir.... PLS TAKE MY MONEY AND GIVE ME YOUR FAT OCTOPUS BALLS. (he literally started a batter mixing competition with hoshikawa inside the booth, like what are they even doing in the same booth???)

then rin and sousuke show up to ikuya, asahi, and hiyori(?)'s booth, and they're offering them the crepes and then they get into a conversation about smth that leads into them showing the embarrassing photos they have of each other?????? like ikuya has a pic of rin in his maid costume for some reason??? (tho it isn't shown) and rin shows an embarrassing pic of ikuya he has in his phone that he got from natsuya???????????? and then ikuya starts chasing after rin yelling at him to delete it lasdkjfoaei

and then haru is off to the side selling ugly ass bird mascots again lmfao. bc ofc he is. love that weirdo

BUT THE REAL KICKER HERE IS KINJOU!!!!!!!!!!!

APPARENTLY, HIS VILLAIN BACKSTORY COMES FROM HIS CHILDHOOD CRUSH (/exaggerated) ON HIYORI ALSKDJFOAIE WHAAAT. apparently he was that annoying kid in the playground who would go up to hiyori and bother him bc he wanted a friend. bb hiyori was literally like "why are you even talking to me so much?" in his sandbox. and bb kinjou is like, "well there's gotta be smth you like, right? what is it?" and hiyori's like "well i feel kinda happy when i'm swimming... :)" as images of ikuya flash into his mind, that gay ass

BUT KINJOU'S GAY ASS EYES START SPARKLING TOO AND THEN HE'S LIKE "I GOTTA LEARN WHAT THE BIG DEAL ABOUT SWIMMING IS" and he runs home, begs his brother to take him to the pool. but next time he brings his swimming stuff with him to the playground, hiyori isn't there anymore and apparently he left for america at that time (or smth). so poor baby basically got ghosted

but hiyori still knows him when they're older!!!! kinjou shows up when they're throwing out the trash after the uni festival and calls out to hiyori to taught him (which is where that bullying preview scene came from i guess) and alkfjeoiaejoaifj omfg it's like that estranged childhood friends (sorta) trope but it'll never go kinjou's way bc hiyori is and will always be in love with ikuya 😔

kinjou would make such a good yandere tho!!!! he has a feral expression on a few times throughout the movie, and during a race he gets super competitive mid-race and... ngl he was kinda sexy 😳 i'm actually kind of surprised by how taken i was with him in this movie. doesn't help that he's unfairly handsome and his hair looks fucking amazing. i MAY OR MAY NOT be exploring this man in the future..................

i also found the ending with haru pretty interesting!!!! it kind of hints at neurodivergence? smth along the lines of disassociation or multiple personalities? (guess 50% off was kinda right on that end lmfao).

he gets obsessed with beating albert wahlander, which is the most fired up i've ever seen him (to the point of almost hurting himself) and then the shadow or whatever effect albert has on haru kind of just overtakes him and pushes haru out of his own body in a way... it doesn't make sense to describe it this way, i know, but haru is literally watching himself say hurtful things to his friends while being overtaken by this... albert obsessed persona?

it's so interesting to see haru being the one obsessing over someone instead of the other way around for once!!! at the end of the movie (after all the credits) haru says the same thing he once said at the beginning of season 1? about how "at age 5, you're a prodigy. at age 15, you're a genius. at age 20(?), you're average." and this is def gonna be explored/concluded in the second part of the final stroke movie so i'm excited for that!!!! april 2022 come at me!!!!

there were SOOOOO many other things going on, plot wise and fanservice wise, and ofc kyoto animation was fucking TOP TIER SHIT. all the water effects... there was a shot where haru was looking at his reflection in the water and they make a drop fall and spread and shake his reflection in the waves and it was lafkjsefoiaeja fucking glorious. the soundtrack was lovely too. there was a RADWIMPS-esque beginning song and a sexy ass electric guitar buildup for kinjou (which may or may not be contributing to my growing obsession with him...)

AHHHH!!!! it was so good and everyone was so cute and handsome and gay and funny. we literally see every single character we've met before in some way, shape, or form lmfao. i might just go back to the theater and watch it again on one of the upcoming holidays this week.... SO GOOD. SO GOOD.

I LOVE ALL THESE GAY SWIMMING BOYS SO MUCH 😩😩😩

#free!#free! the final stroke #misc

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

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The Next One Is Free

A PASSING THROUGH ONE SHOT POV REMIX

A/N: A long long time ago I posted an ask where for people to request befores, afters, or POV changes for any scene/ chapter of any of my stories, and @suchatinyinfinity (thanks Dani!) asked for the scene from Passing Through when Ryan and Reader meet from a different POV (which we get from Reader in the main story) and I am sorry it took me so long to get to because I had a blast writing it. It also goes along with the first prompt from this September prompt list- which I am going to try to utilize in some way shape or form through this month in an attempt to write daily. The goal for September is to empty my inbox and catch up on things I have been meaning to write so without further ado...

Request/ Prompt: Ryan & Reader’s first meeting- POV Remix // September Prompt Day 1- the smell of coffee

Word Count: 1k

It was a typical Tuesday morning shift at Caribou.

The bell above the door hadn’t stopped jingling for more than a few seconds at a time as customers came and went. The chiming sound was accompanied by the near constant clanking of ceramic mugs jumbling together in the dishwasher and the drip, drip, hiss of the coffee pots to create a sort of soundtrack for her to work to. With only one song. One long song on an endless loop.

Maggie stared through the steam of the espresso machine at the line of customers stretching out from the counter. Their number never dwindled to less than four no matter how quickly she filled cups or frothed foam. The fast pace could sometimes be exhausting, but it did help to make the time fly when she was consistently busy. Her eyes darted up to the clock mounted to the wall on the far side of the room, squinting to read the time as a man with broad shoulders stepped into the line. Ten thirty. One more hour to go. You can do this, Mags.

By then she had already had her slew of early regulars with their routine orders and friendly smiles, their “have a great day hun”s and their “see you tomorrow”s genuine even if they were also routine. The daily stream of half sleeping students stopping in for a pick me up en route to their 9 am class a few blocks over at the UC Denver campus had already come through too, Maggie recognizing a few of them as classmates from her night classes and making small talk about assignments or upcoming exams as she made their drinks. There was also a group of middle aged women who she could count on every other week to take up two tables in the corner while they discussed whatever it was their book club had read recently. Though it seemed like it would do the opposite, seeing certain faces, chatting with the same people, even if it was about the same thing every time, helped make a monotonous job less so.

Not all regulars were a welcome sight though, and she groaned as she recognized the broad shouldered man in the gray suit as the jerk who had made her new co-worker cry the previous week with his rude demeanor. Ugh. Not this guy again. It was undoubtedly him though, his voice cutting through the busy space as he spoke into the phone pressed to his ear with the same condescending tone he used to order his coffee. Letting out a sigh, Maggie capped the tiny cups she held and cashed out her current customer, mentally crossing her fingers in hopes that the jerk in the suit wouldn’t cause any problems. Please I just want my shift to end in peace. I have one more hour and then I’m free. I really just want it to go smoothly.

The next customer, it seemed, had heard that silent plea, the man ordering a small coffee with a kind smile. He dropped his change directly into the tip jar, thanking her in a slow southern drawl with a tip of his head. He wrapped his long, tattooed fingers around the cardboard cup she passed him and stepped aside, heading for the table where creamers and sweeteners were stocked.

Before she could even process the pleasant interaction though, the jerk was barking his order at her and she felt herself struggling to keep a customer service approved smile on her face. The effort wasn’t lost on the woman in line behind him, and she gave Maggie a sympathetic look. Luckily, the well dressed asshole didn’t have any complaints about his coffee this time, and since his order was simple he was out of her hair relatively quickly. Good. Now get out of here before-

But it was too late for him to leave without incident as dark brown liquid splashed onto his coat. Maggie saw it happening in slow motion, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was already helping a different set of customers when the nice but apparently clumsy woman who had just shot her a look of solidarity had spilled her beverage. And of course it had to be on him. Maggie watched helplessly as the woman tried to diffuse the situation before it became a shouting match, apologizing for the stain and offering to take care of his drycleaning. More than he deserves, but she’s trying.

He wasn’t having it though, and just when Maggie wondered if she needed to call for her manager, the kind man with warm eyes was back to intervene. Though he didn’t appear to know the woman, he stepped between her and the jerk and addressed the other man directly. He calmly but sternly repeated what the woman had offered, telling the man to either accept her apology and courtesy or move along. For half a second, Maggie wondered if the well-intentioned canvas and denim clad young man hadn’t made things worse by stepping in, but something in the combination of his tone and the way his calm eyes flashed dark and serious must have made the jerk think twice because he left, grumbling about taking his business to the coffeehouse over on Larimer. Oh. Please do.

Pressing a fully punched card with a hand-written “next one is free!” on the back into the hero of the morning’s callused palm, Maggie thanked him for ridding the shop of the undesirable customer and poured a fresh cup of coffee for the woman whose beverage the jerk had left wearing. Continuing to help the customers in line, Maggie kept one eye on the pair as they introduced themselves to one another, the woman thanking him again and both of them grinning over their steaming cups. Did I just witness one of those coffee shop meet cutes? Like in hallmark movies and fanfiction?

Laughing to herself, she watched the two of them leave the shop, the bell announcing their departure, and hoped for one more thing- I hope when he comes in for his free one… they come back together.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags please feel free to let me know or use the form at the top of my masterlist!

Tags: @something-tofightfor @suchatinyinfinity @malionnes @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre @alraedesigns @dearmarii @fific7 @obscurilicious @luminex3 @vetseras @blackbirddaredevil23 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @yespolkadotkitty

#passing through #POV remix #POV switch #ryan brenner #ryan brenner fanfiction #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x junebug #jackie and ryan fanfiction #ryan meets reader POV remix #introducing maggie the barista #the next one is free

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

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Ashens (Part 1)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2,214

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Author’s note: for clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past where it reads “Prologue”). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional.

This book is split into 3 Parts: "The Society", "The Capitol", and "The Agreement".

Soundtrack | Trailer | Moodboards | Full Masterpage

In a moment of weakness, you can’t help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless times.

But also where he’d touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed, and where you thought he had given you his.

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, and he was just twenty-one years old when his father had died. Consequently, he became an orphan.

Months before, his sister had been taken away from him while he was training at the same camp his father had trained at - Camp Lehigh. The day his father died was also the same day he had met her.

Her name was Daisy.

It was a magical fairytale. He was just outside the Cotton Club when she emerged from inside the Dusenberg J. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

She had a pearl and diamond bracelet on her left hand, and her other hand was wrapped up in a prestigious white glove.

Her gown had been sparkling and silver, hugging her body at just perfect places. It showed off her curves gracefully and it was obvious that she was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

And so they danced that night to The Way You Look Tonight after she had sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back and, as they danced, he took her breath away just like she had his.

Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her onto his bed.

That was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon be leaving her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her.

He wouldn’t know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room. Your right-hand closes and tightens again.

You didn’t think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless hate towards you.

Every dagger, in the form of a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes and with that expression that he always saved for you. You filled his eyes with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn’t pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was changing. And you were falling for pity; he had been through so much, he just needed to heal, you told yourself.

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn’t an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren’t his captivate nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn’t hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side.

He was your partner.

You weren’t forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you. You went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of and that you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you’d do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn’t a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering. You had to be fast.

There’s a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the Elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You’re unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn’t believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers aching and trembling as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck. It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn’t need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin, gray top reached your upper thighs. Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in our metal getaway box, felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn’t used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing, not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you, but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, making it harder to walk.

You look down at your feet, glad they were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you felt alive.

There was no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

Hydra’s Society.

Eligible only for the elite, the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done. What they had conquered. What they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed your faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He’s gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It’s cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn’t just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; heal. But you couldn’t, not anymore. After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of The Officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors; the hunt for you both. You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that’s the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn’t risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can’t let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He’s heartless. He’s... your chest grows tight.

No, no.

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky’s mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.

I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do, about you now.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes AU #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes dystopian #bucky x reader series #Ashens #Alandoflimbo #allandoflimbo #ashens part 1

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ambiguouspuzuma · 2 years

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Thank you to @sleepyowlwrites, @faelanvance and @dontjudgemeimawriter for your tags - it’s been wonderful to get to know you all a little bit better!

Rules: Tag 9 people you want to get to know better or catch up with.

Favourite colour: Purple! As bold and vibrant as possible.

Last song: Chemtrails over the Country Club. I’ve been listening to a lot of Lana del Rey and the Weeknd whilst working from home, together with film soundtracks and other soothing lullabies.

Currently reading: The Man Who Died Twice, which I received as a present like most people in the country. For less obvious answers: I’ve just finished catching up with all of the Rivers of London short stories, and I have also technically been revisiting The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle via reading it to my bedridden partner.

Last movie: Spider-Man 3, as part of the mandatory rewatch following a recent outing to the cinema. It’s exactly what you remember. If we’re talking first-time viewings, it’s probably If I Stay.

Sweet, savoury or spicy?: Savoury. I might as well lick a salt block for enrichment.

Currently working on: My detective novel Going Quietly. Progress has itself been going quietly over the past couple of months as I’ve focused on churning out the short pieces you’ll find in my /writing tag, but now I’m getting back into the swing of it and ready to crack the case wide open.

It’s about a guy who loses his voice and his life, and finds himself looking into an apparent suicide of a young man who also lost everything: with the help of a wisecracking young sidekick, he fights against the narrative that this death made sense, that the deceased had nothing left to live for, whilst coming to terms with his own depression.

Actually that sounds really heavy, but I promise there are lots of laughs and fun along the way!

I can see that lots of you have already been tagged, so I’m just going to throw a line out to my most recent or active visitors in case they want to introduce themselves (but no pressure if not!): @writersramble37 @tylandlannister @lillyjen @artbyeloquent @world-of-fire-and-flight @bloodandmonsters @mirror-of-too-many-books @auberginesareberries @arianod

#writeblr #tag games

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meow-bebe · 4 years

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October Blues

Pairing: Johnny Suh x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, kind of college au (not explicitly mentioned but its what i was thinking of while writing)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tonight’s Soundtrack: Pumpkin - The Regrettes

A/n: my first finished halloween request! for anon, “hi cosmo 😊 may i request 63 with johnny? agsjfhsklfjs he /is/ the tallest after all😭”. sorry this got a bit angsty at the end, i just have too much unrequited love ideas bouncing around in side my head. also, my nerdiness popped out so I apologise if you don't like doctor who. i know this probably wasnt what you were thinking of but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Oh, the joy of unexpected costume parties. Putting together a good costume could be a painstaking process for those that want to do it right, and apparently that process was not something that Mark Lee understood. Not that this was a spectacular revelation or anything, considering how last year he had shown up to his own party in an old red t-shirt with a bunch of lines sharpied on to vaguely resemble Spiderman’s suit. It had even been voted worse than Lucas’ costume, and he had shown up shirtless with what appeared to be an old bath towel chopped up and strung around his neck in a poor attempt at something along the lines of a neck ruff, and had the audacity to call himself a vampire. Not that most people stopped to question it, the sight of his bare chest was enough to make the majority of people who saw him drool. Unfortunately, you were one of the few that were focused enough on the costume contest (and winning it) to be offended by his lack of effort.

Though your costumes were known to be tedious but rewarding projects, often including quite a bit of planning and sewing, they were also known to be hastily finished at about five in the afternoon on October thirty-first. As a result, you had absolutely nothing to wear to Mark’s seemingly impromptu week-before-Halloween party. (Knowing Mark, it was also more than likely that he had forgotten to invite you until the last moment.) Which was an issue, because now you had nothing to wear.

With only one day to prepare, you thought you had done pretty well for yourself. Adorned in an ill-fitting brown trench coat you had managed to convince Johnny to let you borrow, a tie you just happened to have sitting around, and a navy blue collared shirt you may or may not have stolen from your roommate, you had managed to put together a somewhat accurate cosplay of the Doctor. You had been forced to make do with an old pair of converse that were so covered in paint it was barely noticeable that they were red and a regular pair of jeans, but overall you were pretty proud of your hastily put together costume.

Unfortunately, no one else was. Or at least no one knew who the Doctor was. You wouldn’t be surprised, Mark’s parties weren’t exactly known for their nerdy clientele. Which was probably why you didn’t particularly enjoy his Halloween parties. In fact, you had just about no idea why you were here tonight, other than it was Mark Lee and he was notoriously hard to say no to. Plus if absolutely no one got your costume, you could always find Johnny.

Johnny was Mark’s roommate, and definitely the more tolerable of the pair. You loved Mark, but hanging around him could get tiring after a while. Johnny was definitely quite the sociable person, and he could blend into any crowd which worked well for you. He was easy to talk to, and you shared some interests so there was always material for conversation, but he also never expected much out of you. You could sit in silence and be perfectly comfortable.

And, as it seemed no one that you had run into yet shared your love of sci fi, you had made your way outside to try and find Johnny. He wasn’t hard to locate, there was a fire going in the firepit in their pitiful excuse for a front yard, and as you had seen Mark attempting to start some vaguely halloween themed games surrounded by several of his slightly tipsy friends inside, Johnny was probably making sure no one caught themselves on fire.

Just as you predicted, there he was, his large figure easily spotted as you left the house, dodging around a couple of girls hanging out on the porch steps. Johnny was perched on the brick wall that ran down the street separating the sidewalk from the yards, the charred stick he always liked to use to poke things around when he was in charge of the fire next to him. The section of the grass beyond the sidewalk was unusually large, which had always made you wonder why the wall was there at all, as the yard could have just been sloped downwards, but it let them put the firepit out there so you let it slide.

“Hey John,” you greet, sitting down next to him and kicking your legs in front of you. Jaehyun stands in front of the fire to your left, a pair of cat ears perched on his head, and you offer him a small smile before looking back to Johnny.

He looks your outfit over, raising his eyebrows at the red and blue 3D glasses perched on your head. “Who are you dressed as again?”

You roll your eyes. “As I told you when I texted you to borrow the coat, I’m the Doctor. David Tennant’s Doctor, specifically.”

“I knew you were the Doctor,” Jaehyun pipes up. “The glasses add a nice touch.”

“Thank you Jae,” you say, elbowing Johnny. “See? I’m not totally unrecognizable.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a nerd too,” you roll your eyes again, and bump your shoulder against Johnny’s.

“Hey!” Jaehyun protests.

“Oh, don’t deny it.” You smirk before adding, “Nice ears by the way.”

Even in the fading light, you can see that Jaehyun’s ears (the non-cat ears anyway) flamed red, and he stuttered out something about how they were his sister’s and he didn’t have anything else. Seeing that you were still snickering at him, he rolled his eyes. “I’m heading inside. See you later.”

You and Johnny chorus your goodbyes, attention turning back to each other. He wasn’t wearing anything remarkable, which was odd because Mark had made it clear that a costume was required. “What are you supposed to be?” you question.

“I’m the tall dark handsome stranger your parents warned you about.” His eyes crinkle up into a smile as you snort and burst out laughing.

“You’re ridiculous is what you are.”

“It works on most people.”

You elbow him again. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not most people.”

The temperature had begun dropping for the night, and the wind had begun to pick up again. You shiver as the chill starts to seep into your bones, tugging your coat tighter around your body and laying your head on Johnny’s shoulder, hoping to absorb a bit of warmth from him.

Johnny stiffens just the tiniest bit, so little that you don’t even notice. He can’t quite think to realise you might find that reaction a bit odd, not with the way that you have your head laid up against him, and how if you were to lean up just a smidge you could easily press a sweet kiss against his throat. And, oh, how he wishes you would. But he knows that to you, he’s just John. You know him through a mutual friend, and you’ve never hung out with him outside the times you drift to the edge of your friend group, feeling as though they’re too noisy for you.

Maybe it’s just the wistfulness that comes with October nights, the feeling that summer has really truly faded away for the colder months to take their hold, but tonight Johnny can feel those little pricks of pain that loving someone who barely looks in your direction causes a bit more than usual. Sure, maybe he is the one that you’re all cuddled up against, and perhaps his mind is just playing cruel tricks, but he could swear he catches your eyes repeatedly flicking over towards one of the several people crowded on the porch. You had been talking to one of the girls standing there inside earlier, and even though Johnny has always known that he would never be yours, it still hurts to consider you having eyes for someone else.

He had come to terms with his one sided love a while ago, but for some reason tonight everything that he had been trying his best to keep down was hitting a lot harder than usual. Perhaps it was something about Halloween, after all Johnny knew it was your favorite holiday. Yes, that was probably it.

“John?” your voice interrupts his thoughts and he looks down at you, head still resting on his shoulder, wrapped up in his coat. “What’re you thinking about? You spaced out for a second there.”

Johnny huffs out a little laugh, staring across the street to watch the leaves tumble down from his neighbor’s tree, the streetlamp four houses down illuminating them in an eerie but strangely comforting way.

“Oh, nothing….” he says, just a little hint of the longing that filled his heart bleeding through to his words.

@kpopscape

#kpopscape #johnny x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny seo x reader #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny fanfic #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines

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nightingiall · 4 years

Text

things i love about you: you make lovin’ fun

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

Niall was, in a word, exhausted.

For some reason, despite the many cups of coffee he’d consumed, he still felt himself nodding away at his desk, unable to keep his eyes open. The words on his screen were so blurry that he kept rubbing at his eyelids, as though attempting to scrub the drowsiness away would help.

He felt like he’d been behind at everything lately. He was always writing an article down to the last minute, barely making a deadline before he was assigned a new story. Eventually, he’d had no choice but to take his job home, often working on a story well into midnight, only making it to bed after his girlfriend basically had to drag him there. Even then, he couldn’t sleep, mind constantly buzzing with words and synonyms and phrases he could use to replace something in an article. It was like he was buried under a pile of work all the time.

“Here,” someone was saying to him, and he pulled his hands away from his eyes—apparently, he’d been rubbing at them again—to find his co-worker Duncan sliding a cuppa onto his desk. “You look like you need this. And if you have more coffee I’m afraid your heart’ll give out.” After tossing some sugar packets and a wooden stirrer onto the desk, he smiled, flashing that famous gap-toothed grin that Niall had seen woo many ladies at various evenings spent in multiple Manhattan bars. “And how will I explain that to your girlfriend.”

Niall rolled his eyes, laughing along nonetheless as he ripped open a sugar packet and dumped it into the hot beverage. “Thanks, mate.” Working with Duncan, a fellow Irishman, was something Niall didn’t expect to enjoy as much as he did. Always laughing and joking, he could be counted on to lighten the mood. He was also whip smart and was basically like Niall’s human thesaurus, something Niall never forgot to thank him for. Besides, the rest of his friends loved him, which he took as a good sign for keeping him around.

Duncan settled into his chair at the neighboring cubicle. “Need help with anything?”

A scoff pushed through Niall’s lips as he mindlessly stirred at his cuppa. “A fuckin’ break would be nice.”

This made Duncan laugh. “Tell me about it.” They had been absolutely swamped for the past few weeks, and if the darkness beneath their eyes were any indication, work had clearly taken a toll on them. “Why don’t you take a vacation, mate? You didn’t go anywhere this summer.” Duncan stretched back into his chair, his spine giving a rather satisfying crack. “Take the missus out to a beach somewhere or something. Might do you some good.”

Niall smiled softly at this, reclining back in his chair as well. It was not lost on him that this topic had come up several times over the past few weeks. “Yeah, we were talking about going somewhere but never finalized any plans.” The tea slinked down his throat as he took a sip, filling him with warmth and a newfound focus. Perhaps they should just take off and go somewhere for a week. He needed some sun and some quality time with his Mona. Preferably soon too. He felt himself slowly starting to go crazy, just sitting there at his desk. “Any suggestions?”

Duncan hummed, pressing the tip of his eraser to the corner of his lip. “Anywhere in the Caribbean is always nice. My mam’s from Barbados and it’s always quiet down there around this time.” He took a sip of his own drink before lighting up with another idea. “Oh, Hawaii in the off-season is great too. No big crowds, good prices, fantastic food.”

Pristine beaches, warm saltwater air, and a room that overlooked it all sounded like a phenomenal idea to Niall. Most of all, he wouldn’t have to share his time with anyone else except for Mona. Not with work, not with clients, not with friends or colleagues, even though he very much enjoyed every one of them. For now, though, he just wanted uninterrupted relaxation time with the person he loved most.

He and Duncan talked about Hawaii for the rest of their shift. While sorting through emails and drafting up an article, he quizzed Duncan on the most ideal resorts and sights for a quiet and peaceful but still fun trip. By the time the day was over, he had a rough draft, which he sent over to his editor, and some semblance of a vacation idea he can talk to Mona about when he got home.

It was all he thought about on his commute. New York may have been teeming with gorgeous fall colors, but somewhere warm sounded so nice. And he’d like to not have to worry about waking up early to take the subway or meeting deadlines at work. He needed a break from it all. They both did.

He was just twisting his key into the lock when he remembered that it was Thursday. Mona’s Mimi day, as she liked to say. Her therapy sessions often left her in unpredictable moods. Lately, she’d been having more rough sessions than good ones, and he often came home to find her curled up either on the couch or in bed—whichever she could drag herself to first—her head buried into a pillow and eyes clenched shut.

He usually tried to pick up some flowers or her favorite sweets from the Indian grocery store on her Mimi days, just to cheer her up, but he’d totally forgotten today. A frustrated huff worked out of him as the realization dawned, and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes at how terrible a boyfriend he’d been lately.

After all, the only reason they hadn’t actually gone on a trip yet was because he was too busy at work. Most days, he’d get home late, and even then he’d work until late into the night, unable to find it in himself to unwind and leave his job where it belonged, at the office. By the time he was ready to crawl into bed, it would be midnight and Mona would be fast asleep. He was honestly just lucky that she’d still indulge him with a cuddle, despite being deep into her dreamland.

To his surprise, and relief, when he swung the front door open, he was met with the soft twinkle of Mona’s laughter, his most favorite sound in the universe. She was perched on the couch, cross-legged with a bowl of pistachios on a pillow on her lap, the shells tossed into a smaller bowl beside her. Something on the telly was making her laugh so hard that she reached up to swipe a stray tear from her lashline with her sleeve. The mere sight of her, dressed in his jumper, her hair freshly washed and draping over her shoulders in soft, slightly damp waves, filled him with such a surge of affection that all he wanted was to curl right into her, on the couch, and not have to move for the rest of the night.

“What’re you laughing so hard about?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and rounded the corner of the couch, stopping behind her to press his lips to the top of her head. She looked up at him, mid-giggle, and he pressed another kiss to her nose too because he couldn’t help it. He loved her like this, big, fluffy hair and flushed cheeks and a huge, wonderful smile that never failed to have his knees go impossibly weak.

“Worst Cooks.” She gestured to the TV, which Niall noticed was, of course, turned to the Food Network. “How have we never watched this show before? I never thought anyone except for Harlow could burn water but there’s a whole world of terrible cooks out there!” Sure enough, just as he looked up, a woman had somehow managed to flip her burger while simultaneously getting it to catch on fire. Mona cackled gleefully at the sight. He couldn’t help but laugh along with her, completely enamored.

After putting away his bag, hopping in the shower, and changing into clean clothes—he didn’t like staying in his dirty work clothes, especially after his subway commute—he felt much more relaxed and ready to curl into the warmth of his wonderful girl, who was still lounging about on the couch, laughing at the kitchen mishaps on the TV.

Taking the bowls of pistachios and shells from her lap and placing it on the coffee table, he stretched out on the couch beside her, head resting comfortably on the pillow on her lap. Her hair was fully dried now, and as she brushed the strands behind her ear, he caught a whiff of peppermint. It was only the beginning of October but she’d whipped out her favorite holiday shampoo anyway. It was his favorite too.

She smiled so sweetly down at him that he had to close his eyes, otherwise he was sure his heart might burst. “How do you feel about pizza for dinner?” she asked, trailing a finger down the bridge of his nose. She was so soft and so warm, her arms wrapped around him, consuming him with that peppermint scent, and Niall wanted her to just hold him like this forever.

“Whatever you want.” He breathed out a laugh when she let out a soft cheer, reaching for her phone to order. It was the second time this week that she’d asked but he didn’t care. She could ask for the stars and he’d find a way to give it to her.

When she was done, she tossed her phone to the other end of the couch, returning her attention to him. The TV was a quiet soundtrack to their evening but Niall felt like he couldn’t even hear it. He was too lost in the way she smiled at him, the way those big brown eyes glittered. It didn’t matter that he was dead tired and worn out; whenever he was all wrapped up in her, everything always fell into place.

Mona skimmed her knuckles over his cheeks, her fingers cool on his warm skin. “Everything okay?” she asked, voice a hushed whisper. When he opened his eyes, her smile was softer now, more subdued. He hummed in answer, nuzzling into the hand caressing his jawline. She simply sighed at him, fingers now gently trailing against the skin below his eyes. “You work too much. You look so tired.”

Her lips pressed kisses to his closed eyelids, the tip of his nose, the hinge of his jaw. Soft and feather light. It filled him with immeasurable joy. “’M fine,” he murmured, even though he knew she could see right through him. It was as though he could feel her eye roll when she scoffed, and he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. She pressed her cheek to his forehead when she was done with her little butterfly kisses and he sighed contentedly, so comfortable that he could just fall asleep right there. “How was your Mimi day?”

Her fingers were twirling into the hairs at the nape of his neck now. “Fine. We talked about love languages, which I hadn’t heard of before.” She started to shift away from him but he stopped her with a quick tug on her wrists. It was too comfortable; he didn’t want her to move. “I was trying to figure out what yours might be but I couldn’t. Do you know what it is?”

Niall smiled because he did know. He had always known. It was her, spending time with her, lounging around like this or going out on dates or cooking a meal or curling into one another in bed. Anything with her. Everything with her. They could be doing absolutely nothing, just sitting there listening to each other breathe, and it was just enough for him. Simply being by her side made him happy. Nothing else could compare. “I think if would satisfy you more if you figured it out yourself.”

Mona sighed, pursing her lips against his forehead. “I think you’re right.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. He relished in the warmth of her as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He could have fallen asleep like that, just lying in her lap, taking her in. Then he remembered. “Hey, Mo?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go to Hawaii.”

She sat up then, brows raised at him. “Hawaii?”

He grinned up at her. Just talking about it made him excited. Beaches and beers and tropical sights and Mona. It sounded like a damn great time to him. “We need a vacation. We keep talking about it but never actually go anywhere. What are we waiting for?”

She was grinning too, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Well, when do you want to go?”

He shrugged. “Soon, please.”

And so, the rest of the night was spent with pizza, some wine, and their laptops, sending in their vacation requests to their jobs as well as booking everything they needed, like flights and a hotel.

All Niall could think of was one thing: Hawaii, here we come.

~ “I told you to wear sunscreen.”

Niall huffed at this. He was currently slumped against the pillows of the biggest bed he’d ever seen in his life, watching as Mona got ready for their dinner plans tonight. She was fussing with her hair while simultaneously scolding him about his bad skincare habits. It wasn’t his fault, really. After all, he wasn’t used to applying sunscreen when it wasn’t the summer months, and how was he to know that their afternoon hike would cause a bad sunburn on his nose? “You’re being mean.”

It took a great deal of effort to hold back a laugh at the way she glared at him. “It’s not my fault you don’t listen.”

This time, a chuckle inadvertently escaped him. She wasn’t wrong after all. “Darlin’.” He crawled off the bed, hands finding her hips and smiling at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She was still trying to decide whether to leave her hair down or pin it up. “You look stunning as always and your hair looks fine. Now can we go get dinner? I’m starving.” This earned him one of her signature eye rolls and a flick to his sunburnt nose. “Ow!”

Mona simply grinned at him, turning around to pull him close and press a light peck to the stinging area. “You’re so annoying.”

“I can’t help it,” he breathed into her skin, all thoughts of dinner suddenly evaporating from his mind as he skimmed his hands down her spine. “You’re so cute.”

“Ugh,” she huffed out, but laughed nonetheless, lightly shoving him away. “Let’s go.”

Niall laced their fingers together as they walked over to the restaurant. He didn’t know why they had never done this before, splurged on an actual vacation, because this was quite possibly the best idea ever. Their flight into the Big Island had been long so they hadn’t done anything on the first night, but yesterday they had gotten a couple’s massage before lazing about in the hot tub, and today they rented a car to drive around before taking an impromptu hike to indulge in picturesque views of the island.

Now, with Mona’s hand in his, the night air warm and inviting around them, palm trees and flower bushes lining the walkway, he felt a bit like he’d fallen in love with her all over again. It was like he was twenty-one again, holed up in a winter cabin with his friends, completely entranced by this girl with dark hair and soulful eyes and a killer sense of humor. Except this time, she actually loved him back.

There was a moment today, when they had hiked up the mountain and were greeted with the mesmerizing views of the entire coastline, she had turned around and laughed, big brown eyes glittering in the sunlight, skin shining with the slight sweat she’d worked up on the climb, and he almost did it. He almost dropped to one knee right there, fingers already reaching for the ring in his pocket. Somehow, the words got a bit lost in his throat though, and it never happened. It was a perfect moment; she pulled him in and pressed the most reverent kiss to his lips, murmured that she loved him before smiling that sweet smile at him.

It was a perfect moment, yes, but something told him it wasn’t the right one.

“It’s so warm here,” Mona mused as they settled at their reserved table. They’d chosen a spot outdoors so they could eat with a view of the ocean. The sky was swirling with the colors of dusk, the sun already nestled beneath the horizon. Mona was smiling at him, pinks and oranges painting the sky behind her, waves crashing into the sand in the distance, and all he wanted was the ability to freeze this moment so he could hold onto it forever. “What if we just packed up and moved to an island? Left everything behind and lived the rest of our lives in…” It took her a moment to find the word she wanted, eyes glazed over as she mulled it over. Niall simply admired her, cheek resting in his hand as he leaned against the table. Her eyes absolutely lit up when it came to her. “Paradise,” she proclaimed dreamily.

Niall grinned, imagining them as island dwellers with their own little home in a tropical oasis. “What about all our friends?”

She shrugged, reaching for some chips on the platter between them. He hadn’t even realized when the waiter had placed it there. “We could write them letters.”

At this, he laughed, leaning back into his chair again. “You’d really just leave everyone behind?”

She tutted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, why not. I’d have you.” She was popping another chip into her mouth when her eyes were lighting up again. “Ooh, you know what we can do? We can get a puppy.”

“A puppy?”

“Yeah!” At this point, the chips were halfway finished. She seemed to notice this and offered him some, and he opened his mouth so she’d feed it to him. “We’re not having kids any time soon so in the meantime we can at least get a puppy.”

Niall was about to respond when the waiter arrived, asking if they were ready to order. Once they’d decided on what they wanted, the waiter left and Mona excused herself to the bathroom. As he watched her go, his fingers trailed absentmindedly against his pocket, tracing the outline of the ring inside.

He reached in for it, rolling it in his hands for a moment. For months, he’d been carrying it everywhere. At first, he figured he’d plan something nice; a date night, perhaps, and he’d surprise her with the ring. But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized he had no idea where to pop the question. The ideas were endless: at a picnic in Central Park, at the top of Empire State, at the botanical gardens, or maybe even in their damn living room. So he figured that if he just carried the ring with him everywhere, once the perfect moment arose, he’d be ready.

But every time he thought it was the right time, something happened. They were either being interrupted or there were too many tourists around or the words simply got trapped in his throat. It felt a bit like he was trying to tell her he loved her for the first time all over again.

The ring glinted in the candlelight. Mona’s mom, Raina, had given it to him last year when they visited her in San Francisco. She had waited until Mona had left the room before she pressed the box into his hands. “I was going to give this to Nick,” she had said, “but it feels more right giving it to you. It’s the same one their dad gave to me.” Niall had simply looked down at the box in utter shock. Raina closed his fingers around it and smiled. “Think of it as my blessing to you both. And I know Mona will really love having something of her dad’s.”

Niall thought of that moment every day. He sometimes just sat back with this ring, rolling it between his fingers, and wondered how Raina even considered him worthy enough for this. Perhaps it was why he was having a hard time figuring out the perfect moment. It was too important. This ring meant so much.

He was just sliding it back into his pocket when Mona returned. She smiled, asking how he wanted to spend the day tomorrow, but all Niall could think about now was whether Hawaii was the place to finally ask her to be his wife.

As their food arrived, she mentioned something about snorkeling or deep-sea diving. Niall wasn’t sure. He was too engrossed in how she glowed. The sun had splashed a bit more color onto her skin, and she shined as bright as the moon that was now visible in the darkened sky. She threw out another idea of swimming with dolphins and Niall told her they could do whatever she wanted. He’d follow her anywhere, no questions asked.

She settled on the dolphin idea, happily chattering away about making reservations in the morning and that they could even go to the luau on the beach on their last night. They’d have to do some shopping for their loved ones, of course, but they’d find time to do that somewhere in between.

When they were sufficiently stuffed with great food and even greater desserts, they took the long way back to their villa, hands interlaced as they strolled down the beach, the waves splashing up against their ankles. The ocean was surprisingly warm. With the salt and humidity swirling in the air, Mona’s hair had gone even bigger and fluffier than usual. She was laughing at something he’d said, head tossed back, strands of hair fluttering in the slight breeze, and his fingers instinctively found the outline of the ring in his pocket again.

Her eyes twinkled at him and he stopped himself. Not here, something in him said. It was dark and he had a sudden vision of accidentally dropping the ring into the water. The thought wedged a quick twist of anxiety in his chest and he inadvertently squeezed Mona’s hand.

“You okay?” she asked, brows quirked in amusement. She stopped walking to pull him into her, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. The stars seemingly reflected in her eyes as she smiled softly up at him. He briefly wondered if it was ever possible for this to get old, because they were nearing four years together and every time she looked at him like that he still melted inside. “You’re kinda quiet tonight.”

He dropped his shoes to drape his arms over her shoulders, holding her close. Sand in his toes, salt in his hair, and a whole lot of love in his heart. He was on cloud nine. “Just taking it all in, I suppose.”

She huffed out a laugh that gusted over his skin and he pressed his forehead to hers. They stayed like that for a few moments, taking each other in, swaying gently to the sound of the waves lightly lapping up against the shore. When she spoke again, her voice was a delicate murmur against his lips. “Thank you.”

Niall’s arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer, nose nuzzling against hers. “For what?”

He felt her smile against his skin. It sent a surge of warmth rushing down his spine. “You choose me every day. Even when you don’t have to. Even when you probably shouldn’t.” She held him so tightly it was as though she was attempting to keep him from floating away with the waves. “So, thank you.”

To any other person, this would have sounded nonsensical. But he immediately thought back to their conversation on the couch all those days ago, when she talked about Mimi telling her about love languages. He smiled. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. “Yeah.”

He pulled back to press his hands to her face, the curve of her jaw nestling perfectly into his palms. The tiniest bit of moisture had collected over her lashes and he swiped it away with his thumbs. “Of course I choose you.” Sometimes he held her like this and she looked at him like she couldn’t believe it, like this was all just a dream, and he had to gently remind her that he did indeed love her. More than anything in the world. “You’re the other half of me.”

This seemed to work for now. She smiled softly at him, pressing her lips to his in a tender kiss before grabbing their shoes in the sand and tugging him back to their villa. They’d barely gotten there and he could hardly keep his hands off her, trailing fingers against her sunkissed skin, lips finding her sweet spots, the pulse on her neck, the space between her collarbones.

She’d only just gotten the door closed behind them when his lips finally met hers, kissing her slowly, languidly. They had all night and the rest of the week for themselves. “’M gonna take my time with you tonight,” he murmured into her mouth. She hummed, breath hitching when his fingers gripped her thighs beneath her dress, hoisting her onto the bed.

“Yes, please,” she breathed, blindly undoing the buttons of his shirt as he peppered kisses over the soft skin of her shoulders, making quick work of the zipper at the back of her dress and pushing her straps away.

After all, he didn’t need to be told twice.

Mona missed a few strands when she’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun. Niall busied himself with brushing them away to make room for his lips, grinning to himself as her skin rippled with goosebumps at the feather light touch of his fingers, shoulders giving a slight shudder. She sighed quietly as he pressed slow, lazy rows of kisses from the nape of her neck to the edge of her shoulders, his arms wrapped loosely around her middle, holding her close.

She was reclining back against him as they relaxed in the lounger on their private lanai, both of them dressed in nothing but the soft sheets from the bed. The lanai overlooked the ocean and was a perfect spot to watch the sunrise, which Mona had dragged him out of bed for, insistent upon watching the sky transition from dark blue to swashes of reds and yellows. He didn’t mind, really. Not when he could snuggle her close like this.

She gasped softly, gripping his wrist as she jutted her chin towards the horizon. “It’s happening,” she breathed, eyes lighting up brighter than any sunrise. Still, he followed her gaze, the sun just barely peeking over the sea in an arc of deep orange. Mona shifted so she could rest her head on his chest, wrapping both her arms around him, and they silently enjoyed the sight of the sun slowly slinking up the sky, bathing them in a warm golden glow.

When it had gotten too bright to look at anymore, Niall shifted his gaze to his wonderful Mona darling only to find a serene expression on her face, lips quirked up into a soft smile. He ran his fingers down her spine just to feel that sharp intake of breath again. “You thinkin’ about moving to a remote island again?” he teased.

A giggle bubbled through her lips. “No.” She looked up, head resting on his shoulder, and he held her close. “I was thinking about that time we went to Vegas. After Deepa’s wedding. And,” she started to laugh, “Harlow schemed her way into getting us that honeymoon suite.”

Niall laughed at this too, remembering. It seemed like yesterday, even though it was a few years ago. “That was a fun weekend. Even if we weren’t really together yet.”

She hummed, fingers tracing abstract shapes into his side. “I already knew how I felt about you though.”

This surprised him. “Really?”

Her smile grew. “Mhmm.”

“Huh.” He quirked a brow, looking off into the horizon for a moment, processing this. He had always thought she didn’t see herself with him romantically back then. “So, when did you actually realize?”

She shrugged, a hand finding his, pressing them together. They both had long, nimble fingers, but her hands were smaller. Niall liked how they slotted together with ease. “The cabin. You kissed me under the mistletoe and then you dragged me up that stupid hill in the cold.” They shared a laugh. Mona’s eyes had glazed over in memory, voice soft and reverent. “You made hot chocolate with whiskey in it. It was a full moon and the stars were out and you said we don’t get that kind of view in the city. And you smiled. And it hit me that I’d been in love with you that whole time and I never even realized it until then.”

Niall laughed in a bit of disbelief, mostly because he remembered the moment well. She was laughing at something he said until a sort of struck expression came over her and she swore under her breath. If he had known then what it all meant then he’d have told her how he felt right there. It didn’t matter much now considering she was currently in his arms, but perhaps they could have been together sooner.

“When did you know?” she asked.

Niall smiled wryly at her. “The cabin.” She tutted and he realized she didn’t know what he meant. “The first time at the cabin.”

She stilled for a moment, seemingly turning his words over in her head. It was as though he could feel the gears working. Then, she sat up abruptly, looking at him in shock. “Shut up. There’s no way.”

He grinned, highly amused by this. He loved her the whole time and she never even knew. “It’s true, darlin’.”

This earned him a scoff and a frown. “Nuh uh. You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” he got out through a laugh.

A deep breath worked through her as she thought this over, deflating slightly. “I never knew,” she mused, clearly still in shock.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “you were always kind of oblivious.” Then he thought of the fact that he’d been carrying around a damn engagement ring for a whole year and she was none the wiser. “You still are, to be honest.”

She swatted a hand against his chest, a stunned sort of giggle escaping her. “Shut up.” Still, it wasn’t long until she was curling into him again, pressing her cheek to his shoulder with a sigh. “All that time…you never said anything.”

The breeze was beginning to pick up. It swirled around them, their little sanctuary of love, and flicked her stray hairs into her face. He brushed the strands back into the knot on her head, pressing a gentle touch of his lips to her nose. “Darlin’. You would have freaked out if I told you before you were ready.”

She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at this assessment of her. “I hate that you’re right.” Their laughter trickled into the air, echoing slightly around them. Mona shifted until she was straddling his lap, her arms draped over his shoulders as her lips turned up into that beautiful smile. Niall leaned back to catch the full view of it. “Doesn’t matter,” she murmured, tracing a finger over his eyebrows before delicately smoothing back his hair. “I think we turned out alright.”

He felt a surge in his chest then. This was it, a perfect moment. She was all wrapped up in him, soft and warm, messy hair and no makeup. Her cheeks were flushed slightly, from the sun and the fact that she couldn’t stop laughing. He was so enraptured by his love for her, laying back and taking her in. He could ask her right now.

But, for once, he didn’t have the ring on him. It was still in the pocket of his jeans, folded over the top of his suitcase, and to go get it he’d have to let go of her; he’d have to break the moment.

So he didn’t ask. Not now. Not yet. He wanted to hold onto her for the rest of the morning, wanted to savor that smile and the soft kisses she was currently pressing to every inch of skin she could find.

It didn’t matter. They had all the time in the world. And besides, she’d given him an idea. Another perfect moment. He’d just have to wait for it to come around.

For now, he pulled her face towards his and kissed her with his whole heart. She was here. She was his. The beach beyond was calling their names.

He was happy and nothing else mattered.

thanks for reading! here’s some bonus instagram content:

#the way i have probably updated this story more in a year than i ever updated ldyk in a year is hilarious to me #i can't help it i just can't get them out of my head :/#anyway #here's another slightly long drabble #enjoy!!#things i love about you #1dff #writings #niall horan fanfiction

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

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Taking Care

Steggy Week 2k20, day 2 Prompt: Tropes, cliches, and symbols

Summary: Peggy gets sick. Steve shows up to help.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

Peggy’s immune system is notably strong and she’s far more likely to be the one nursing others than to need nursing herself. But this means that when she actually does start feeling under the weather, she ignores it, certain that it will simply pass or that she can overcome it by sheer force of will.

She’s actually able to pull it off for a few days, but once her eyes start watering so much that it takes her three times as long as usual to read anything and her coughs and sniffles become the soundtrack of headquarters, Phillips tells her that the war isn’t going to be lost if she takes a few days off to get well and sends her home.

“Perhaps I am a bit under the weather, but I can still—” she begins in protest but when she needs to take out her handkerchief partway through the sentence, Phillips simply points her toward the door and she actually complies.

She manages to fall asleep for several hours before waking jerkily, somehow less rested, her head muddled. The thought of food appeals not at all, but she is absolutely parched; she lies for much longer than she would ever admit trying to convince her body to stand and go to the tap.

Tea sounds absolutely wonderful at the moment but she can’t guarantee that she won’t fall asleep at the tiny table while the water comes to a boil, so she contents herself with several glasses of water. She is turning to return to bed when there’s a knock at the door.

Peggy doesn’t typically receive visitors here - in fact, she barely receives herself in the tiny efficiency she’s been renting for the past months. There’s a war on, after all, and she essentially uses this as somewhere to catch a few hours’ sleep before returning to headquarters. She isn’t even certain that anyone knows this address. Then again, it would be just typical of today to have someone coming to inform her of a fire or a gas leak while she’s in this state.

But to her surprise, when she calls a polite if stuffed-up, “Who is it?” through the door, the response is, “Steve Rogers.”

“I thought you were in Amsterdam,” she says, opening up and stepping back (it comes out as “Absterdam;” Phillips really was probably right to send her home.)

“We were until this morning,” he responds, following her inside and closing the door behind himself. “Only got back a couple of hours ago, but when I went to track you down with some documents, they said that you’d gone home sick so I—” Fully inside now, he peers at her more closely, and she thinks she should probably be embarrassed, but she barely has the energy to hold her dressing gown closed around her body so more complex emotion will have to wait.

“Right,” he says, his tone changing to a decisive firmness. “Okay. Back to bed.”

“But I—” she protests, mostly out of habit. The thought of even the thin single bed that came with the flat is so tempting that it should be featured in a Greek myth.

“I don’t think so.” He reaches over and gently touches her shoulders with both enormous hands, turning her around and directing her over to sleep.

“You aren’t meant to boss me around,” she tries, but it comes out around a yawn.

“I’ll keep it in mind for the future,” he says, and even through her muzzy head, she thinks there’s affection in his voice. “But maybe just listen for now, huh? I’m kind of the expert.”

The memory of that very lengthy file of his from boot camp comes into her head, but she can’t hold the thought there. Before she even has time to pull up the blanket, she’s crumpled into sleep.

When she wakes up again she isn’t certain of the time, though she feels much more clear-headed overall. A glass of water sits beside the bed, and she manages to sit up (the blanket slides off as she does; apparently someone put it on her) and drink it down without much dizziness.

“I can get you another,” comes Steve’s voice. “Or I can try my hand at a cup of tea.”

She looks around and finds him sitting at the table - the only place to sit, really - with a newspaper in front of himself. She clears her throat. “Do you have any experience with that?” The words come out clearly, which she considers a fairly good sign.

“Not really. It’ll probably be a good thing that you can’t taste much.”

“I’m actually—” she considers, realizing it with surprise for the first time herself. “I actually feel a bit peckish.”

“Good sign,” he says, standing. “Just a minute.”

“I don’t have very much here at the moment,” she points out, and then feels compelled by some lesson of hospitality or politeness or normalcy which her mother tried to impart to her to add, “I’m not about often. I usually end up in the mess back at headquarters or finding a bit to eat on the way between here and there.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not as if I could cook you up anything edible even if you had a full fridge,” he says easily teasing, as he comes over to her with a bowl of consomme and a saucer with a bread roll sliced thin and slightly charred from toasting it over the open flame of the stove. He hands her the bowl, places the roll beside the clock on the nightstand.

She studies him more carefully as he brings one of the kitchen chairs closer to her bedside. He had arrived in full uniform, but now his jacket hangs on the back of the chair he had been occupying, his sleeves are rolled to the elbow and he has his tie loosened. His hair is a bit disheveled. He looks wonderful, and she tries to forget how wrecked she must come off just now.

“Where did this come from, then?” she asks, taking a careful spoonful of the broth. It is a touch salty, noticeably warm but no longer steaming, and feels wonderful moving down her throat. She takes another sip.

“I ran over to the place around the corner. Told them I had a sick friend, and they threw in the roll for free.”

A sick friend. She rolls the words around in her head as she bites gingerly and thoughtfully into one of the small rounds of toast. Thinking of herself as sick is unfamiliar but it’s currently true and she can accept it as fact. Friend, though…

She and Steve have been courteous to each other since the incident with Private Lorraine, but don’t spend extra time together. Sometimes, though, their eyes will meet across the table during a strategy session, or they’ll each choose to deliver something to the other that isn’t strictly their responsibility. Just in those occasional moments, when she allows it, she remembers how determined he is, how quietly funny, how sharp and kind.

She thinks it might actually be nice to become real friends with Steve, but she doesn’t know that she’ll be able to forget the time when she thought that they might become something more, doesn’t know that she can stop herself from still hoping for the future.

“You must be a bit of an expert in the sickbed experience,” she says, eager to change the topic, only realizing once she has that it might be rude or bring up painful memories. Thankfully, however, Steve only laughs.

“It’s a little strange to have nearly gotten through winter with nothing happening. I keep expecting the flu or a nice case of pneumonia to sneak up on me.” His face twists into a slight sadness. “I was lucky, though, back then. My mother took really good care of me. Made sure I always had books and pencils, someone to call if she had to work, soup and crackers when I needed them...A couple of times, when things had been really bad, she got me an orange. We couldn’t afford it and I know that she missed dinners because of it, but she insisted on it so that—so that when I could taste again, that would be the flavor waking me up.”

The soup glides over the tenderness growing in her throat. Here, again, is the reminder of why Erskine was drawn to him, why she’s been drawn to him: because without considering otherwise, he uses the protection given by the serum to help those who need it, because he won’t ever forget the way it felt to eat an orange gifted by someone who scrimped and hurt for it but did it anyway because she loved him.

“I don’t expect you were the most compliant patient, if you’re being truthful,” she comments once she’s swallowed.

“What tipped you?” he says, mouth curling up into a grin. He spreads his hands. “I would have been an angel and stayed in bed, but when one person works twelve hour days, it's up to the other person to make sure the house is clean. Plus, Bucky's team really needed a second baseman."

She laughs too, though it turns into a bit of a cough at the end. As she catches her breath, she looks into the dwindling depths of her bowl. "I'm reminded just now," she says, "of how hard it can be to ask for the help you need, to give up control and let someone take care of you on occasion."

There's a quiet in the room with them, a ticking clock silence. Then Steve says slowly, "That's always been pretty hard for me too. But I think it's something I could get good at if I had the chance. If I came across the right person."

When she looks up, he's already there waiting for her with a steady gaze. An understanding passes between them, but after what's happened before, she needs more than that.

"I think it's something I could learn as well. Leaning on someone." She reaches over, covers his hand with hers. "I hope we both have the chance for it."

"So do I," he says softly, holding on until she yawns again. "Okay," he says. "Time to sleep again, I think. Doctor's orders, probably."

She screws up her face, but is actually tired enough to comply, lying down and letting him clear away her dishes to wash.

"I'll stay around until you wake up," is the last thing she registers before she drifts off. And even though she knows he must have a thousand things to do over at headquarters, when she wakes once again, he is still there, just as he is each time after.

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers

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snarkwrites · 3 years

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04 | trouble | greg sanders | csi:vegas

Notes:

So this came to me earlier. And I make no promises that this is even remotely accurate for how things would actually play out or progress, but it’s fanfiction. I did my best with realism, but you’re warned up front. I am not either a law enforcement professional, nor am or have I ever been involved in things like this.. Nor do I claim to know how shock / people would react in a situation like Belle is in currently. I’m doing my best with it.

That being said, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. It’s been another fun one to write because it has crime and stuff in it AND romance and fluff ( well I mean it will eventually)

Warning:

Mentions of murder / crimes. Attempted murder. Stalking & slight hints at violence. Your typical crime show type stuff. Read with caution, loves.

Summary:

Belle’s come to Vegas to escape an ex fiance. To try and pick herself up and move past what she’s witnessed. But she might just be in over her head this time...

Pairing:

Greg Sanders X Sidle!Sibling OFC, Belle.

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three part 1 - three part 2 - soundtrack ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

Other Stuff:

[ faq & tag list doc ]

FOUR.

The calls started a day or two later. From an unknown number. At all hours of the day and night. I’d gotten to a point where between the calls and the nightmare and my mind replaying everything I’d seen in the alley that last night in New Orleans, I was barely sleeping.

I’d just started to doze off on the couch in front of the television when the cell phone charging on the end table started to ring.

I gulped, suddenly wide awake all over again.

My hands shook as I reached out to pick up my ringing phone, just to see who it was. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding when I realized that it wasn’t another unknown number, it was Greg.

“Greg, hi.”

“ Hey. So, I thought I’d call. Make sure you were okay while I’ve got a thirty minute break.”

I stretched and smiled a little. The tension that had built up in me was starting to subside and I slipped off my sister’s couch, pacing the living room of her apartment for a few seconds. “How’s everything going there?”

“It’s been a slow night tonight. What about you?” he answered.

… aside from every single time I try to get some sleep, I’ll hear a noise and freak out, go for the gun I caved in and bought myself or my switchblade.. Or when I do manage to drift off, I’m getting creepy calls or I see a slow mo replay of how I watched my ex fiance kill a man in cold blood or how he almost ran me over with his car… Instead of dumping it all on Greg, I shoved it down all over again.

I guess my thought process is that if I shove all this down deep enough, it’ll eventually disappear and I’ll be fine again. Logically, I know it’s not true, but it’s the only thing I can do right now.

,, aside from staying in this apartment and never leaving the safety of it again. How’s that working out for you, huh?” my mind taunted me. I used to be a lot braver than this. I used to always have a ton of ideas and approaches for women who found themselves in my situation right now. Funny, when I need it most just to get by, that bravery and boldness has pretty much vanished.

I never thought I’d be the girl who had an actual panic attack at the thought of going out to pick up groceries and go for a job interview. A job interview that I’d no doubt been so jittery during that I wouldn’t be getting.

Fingers tangled in my hair, tugging as I paced the darkened room. The silence felt heavy. And I felt like I was being watched.

Just like I have every single night since I left New Orleans.

“Are you there, Belle?” Greg’s voice brought me out of my own head and I managed a shaky “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, I’m fine.. Just thinking.” response. He repeated his question. I knew he didn’t believe a single word when I reassured him for a second time that I was fine.

I thought I heard the ladder to the fire escape rattle and I tensed, going quiet. My breath catching in my throat.

Almost as soon as I heard the guy who lives below my sister and Gil start up a conversation on his cell phone, I let out a ragged breath.

“Have you been able to sleep?” Greg asked a few seconds later.

It was a question I didn’t dare answer because I’m discovering that apparently, Greg is gonna be the one person other than Sara that I can’t hide things from. My mouth opens and out comes the truth.

And he’s already involved in this bullshit enough.

I finally sighed. “Here and there.”

It wasn’t a complete lie.

“You need sleep, Belle.”

If the situation I was in weren’t scaring me to death. If I didn’t have so much on my mind already, the tone of his voice all calm and firm… It would’ve done things to me.

,, being a sucker for a firm tone and a pair of deep brown eyes hasn’t done you any favors at all so far in life, Belle.” was my immediate thought. And that was followed by a quieter one. It almost didn’t sound like my own thought at all… It kind of made me think of and miss my mom.

,,We Sidle women certainly have ourselves a well established type.” for a few seconds, I wasn’t sure if it were the delirium from lacking sleep for a while now or my own memories of her… But I could almost close my eyes and see her perfectly as she said it. It had been the opening line of her toast to my aunt years ago.

It had been the last thing she spoke on mine and Sara’s actual father, and it was the very thing she said in a dreamy tone when she met the man that ultimately became our stepfather years down the road… A man who come to think of it, reminded me a lot of Gil Grissom. ,, And Greg.” my mind interjected but I shoved it back out quickly.

And if I really thought back further… The little bits I remembered about our father reminded me an awful lot of Vinnie.

I sighed.

“I know, I just… Can’t. I keep replaying it in my head.” I wiped at my eyes. Lack of sleep had them burning.

Again, it wasn’t a total lie. It was the truth, just leaving out the simple fact that there was so much more to the story than Greg even really knew.

I flopped back down on the sofa and my eyes settled on the microwave’s clock. Only a little after 1 am.

“Yeah, I know what you mean… a few years back, I went through something similar.” Greg admitted, going quiet on his end of the line for a second or two. I heard him take a sip of something and it made me think of the Corona sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Probably lukewarm by now. I rose from the couch, slinking into the kitchen and picked up the glass, taking a long sip. I nodded to myself when he gave me the vaguest runthrough of what happened to him. Sara had mentioned the incident to me back then. I remember actually buying a Vegas newspaper just to see how everything played out. It just seemed so senseless and cruel, what he’d had happen to him.

“All I want to do is sleep. Forget. But every time I’m close, I’ll hear a noise in this place and I’ll be wide awake.” I admitted it before I could stop myself.

Greg cleared his throat. For a few seconds that stretched into hours it seemed, he was quiet. Like he was thinking. Like there was something he wanted to say.

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” I reassured him, even though I honestly didn’t know I would be.

I didn’t even really know if I was going to make it out of this situation alive if I were going to be totally honest about it.

XXX

“Heard you talkin in here.” Nick spoke up from the doorway of the break room.

Greg nodded, continuing to pace the room. It was harder to talk to her on the phone than in person. And it was driving him insane, knowing that she was going to do everything in her power to seem fine.

After telling Sara the whole story earlier, -or what he knew of it so far, Sara filled him in on how Belle tended to avoid handling things. Told him that she’d always been real skittish. Avoided confrontations, especially with men, like the plague. Knowing why that was really made him angry. Had him feeling more protective.

Everything Sara told him in their earlier conversation about Belle’s situation when he called to warn her stuck with him. It explained why she always seemed to want to back away whenever she’d get close. Or stop herself short of saying something on more than one occasion. Like she wanted to trust him but she was too afraid. ,, between the two exes Sara did tell you about and this asshole Vinnie… Can you really say you blame her?”

“I heard what happened a few nights ago, man. Is she alright?”

“She’s not sleeping. I think I’ve seen her leave Sara and Gil’s place two times since… Without me.”

Nick eyed him and gave a knowing smirk as he did so. “Whaddya mean without you?”

“I said what I said. She’s over there freaking out, Nick. What am I supposed to do, just pretend I don’t know?”

“Oh. Oh.” Nick muttered as it all clicked into place for him. For as long as he could remember, Sara had always threatened to introduce Greg to her little sister. Kept saying she had a ‘feeling’ about the two.

,, looks like big sister’s hunch might just be right because he’s in head over heels. This is even more than he got involved with that Ellen woman a few years back.” the thought came but Nick kept it to himself.

Greg insisted it was friendship. It was because Sara seemed worried about her when she’d talked to him about her sister using the apartment while she and Gil were away on sabbatical. But Nick wasn’t stupid. He could see it.

Clearly.

“What the hell do you mean Oh?” Greg questioned, pacing a little, finishing off a burrito, swearing because as per usual, when he got to the middle of it, it was still mostly frozen. Nick nodded to a chair and Greg sat down, drumming his fingers on the table.

Nick turned the chair so that the back was against his chest and he sat down, chuckling as he shrugged. “I told you ya had a type, Greggo.”

“I don’t have a type. And it’s not even like that. She’s here by herself, man.” Greg pointed out, taking the last bite of the less than satisfying burrito.

“And in danger.” Nick reminded Greg gently. Greg nodded, shrugging. Nick happened to see the flash of anger in the other man’s normally warm eyes and he chuckled, shaking his head. “The more you keep tellin yourself this isn’t what it’s turnin into.. The faster it’s gonna turn into that.”

“Look. There’s something there, okay? But I’m ignoring that for now. All I know is that she’s going through something.”

“Just be careful, man.” Nick warned.

“This isn’t the same thing as Ellen, Nick.”

“I didn’t say it was. I don’t feel like it is at all, man. I just feel like there’s more to this than you realize.” Nick admitted, standing up.

“C’mon. Langston just sent me down to tell ya we got a case anyway, man. On the outskirts, near that one shady biker bar.”

“Just fuckin great.” Greg grumbled, standing. Launching the wrap that his burrito had come in at the trash. “What’s it look like this time?”

“Well, it was a shootout. Probably rival MC’s. There’s no tellin out there, man. You know that same as me.”

Greg nodded, the two men going silent.

XXX

Movement down in the parking lot caught my eye. More to the point, movement over by my car. I stared out the window, watching the black hooded figure pacing back and forth. The glow of a cigarette dangling between their lips. I could see it from where I stood in my sister’s living room window.

My heart was pounding a little faster. When the black hooded figure turned and seemed to be facing me, I dove out of sight, pressing against the wall. My breathing ragged, filling the heavy silence.

It was a little after 3 am now. And I’d almost been sleeping. But then I thought I heard the doorknob to the apartment’s front door start to jiggle, rocking hard as if someone were trying to force their way in. It hadn’t been, because I sat there in the dark, staring at the doorknob for almost ten minutes with nothing. Tensed up, my hand never far from the gun I’d stopped to buy myself earlier.

The gun sat on the end table, in my line of sight. It hadn’t left my sight since I’d stopped to buy it. It wouldn’t leave my sight anytime in the foreseeable future, either.

The moonlight through the window settled on the gun and I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut. Trying to take a few long and deep breaths, trying to tell myself that maybe it was just one of the guys in the building, staggering around the parking lot too drunk to function and they’d just stopped by my car purely on accident. A coincidence.

But why linger for such a long time? Why stare up at the building?

After a few minutes of standing there, I made myself look down into the parking lot.

The black hooded person was gone, and I took a few long and shaky breaths to pull myself together.

Maybe it was nothing.

Yeah, it had to be nothing.

Deep down, I had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t just a random inconsequential happening. That the person had been lingering by my car. And not by accident, either.

,, Welp, there goes any hope of sleeping tonight. Between the nightmares and the replay of a few nights ago and what I just saw…” I thought to myself as I made my way into the kitchen, preparing to brew myself a very strong pot of black coffee because that was probably the only way I was going to stay awake.

#greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders fanfic #greg sanders imagines #my writing ; greg sanders #my fanfiction ; greg sanders #my fics ; greg sanders #// I swear ya'll... it'll get better sooner or later bc off. rn it is... tense af #// stalker tw #// murder / attempted murder mentions tw #// injury tw - for the last two parts. its not in here #// read with caution loves

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 2, 2021: The Last Unicorn (Part 2)

Ready to get back to The Last Land Narwhal!

Forgot to mention narwhals in my last post. For the record, that’s a tooth, not a horn, and nobody knows for sure what it’s for. It seems to have functions in defense against predators, communication, environmental analysis, and of course, sexual selection. That last one is the leadng theory for purpose of the tusk.

But yeah, these guys are the unicorns of the sea, so I should’ve mentioned them. OK, back to The Last Unicorn! Part 1 of the Recap is right here!

Recap (2/2)

The journey continues anew, in the right direction this time, and the three head to King Haggard’s castle to find the Red Bull and the other Unicorns. And they find it soon enough, as a bright red light envelops the castle that night. And that light is, of course, the Red Bull.

Well, it’s out of my system...I think. I think. But OK, the real Red Bull, then.

Yeah, this thing is a scarlet MONSTER, and it really does quite monstrous. Molly asks the doubting Schmendrick to do something, and tells him that he has the ability to use magic,, even though he doubts it. With the Bull chasing the Unicorn, Schmendrick tries to do something to stop the chase. And, uh...he succeeds.

Yeah, whoops. Looks like Schmednrick turned her into the worst thing in the world: a human girl! NOOOOOOOOOO! Yeah, everybody (except for Schmendrick) freaks out about this, ESPECIALLY the Unicorn. Now in a mortal body, she’s starting to lose it. However, Schmendrick is right in that this is a pretty decent body.

But yeah, no, the Unicorn is NOT HAPPY about this development. However, Schmendrick does convince her that this is the best way to get into the kingdom of Haggard to find the other Unicorns. They give her the name “Lady Amalthea”, and they indeed get access to the castle.

They go to meet King Haggard (Christopher Lee), whom it turns out is an old, shriveled man who seeks only happiness. He only keeps things around him that make him happy. Molly, clever as she is, convinces Haggard that he has need of a new magician, as his current one clearly does not make him happy.

Seems that Haggard agrees, and pretty much immediately fires his current magician, Mabruk (Paul Frees), who’s none too pleased by this development. He begins to exact his vengeance, until stopped by the magic still within the Unicorn. Mabruk tells Haggard that he has “invited doom through his front door”, and leaves without another word.

The Unicorn, now as “Amalthea”, also quickly unnerves Haggard, as he can’t see his reflection in her eyes, which understandably freaks him out. However, with the help of his son Prince Lir (Jeff Bridges), he quickly calms down and tells the three that they can come and go as they please. And the group settles in, as Lir and “Amalthea” bond.

Lir’s pretty quickly smitten with her, and tries very hard to prove himself a worthy escort and partner, through slaying monsters and becoming a hero. However, she never even speaks to him, seeming cruel to him. He tells this to Molly, and Molly goes to speak with “Amalthea”. However...Amalthea appears to be losing her memory and identity as a Unicorn. Well, fuck.

This is revealed through the song “Now That I’m a Woman”, sing by Mia Farrow herself. And...yeah, she’s not a great singer. Honestly, she’s a pretty poor singer, and it definitely shows. Hell, in the soundtrack, they actually replaced her voice with someone else. And...yeah, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

Molly assures Amalthea that Schmendrick will find a way to speak with the Red Bull, but Amalthea pretty heartlessly writes him off and mocks him as the King’s clown, which Molly rightfully tells her off for. Yeah, Molly’s the best character. The cat named...The Cat (Paul Frees) agrees!

Oh, yeah, there’s a cat with a peg-leg and an eyepatch that speaks with a pirate accent. What? You’ve never seen a pirate cat before? Come on, they’re super-common...I guess. Anyway, the cat tells Molly that soon the Unicorn will become Amalthea, a human woman. Oh, yeah, cats see through magic and lies, including the fact that Amalthea is the Unicorn. It’s common knowledge.

Amalthea, meanwhile, is having dreams of her life as a Unicorn from earlier in the movie. She wakes up, and Lir comes to speak with her. She is quite tired, and is always dreaming of this life, asleep or awake. Lit wants to help her, and she asks for a way to wipe away these dreams. As Amalthea becomes more human, she also grows to love Lir.

Lir serenades her with a song, called “That’s All I’ve Got to Say”. And Jeff Bridges...is also not a singer. Yeah, he’s not the worst, but he’s DEFINITELY not great. Sorry, Jeff, I love ya, but this definitely isn’t your strong point. Fun fact, though, Art Garfunkel apparently covered this song. And it’s...A LOT FUCKING BETTER. Seriously, check it out right here, it’s not bad! And actually, Leighton Meester and Scott Grimes also did a pretty great cover, which is right here, if you’re curious! Sorry, Jeff. You just aren’t my favorite singer.

Anyway, as the two fall in love, Schmendrick tries to solve a riddle passed down by the cat, regarding a clock with the answers. At the same time, Haggard speaks to Amalthea on the parapet, as he reveals that only one thing has ever made him happy. But before he reveals it, he states that he knows who Amalthea actually is.

And that’s when he shows her the one thing that makes him happy: unicorns. The Red Bull, a fire elemental, drove them into the sea so that the King could always see them from this castle on the shore. He commanded the Red Bull to catch them for him, as he had never been as happy as the first time he saw them in the woods. So, in other words...he turned them into NARWHALS, THE UNICORNS OF THE SEEEEEEEEA!

However, it would seem that Amalthea is a little bit too far gone at this point. Haggard notices this when he can see his reflection in her eyes this time, and she believes him mad. Yeah, Amalthea’s taking over, and the Unicorn is starting to fade. Well, shit, now what?

Schmendrick may have an answer to that, as he’s started to solve the riddle, which involves getting a skull to talk or some such thing. I think I missed some of the specifics, because this movie has...a LOT of talking. Like, fuck me, dude, it’s not a long movie, but the amount of talking makes it feel that way. Anyway, the Skull, called...the Skull (René Auberjonois), guards the Red Bull’s lair, and they have to convince the Skull to let them in. Schmendrick does so by bribing the Skull with wine, because apparently he’s a recovering alcoholic. And they trick him with literally an empty bottle. Powerful placebo effect, baby.

As they get to the clock, the Skull realizes that Amalthea is a The Last Unicorn, and raises the alarm to Haggard as they make their way through the clock to the Red Bull’s lair. They make it through, and Lir is also there at the same time. Weird. On the outside, Haggard destroys the clock, trapping the four within.

While in there, Amalthea confesses her love for Lir, and wishes to remain a human, rather than turn back into a Unicorn. However, Lir understands the truth of who and what she is, even if he does still love her. Molly believes she should stay as a human, for the sake of her love, while Schmendrick notes that she must become a unicorn again. However, that’s all made pretty goddamn moot when the Red Bull shows up.

Schmendrick finally gets his shit together, and the magic speaks through him to turn Amalthea back into the Unicorn. The Bull still chases after them, and begins to drive the Unicorn into the sea. Lit attempts to save her, and is nearly killed by the Null in the process.

At the last second, the Last Unicorn rallies against the Red Bull, attacking and driving it into the sea...with the rest of the Land Narwhals.

And with that, the rest of the Unicorns return to the land, and Amalthea is no longer the Last Unicorn. With their stampede, Haggard’s castle by the sea crumbles, and Haggard himself plummets to his death.

As they run off, Amalthea returns, and revives Lir from the dead. Amalthea says that she remembers Lir, and then...fucks off to the woods, I guess. Lir says goodbye to Schmendrick and Molly, who pledge their love for each other in the process. Schmendrick says goodbye to Amalthea, who asks if it makes him happy to be a true wizard now.

Amalthea notes that she’s afraid to go back, as she is the only Unicorn to ever know regret. Schmendrick apologizes for this, but she asks for no apologies. She rides off into the moonset, and into the credits.

And that’s The Last Unicorn! And it was...interesting. I say that a lot, I know, but I’m gonna have to percolate on this one. See you tomorrow for the Review!

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Jay Arr - John Daggett x Reader (The Dark Knight Rises)

GIF CREDIT: X (okay the original source doesn’t exist.)

@happyskywhale @wltz-bby

A kinda crossover between TDKR and Birds of Prey.

Author’s Note: Ages and ages and ages ago @mandy23b reblogged the above gif set, and I said it’d inspired a part 4 of my ‘If I Didn’t Know Better’ series. And then... never gave you all a part 4. Mostly because in the end I didn’t think the mood of the GIF matched the mood of my series. I was further inspired to write ‘Dress’ but, again, it wasn’t appropriate. Then I was clearing out an old discord server and found an old chat in which a scenario was written about discovering Daggett’s middle name. I took that, and have thus adapted it into the below.

THEN I watched Bird of Prey and BAM-! this hit. And its 50/50 movie/badass soundtrack BUT, this was born, and I got to use that gif, finally! 😁 Enjoy, my darlings 💙😘💜

Disclaimer: TDKR nothing to do with me / gifs & lyrics and the usual not mine.

Premise: Finding out his middle name seems like an easy enough task. You should know better.

Words: 3285

Warnings: swearing / sexual connotations

_____ Girl, girl, girl can't you see What you do to me, tonight Boy, boy, boy, if you're mean I will start a fight tonight You and I could try to stop Oh boy till you drop If we get together now We'll burn this place down Boy, boy boy, want a fight? Come and stay with me the night Girl, girl, girl, are you sure (Uh huh!) I ain't here to fight, alright? You and me, can't you see We're playing with fire Tell me now do you feel this burning desire? Don't stop, make it rock It's taking us higher Could it be just a dream? Are you running away? If we get together now We'll burn this place down

---

It’d started innocent enough. Not that John ever made anything innocent.

John R Daggett? What does the R stand for? What’s your middle name-!?

Now you had him pinned beneath you, straddling him on his desk, wearing his tie, breathing hard and fast with his passport in your hands. Victorious of course - he wasn’t about to get up from the way you had him trapped, though he was straining. If Daggett thought that the growl in his voice was about to make you weak, he had another thing coming.

***

You waltzed into his office with a bunch of mail; “All of this came for you again - I really wish you would stop having your mail sent to my house, it’s quite annoying... why do you do it!?” “It’s a good address.” Neither of you were going for a customary greeting this morning. He wasn’t even about to rebuke you with a sarcastic ‘hello’. You scoffed “Wait, what? Don’t tell me you’re trying to give the illusion that you have a place in a fancy location? What can be fancier than this house?!” “One of the most sought-after locations in Gotham City, my dear.” “Rather than what...?” You looked around “One of the most sought-after houses in Gotham? Was this not enough for you-!?” He smiled, but didn’t look up from his work; “What industry am I in, pray tell?” “Property.” You sighed, folding your arms. Well, 90% of the time, but you were sure he didn’t want you to get technical with everything else Daggett Enterprises did. John clicked his tongue, “Precisely.” “So you want people to think you own the building?” “The illusion always helps.” You shook your head, looking back to the mail, your apartment was nice sure - but it wasn’t this place. Who cares how people would view the fanciness of the location? But, presentation and perception always was everything to Daggett. “I know you too well J. R. Daggett... Hey, what does the R even stand for?! I’ve never seen that before...” That was true. You’d seen J. Daggett a bunch of times (sometimes with his last name spelled wrong) but never the R. It had occurred to you that he may not even have a middle name but apparently he did. “Ahhh...” He leant back in his chair, staring at you, “I could tell you that, but then I’d have to kill you.” “Mmm... I’m sure I have ways of making you talk...” Daggett’s smirk was delightful. “As am I, but not about that.” You gave a shrug as if you would drop the subject, which of course you would not be doing, and dropped the mail off on his desk. He thanked you with a blown kiss, to which you let him know he’d have to do better - Daggett reached for your hand instead, but you allowed his fingers to slip from yours as you crossed the room. “John, I’m working!” Even though your voice was teasing, and you knew he’d continue to watch you. True, you worked for him; as something akin to a bodyguard, you supposed. Not in the same capacity that Philip was - you were trusted with the bigger more covert operations, rather than what’d you’d call ‘lacky work’, if John asked you to drive him anywhere he knew he’d get slapped – but if he needed someone on the other side of Gotham City taken care of discreetly, he’d send you. You also liked doing some of his business work for him on occasion, running contracts around town and picking things up – usually proof reading for him and triple checking everything sent over by his accountants. Oh, you trusted them, but if anything was out of place you’d rather catch it and send it back for them to correct, rather than have Daggett yell about it when he found it himself. You bent over to slip out of your heels, and heard his groan from behind you, smirking to yourself: “You really are so predictable, darling.” You supposed you looked even better today, in your short suit. “I don’t really care…” Was his breathed response, as you stood and turned back to him again. “If you want it, you gotta come get it.” “Were I not incapacitated with mail…” He nodded to the pile you’d left and you laughed, “Uh huh. I see.” You weren’t sure it was a relationship – you weren’t exactly calling yourself his girlfriend. You refused to entertain the implication that he was paying you (and well!) for your services, and that this was just one of those. Surely not; neither of you were seeing anyone else. It was comfortable – and you cared about him at least. You weren’t sure it was love yet, but you weren’t ruling it out either. You were happy to see that there was in fact a contract for you to proof read and you hadn’t come all the way out here for nothing – delivering his mail certainly didn’t help. “You hear they’re all still looking for the Bertinelli diamond?” “You interested?” If he was going to ask you to try and find it, you’d rather John just say it. You flipped through the contract to find the corresponding number and went to open his filing cabinet to find your redlined copy: hopefully it’d all line up. “It’s interesting.” “So you don’t want it?” “Everyone that does winds up dead, so no.” “Good.” “Your conversation is lacking today.” “Just sounds like hard work I don’t need to involve myself in, to me.” Plus you didn’t want to end up dead. You slid the contract out and then paused, before you closed the draw: didn’t he keep his passport in here? For business trips and such? You opted to keep him talking, sliding the top draw open as silently as possible “Who’s the interested party?” “Roman Sionis.” “Roman? That sounds messy… not something I’d want to be involved in…” You searched through the files carefully, AHA!, as you pulled it out. “Yeah, I’d ag- WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” “If you won’t tell me,” You waved his passport around, “I’ll just find out myself.” That got him out of his seat, “Put. That. Back.” “If you want it…” You smirked again, repeating yourself, “Come get it.” You probably didn’t expect John to be as quick off the mark as he was, and you were glad of being out of your heels (not that you weren’t fast in them), as you had to skid around the table and run around the outside of his office, taking a breather at his desk – clutching the little booklet for dear life. What was it he didn’t want you to know? It couldn’t have been that bad! Daggett, however, not blessed with young legs and the ability to apply the brakes quickly, slammed hard into the coffee table. “Ow-!” He turned back to you, not letting the pain show on his face, and you backed up a few paces, “Y/N. Get back here.” You looked cautiously around the room – where best to move… John was already unimpressed, a look of thunder on his face, he began stalking towards you – you inched around his desk to avoid him, though couldn’t help smiling – teasing Daggett was just plain fun. “I see that you’re not incapacitated with your mail now-!” “Shut up, and give it back.” “No.” “Y/N!” “All you have to do is let me see it!” Your face softened a little, “I won’t tell a soul! I won’t even laugh.” “No!” “Oh, come on…” “There’s no way on Earth I am letting YOU see it.” “Well… I’ll have to see it eventually.” Daggett almost stifled another laugh, “How do you know?” You shrugged, “If I have to book travel.” “You don’t think there’s a reason you don’t do that already.” You paused, and then conceded – good point, not one you’d thought of. He ran at you again, this time catching your wrist and forcing you to turn back. It was the wrong wrist and you held the passport away. “Please…!” If he wasn’t going to play, maybe he’d respond well to begging? He held his other hand out, teeth gritted, “I won’t ask again.” You looked hard from his face to his fingers – curling themselves tightly around your arm. Daggett promptly let go; but you realised that he had you pinned back against his desk. “Then don’t.” Without his hands on you, you could pull him to you by his tie, one harsh breath stealing kiss later and you had the situation flipped, and Daggett pinned to his own desk, “Just let me read it, John, quick and painless.” “Bullshit. I can’t have you knowing that.” Then he raised his hand, “Besides-!” Somehow he’d used your own kiss against you and swiped it back. “You’re kidding!? How’d you-!?” “I like watching you. I picked up a few things.” “Oh? You like watching me?” You pushed him further against his desk, tie still tangled in your fingers. You pulled the knot so it loosened, pushing your body purposefully up against his and rolling your hips. His moan might have been quiet but it was still audible, “I can give you a good angle to do that from.” “You’re not getting it back.” Although his voice was husky, and as you kissed him this time you made sure to nip his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Don’t make me fight you for it.” This time Daggett grabbed your hands, growling, “Remember who you belong to.” You narrowed your eyes, “Careful, John. I’m your employee, but you don’t own me. Not even like this.” You pulled your hands back from him and he conceded to your warning with an apologetic look. Satisfied, you stepped forward again and kissed him, one hand travelling over his chest to loop around his neck, and the other reaching backwards to try to reclaim the small booklet. Daggett was having none of it, still able to keep it out of your reach. You pulled back, huffing, and as you were never one to give up, decided to play dirty. Play him at his own game – it was time John Daggett got a taste of his own medicine (and you got to find out that middle name!). You withdrew the hand you were currently reaching with, instead focusing on his suit and he made little to no protest at you undoing his belt buckle; lips still on his. All whilst making sure he was still forced up against his desk. As your hands moved to his zipper you ground your hips teasingly back into his, to which you received a stifled moan for your effort, inviting him to undo your own. John didn’t need asking twice, hands on your waist line as he shimmied your shorts from your hips grabbing handfuls of your ass. That was predictable, and more than likely that passport would be soon forgotten. You had no trouble pushing Daggett to lie back on his desk, already looking a little dazed and elated about the idea of this happening in his office. Why had this never happened in his office? Maybe because he was usually the one taking the lead and you’d have to think about someone walking in any minute. With you on top of him you hardly cared. Let them walk in, let them see what I can do to him… You straddled him, undoing the buttons of your waistcoat and shirt you let those and your jacket fall to the floor, Daggett groaned again as he stared at you. You were in nice translucent lace today – you’d bet he’d like that. You kissed him again, teasing him as you slid your pants off and pulled his boxers down. You didn’t need to bother taking his shirt and jacket off, but you wanted that tie. You took John’s hands in yours and rested them on your waist, with a small wink. “Don’t lose track of your passport now…” He glared at you but as he opened his mouth to snap back all he could do was moan loudly, head tipped back as you lined yourself up and lowered onto him. You chuckled, placing your hands over his on your hips – his grip was so tight, which was fine, you always liked him getting rough with you. “You okay?” “Mhm.” His little smirk was back, “Damn, you always look good on top of me.” “Well, I’m staying here. Winner gets your passport.” “You can pry that from my-” John groaned again, eyes squeezed shut as you moved, just once, but harsh and enough. “Careful, babe, I’m in control now.” *** You straightened up after your last kiss, both panting heavily, triumphant. You fanned yourself with his passport, and half expected for Daggett to grab it back. It surprised you that he didn’t, so you tilted your head – maybe he was waiting for you to let your guard down. You had been playful in getting it back from him, but he didn’t put up even too much of a fight then, far more absorbed in your sex. Daggett put his hands up, admitting defeat; “Yeah okay. Fair and square.” You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward to kiss him again, this time John’s hands followed you, keeping hold of his tie around your neck. Guess that made you doubly triumphant. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when you opened it to the photo page and your eyebrow raised, causing him to place one hand over his face. “Roland?! Okay I get it.” “EXACTLY!” His voice was pained. And you vowed silently to never mention it again, at least until you felt like annoying or embarrassing him. But then only in your private moments together. This was an award – not many knew about this; you weren’t about to spill that kind of secret when you’d worked so hard for it. You smiled, grazing your lips to his, “Don’t worry, you’ll always be just John to me.” Snapping his passport shut you set it to one side on his desk; case closed. Once you’d caught your breath back, you slipped from the desk and to the floor, unpinning him from under you. It took him another minute to sit up properly, and pull his pants back on – watching you collect your own from the floor. You weren’t shy about putting on as much of a show redressing, although John grabbed your hips and turned you back towards him before you’d pulled on your shorts, placing his hands on your waist deliberately so buttoning your shirt and waistcoat back would be difficult. “What?” He surveyed your body for a moment, “Nothing.” “Then you’re not getting any of my work done by staring, are you?” Although you allowed him to catch your lips in a short kiss. “Maybe I don’t want to… You can do that whenever, right?” His hands ran back to your ass, pulling you closer. “If you want to pay me overtime?” You grinned drawing him to your lips once more, “Now may I get dressed?” “Can I have my tie back?” He unfurled it from around your neck. “Oh. I suppose.” You slipped from his arms as he took it back, and then stepped out of his reach as you pulled your shorts on, neatening your hair you crossed the room to the contract you’d left on the table, the real reason you were supposed to be here. John was more than just a little pouty as you turned back to him, but you couldn’t help but smirk a little – he wanted you to entertain him; you weren’t about to. “Don’t you have mail to open?” He huffed, rolling his eyes and finally standing, sifting through the mail for what was most important – but he didn’t sit back at his desk for a little while, wandering around the room. You would have asked, only that was exactly what John wanted. You knew this man better than he thought you did; but that was because you did your job properly – you needed to know him inside out. Because hell, if sometimes you didn’t need to protect him from his own big mouth. The ego on this man… You’d just about finished the contract when John cleared his throat, now back at his desk, there was a briefcase sitting upon it. He tapped it nonchalantly: “Speaking of Roman Sionis...” You raised your eyebrow, closing the contract you walked back to his desk, slipping back into your heels. “Sign.” “It’s clear?” “Mhm. You can read it. But it’s good to go.” John nodded, before looking pointedly from you to the case. You sighed, “You want me to go to Roman’s club?” “Yes. Do the deal, come straight back - what do I pay you for?” You weren’t sure if that was a trick question; “... ME?” If you were getting technical you were contracted for security; everything else was kind of secondary. “Do you want me to mention this damn diamond?” Was that his real reason for sending you? “What’s wrong with that?” He blinked against your question, “No, I was being serious!” You looked down at your clothing, you’d certainly need to neaten yourself up. Roman’s scathing comments were one thing, but he was capable of much worse for far less. “Think I might need my tie pin for professionalism.” On days where you opted to wear a tie, you liked to hold it in place with a tie pin John had gifted you; Daggett Enterprises engraved in cursive across the gold plate; your initials on the inside. “More like the hidden blade.” Okay, so maybe you’d modified it into a weapon yourself – but it was easy to conceal and no one would suspect such a little thing to be so lethal. It at least made you feel safe at some of his dodgier business dealings. “Well I don’t think he’s gonna let me take my gun in!” You scoffed, folding your arms. “You won’t need them, I promise. What would I do without you?” He stood holding the case out to you, you were tentative, but realised you’d have no choice, and took it from him delicately. Daggett placed his fingers under your chin and coaxed you to his lips once more. “Okay. Good… Can I stay to watch Dinah sing?” He smiled and gave you a nod, “You may.” “Thank you.” You tipped your head, half curious and half worried: “What if I don’t come back?!” “All the paperwork and everything is in there. You’ll be fine.” “I don’t trust him. I don’t like you working with him.” And you were serious. The sooner these two finished business with each other wouldn’t be soon enough for your liking. Even if you did get to see her sing every time you frequented the club. That was very nearly worth it. But it was hard to focus on her sometimes when you had to worry about him… “Y/N. Just. Do what I tell you. Go.” John was clearly exasperated, just wanting you to go deliver the case, no questions asked. He should have known better. You narrowed your eyes at him and read it all over his face: Ah! Shit, that was a bad choice of words! You held the case behind you, stepping up to him, eyes searching Daggett’s your voice was still calm as you breathed your threat sweetly: “You better be ready to be tied up by your own tie when I get back. Sir.”

Daggett swallowed hard as you stepped back again and turned, waving once but offering no more as you left his office. Oh, he’d done it now…

---

Thank you for reading! 😁

#John Daggett #Ben Mendelsohn #The Dark Knight Rises #So for those that don't know... apparently our John Daggett is a version of the character Roland Daggett #and thus this scenario was born in the discord chat #Carina #I'll probably write for them again because i kinda have fallen in love with all my ideas for her and the way she looks in my head #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Shout out to the Eurovision 2010 soundtrack!#There are some bops on this one!#John Daggett x Reader #177 #Carina is a bisexual disaster 100%#John's personality in my fics it fixed - he ain't changing!

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kiss-my-freckle · 4 years

Text

The Stag & The Wendigo

"What particular body you currently occupy is trivial." - Hannibal

Hannibal is the wendigo (man-stag). The stag is a representation of Will's "devil" within (just as “The Dragon” is the devil within Francis). Viewed as a separate being due to Will’s internal struggle. I refuse to call it a ravenstag because the reference is absurd. This is my theory on the stag & the wendigo. Feel free to let me know if I missed any.

“So you set his mind on fire.”

(1x1: Apéritif) It waits by his side as Will showers.

(1x2: Amuse-Bouche) It disappears down the hall as Alana’s footsteps are waking Will. It was never in the room with Abigail because it’s too dangerous to be, as shown in 1x3.

(1x3: Potage) Will dreams he slits Abigail's throat just as Hobbs did. It watches, but disappears when Will wakes. The difference shows in the stag and the way Will wakes. Sudden beeping of an alarm clock, scaring the stag into the woods. Slowly waking Will, stag takes his time walking down the hall.

(1x5: Coquilles) It walks behind Will when he sleepwalks down the road. It nudges him to keep going. Perfect place to put this line of dialogue: “You drew a man with a freak on his back.” Will is drawn to the stag statue in Hannibal's office. “My brain is playing tricks on me?” He touches it.

(1x6: Entrée) It walks through the door of his classroom because Will is half-awake. This is shown in Jack's dialogue before the cut: “I know when I’m awake.” Will doesn’t know when he is. “I'm not even sure if I'm awake now." Alana’s voice wakes Will, and the stag disappears.

(1x7: Sorbet) Will sees it entering the hotel bathroom as he reenacts the crime scene. The devil within a man likes to kill, but he has to remain a separate being until Will accepts what he is.

(1x8: Fromage) Hannibal kills Tobias with the stag statue because he fears Will is dead: “I was worried you were dead.” The stag left on the floor represents Will’s death, thus... the death of his devil within. This pushes forward to the stag in 2x13, dying on the floor next to Will and Abigail.

(1x11: Rôti) It pushes him to Gideon’s car because Will knows he isn’t gone, and he plans to take him at gunpoint.

(1x12: Relevés) Georgia’s murder helps him connect Hannibal’s kills back through to the murder of Cassie Boyle. The stag impales her, then Georgia becomes the stag. “See? See?”

Preparing for the wendigo to appear as two separate beings.

(1x13: Savoureux) In dream: Will takes a rifle shot at the stag and chases it into the woods. The wendigo appears, kneeling at the tree to look at the blood he left behind. Will wakes as he comes face-to-face with the wendigo.

(1x13: Savoureux) "Like a thread through pearls." The wendigo is shown throughout, starting with the dream sequence. It lurks behind the one way mirror, it stands behind Hannibal as he and Will replay the events, then Hannibal takes its shape at the Hobbs’ residence.

(2x1: Kaiseki) It walks by the stream as Will imagines himself fly fishing. The wendigo comes out of the water when Will tells Chilton, "I want to talk to Dr. Lecter." He's in the water because Will plans to catch him like a fish. He sees a stag hoof outside of his cell because he hears Hannibal's shoes tapping across the floor. Similarly to Hannibal taking the stand in 2x3. Focus is placed on his shoes as he's walking into the courtroom. Hearing the animal, seeing the man. He sees the wendigo when Alana tries to help him recover his memories.

(2x2: Sakizuke) Will sees the wendigo peering through the top of the silo because he knows Hannibal killed the mural killer.

(2x3: Hassun) As I said of the stag hoof in 2x1, they placed focus on Hannibal's shoes as he entered the courtroom. Hearing the animal, then seeing the man. The wendigo in a person suit. Will comes to a realization in his dream. His cell door opens. When he walks out, he sees the stag at the end of the hall. It wants Will to follow him, so he does. When he reaches the end of the hall, Hannibal calls out to him. Will turns to see him as a man instead of the wendigo. He’s standing by Will’s cell. Hannibal extends his hand, motioning for him to return. Through his dream, Will basically realizes Hannibal isn't the stag. He wouldn’t direct him down the hall only to direct him back to his cell, and he can't be in two places at once. If Hannibal isn’t the stag, this only leaves one possibility in Will’s mind. IMO, one of the most important stag scenes. He now knows what it represents. Will’s knowing gives us the stag scene in 2x5. I should also make mention to the scene prior because it’s the reason Jack gets left behind in the series finale.

(2x5: Mukōzuke) Will sees the wendigo lurking behind Beverly’s body, cut into sections and placed on slides because he knows Hannibal killed her. Will becomes the stag after sending his admirer to kill Hannibal. Will’s realization in 2x3... the stag is his devil within.

(2x6: Futamono) Will's antlers grow through the roof of his cage and expand. “He's playing a game and he's not scared, not anymore. That's what's making him dangerous." Indeed. He’s building his rack, preparing to impale on a serious level.

(2x9: Shiizakana) This episode makes it a little more obvious. "Must I denounce myself as a monster while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you?" Will dreams of using it to kill Hannibal who appears as the wendigo prior to his decapitation. The devil within a man likes to kill, it’s less personal/intimate for Will, and the "good" part of himself remains clean. This scene also acts as an introduction to Randall Tier, a young man who sees himself as an animal. During his crime scene replay, Will sends the stag to kill the couple, then he himself transforms into what I'd call a semi-wendigo.

(2x10: Naka-choko) Because Will knows Hannibal sent Randall to kill him, his mind turns the bear into a stag, then the stag into Hannibal and the wendigo. When Hannibal puts on his kill suit and heads to Freddie's room, a stag picture is shown hanging above her bed. Foreshadowing. "Are you thinking about getting into bed with Freddie Lounds?" Freddie is at Will's house, the picture represents Will "getting into bed" with Freddie because he has no choice. He's baiting the wendigo. Before I get into the sex scene, pointing out something I noticed while watching 1x13 wendigo scenes: "Wind him up and watch him go. And apparently, Dr. Lecter, this is how I go." There's a certain sound sequence that plays in those scenes when the wendigo winds Will up to watch him go. It winds him up in his dream, after he vomits Abigail’s ear, in the interrogation room, and as he pulls a gun on Hannibal at Hobbs’ house. It also winds him up during their sex scene in this episode. Will is sexually driven by Hannibal. He’s winding him up and watching him go.

(2x11: Kō No Mono) The opening scene appears to be a dream, but I'm not sure if it's a dream or just a representation. Either way, the wendigo follows a stag. It watches as the stag dies and Will emerges from its belly as a semi-stag. It's basically meant to come off as a rebirth, similarly to Peter’s storyline with the horses at the stable. I believe this scene appears at the open because it follows the final scene in the previous episode. In that scene, I believe Will was eating actual human flesh, as it shows his face becoming Hannibal’s before they cut to black. The wendigo appears as Shiva in Hannibal’s office. “Did you know?” Will's belief that Hannibal is the reason Margot turned to him to get pregnant, so he sees Hannibal as the destroyer of Abigail and the creator of his Verger heir.

(2x13: Mizumono) "I build forts." Will returns home after meeting with Jack and Hannibal. The side-by-side doesn't show who he's truly siding with, only how he feels. “Good" Will wants to be loyal to Jack, the devil within wants to be loyal to Hannibal. He's friends with both. When he reaches his porch, he sees Hobbs waiting for him. This scene reveals who he's siding with. "See? See?" Will finally sees what he was meant to after shooting Hobbs ten times. He has two options. This episode offers the first: Kill the devil within. He and Hobbs are shown in a tree house. He takes aim at the stag on the ground and fires. Once Will saw himself in Abigail's position (wanted for the murder of Randall Tier), he decided to switch sides and disappear with Hannibal, but arrived at his house too late. At the end of the episode, the stag is shown on the floor right beside him and Abigail because it’s his devil within. They’re dying together. He betrayed the wendigo, and he can’t kill the devil within without killing himself. It’s part of who he is whether he likes it or not.

(3x2: Primavera) Picking up where they left off in season two. The stag's blood floods Hannibal's kitchen. In his hospital bed, Will hallucinates being stabbed in the gut from the inside out by one of the wendigo's antlers because Hannibal cut into him. Association. Hannibal saw Antony Dimmond as the man he was before Will's betrayal twisted him up. “I'm here to help you untwist to our mutual benefit.” Antony wanted to untwist him as Hannibal wanted to untwist Will. “It's a savage pleasure, and we are born to it. A pleasure we can share." He basically says the same thing when they take off to face The Dragon. "You'd be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself." Typically, Will sees Hannibal as the wendigo, but roles reverse with Antony. The eating of the heart. Antony treated Hannibal as Hannibal treated Will. The stag is skinned of his person suit, his broken heart left for WiIl to eat. I made mention to this on one of my rewatch posts. Vide Cor Meum (See My Heart). The soundtrack at the end of 1x13 as Hannibal walks into the mental hospital to see Will. It’s based on Dante’s first sonnet.

(3x3: Secondo) Antlers behind Will as he sits by the fire. Chiyoh is cooking dinner for her prisoner. Again, perfect place to put this dialogue: “You drew a man with a freak on his back.”

(3x5: Contorno) Will hallucinates Chiyoh dead in a thicket of antlers. She pushes him off the train. The stag nudges Will awake, then walks down the tracks. His devil within basically telling him to move his ass.

(3x7: Digestivo) How Will sees the wendigo as Hannibal saws into his head. The way he sees the wendigo and Jack, their faces deformed as they are... it appears somewhat similar to the way he saw Hannibal’s face when he was suffering from encephalitis.

(3x6: Dolce) The dinner sene. Hannibal as the wendigo. Will on one antler, Hannibal on the other. "They are identically different, Hannibal and Will."

(3x8: The Great Red Dragon) Behind Chilton in the office as he talks with Alana. Foreshadowing. Because Will’s opinion counts. “Hard to believe an inmate's opinion will count for anything in the professional community." Yes, it’s going to sting.

The same position as the “pet” photograph in 3x12. I believe “This is the child of a nightmare” is a quote from Chilton’s book on Hannibal. I think Will realized it was a book of lies, and knew Chilton was planning to cash in again by writing a book of lies on The Dragon.

(3x9: …And the Woman Clothed with the Sun) Hannibal's wendigo reflection in a mirror shard. They don’t show Will’s reflection. I believe they were left with a choice to make. Keep them as they are, or switch the stag to a lion and the wendigo to a tiger.

Will’s second option: Become stronger than the stag. “I’m stronger than The Dragon now.”

#Hannibal

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter two: old markers

hehehehehe

It would be another hour before the Cherry Suicides packed it in for the night, and at that point, the sun was already hanging low over the New York City skyline. Zelda ran her fingers through her pitch black hair and showed Sam, Aurora, and Marla a big goofy grin. Despite such a hard and raucous show, she had a nice bloom of blush across her face and her eyes twinkled with the fire of having performed a good show.

“Apparently the four of us are getting a good healthy paycheck in a couple of days,” she announced.

“So the bunch of us are all gonna have to pitch in,” Aurora followed along.

“Exactly! The bunch of us along with Metallica, too. And I have to pay Louie's rent, too. So—you guys wait over there and I'll be right back...” Zelda stuffed her drum sticks into her back jeans pocket and gave her hair a toss back; Sam watched her stop at the curb and peer in both directions at the street. She was amazed that those drum sticks never fell out given her long and lanky drummer's legs pumped so hard across the pavement. She reached the sidewalk on the other side and then she slowed down into a brisk walk: Sam watched her for a little bit longer until Marla tapped her on the shoulder.

“C'mon, Sam-zish,” she coaxed her.

“Sam-zish?” she chuckled at that as she fixed the strap on her purse. Zetro put his arms around the both of them.

“That was courtesy of this big dude here,” Marla continued.

“I thought of saying 'Sam fish' but the 'zish' sounded better to me,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oi, Zetro!” Charlie called out. “Hands off my girl!”

“Oh, calm down, Charlie,” Marla scoffed. “It's just a little bit of repose before we have a full on banquet.”

“It will be a banquet,” Zetro remarked as he gazed up to the sun and the warm orange light that bathed over all of them. Sam turned her head to find the boy with the tiny white stripe in his hair, who stood about twenty feet away from her. Even in the bright sunlight, which washed over them and to the point of washing out the pale soft color in Aurora's skin, she could make out the sight of that stripe.

So familiar and yet nothing about him fit. There was that one drawing in her other journal which she stashed in Frank's couch, and she only managed to draw out the head and the stripe on his head. But his stripe was tiny, about half the size of her pinky finger and as wide as a match stick; and yet, she could see it from a distance and through such bright light. He squinted his eyes against the sunlight and bowed his head so she could see the smooth crown of his head. Billy loomed next to him with his arms folded across his broad chest.

And then she recalled everything she needed to know about Stormtroopers of Death.

She took a step forward and peered about the street to ensure no one was coming. Before she could even so much as step off the curb, Marla called after her.

“Where you going?”

“Check my money,” she replied with haste.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” Marla's face lit up at the sound of that.

“Get after that money, girlfriend!” Frank called from behind her and Aurora. And without another word, Sam moved at a brisk pace across the darkening pavement to the sidewalk. She followed the sidewalk to the cross walk and then, careful to ensure she wouldn't stray too far away from the group and take the wrong way, she reached the corner. The restaurant itself stood down the block from her; next door to that stood what appeared to be another art shop.

Easy to figure out and still somewhat easy to lose herself in like a wandering stark maze. Through the sunlight, she spotted a silhouette up the street: she lingered over a notch in the pale brick wall that lined the sidewalk next to her. As Sam ducked out of the light and into the shadow, she recogized Zelda's lanky legs and short haircut.

“Zelda!” Sam called out. She pressed something and then she stooped down to take out the money from the slot. She lifted her head and turned in her direction.

“Oh, hey!” she greeted her with a grin on her face; Zelda clutched at the dollar bills and reached behind her back for something.

“Hey, you,” Sam returned the favor. “I have to check something.”

“I gotta get a money order before the bank closes,” Zelda quipped as she adjusted the drum sticks in her pocket.

“You honest to god seriously have to pay his rent?” Sam asked her as she opened her purse.

“Yeah, for real. They're—Legacy, are still in kind of a, uh—I wanna call it a 'settling in phase'. We went through it, too: you try on certain musicians to see if they fit your band and you go forth until one finally does. Louie can't seem to make up his mind because he lives here and they're based out of all the way the out in San Francisco. And in the meantime, there's absolutely no money. The four of us are lucky to make just enough to keep on paying places like the one down the street as well as pay our rent. Louie moved here 'cause their rehearsal space is over here and 'cause the label is over here, too. Anyways, I gotta bounce around the corner—I'll see ya in a little bit!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Zelda darted away from there: the soles of her Chuck Taylors echoed over the sidewalk as she made her way down to the corner, and she ducked around to catch the glass bank doors. Sam turned to the machine nestled in the bricks and she proceeded to check out her account and make sure Charlie and Aurora kept their word. She gasped at the sight of the few hundred dollars injected into her account. It wasn't much, and she believed she would have more than that, but then again, it was a side project of a still fledgling band. And then again, it could keep her head above water with her own rent, and until she entered art school and earned her granted, she could pay back her parents at some point.

She closed it out and returned down the street to join the group, the banquet as Zetro described it.

The restaurant reminded her of one of the places she would see out in the California coast, or out in the desert. The pale yellow lights in the front room had already switched on for the evening, and the warm wooden boards comprising the floor underneath her kept their warmth from the day outside. Lars and James had already taken their seats at the far side of the room, right before the faded floral wall paper and a spindly wrought iron lamp the size of Sam's fist. Cliff towered over them all even there at the far end of the room: his long soft brown hair sprawled across his shoulders like the floppy ears of a dog. He showed Sam a thoughtful little smile when he lay eyes on her: perhaps it was his height or the twinkle in his eye, but there was something big and powerful about him.

Much like the boy with the white stripe in his hair, she noticed a little discoloration at the crown of his head, one that was a faint black and hid underneath the rest of his smooth wavy hair, which sat flat upon his head. Indeed, when she set her hands on the top of the heavy wooden chair next to one of the four tables pushed together so they could all sit together, she thought about the mysterious man in her dreams. He was tall and slim, much like Cliff himself. He had those deepset hypnotic eyes and his face seemed round enough. He had those same sensual lips and he had that same boyish look upon his face.

It was in fact a dream after all: perhaps it was her own memory playing around with it given dreams always changed upon waking, even when she felt she had a good grip on it upon drawing him in her journal, but a thought lingered in the back of her mind when he gazed on at her from their end of the table. She locked eyes with him for only a few seconds but the mystery had unveiled itself to her right before her very eyes. It wasn't a white stripe, but a soft black one set against smooth wavy locks over his shoulders.

She had no idea if Metallica were going to be in New York for much longer, but she needed to wander on closer to this boy. She needed to unravel it a bit more as he looked over at her again, and that time with a soft Mona Lisa smile.

That exact same smile from her dreams.

Sam, Aurora, and Marla all took their spots in between Kirk and Scott, the latter of whom kept a chair vacant between himself and Sam for Zelda. Meanwhile, Joey took his seat next to Scott, and then Frank and Billy took their spots next to Joey. Charlie snuck a place in between Marla and Kirk so he could be closer to her. On the other side of the table, Sam could feel Zetro's feet brush up against her own.

“Hey, watch it,” she scoffed at him, which made him and Eric both laugh out loud. Morgan, Minerva, and Rosita emerged from the front door and joined Eric at the other side of the table and that was when the big dinner party started. All the while, Sam kept her eyes glued onto Cliff, even as he remained out of earshot and he never paid much attention to her. Every so often, out of the corner of her eye, she caught him looking over at her with a thoughtful look on his face. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and she could make out the sight of a fledgling sideburn on the side of his head.

Those little moments of silence and she knew it was him. Even as the room erupted into chatter and laughter, she found her way back to the nothing that made up her dreams. The man from her dreams, right there, right down the table from her; at one point, Lars and Rosita danced together behind Zetro and Eric.

He put his arm around her lower back and swung her hips to and fro to near silence, a little amateur waltz with the noise of the restaurant as their soundtrack. She placed her floppy hat atop his head and James and Kirk both clapped at that.

“Joey, that's your fourth drink so far today,” Scott pointed out over the wall of noise around Sam; given Zelda still hadn't returned, and the whole party was holding off as a result, she could hear him loud and clear right there.

“Yeah, I know,” Joey assured him as he took a sip from the big yellow glass. Sam took a sip herself in unison with him, except she was drinking some of the sweetest pink lemonade she had ever had in her life. Pink lemonade for herself and Marla; Aurora meanwhile sipped away at her tall glass of iced tea. She held onto the lemon wedge with two fingers as if it was about to get away from her. She kept it in her fingers even as the sunlight outside waned out to the impending darkness of nightfall. The street lights came on by the time Zetro had to tell the waitress to hold off a little bit longer for a second time.

“Hey, there she is!” Frank declared. Billy clapped his big bear paws and Sam turned her head to find Zelda stumbling through the front door. She let out a low whistle and slipped past the far right end of the table; meanwhile on the other side of the table, Lars lifted the floppy brim of the hat and showed off the round apple shape of his smiling face.

“Holy shit, where've you been?” Eric asked her as she slithered behind Billy and Frank.

“I had to boogie on down to the complex to pay the rent,” she said in a curt tone; Scott moved his chair forward so she could reach the vacant chair. She wagged her finger at one of the guys at the far end of the table: Sam still needed to learn all their names. Rosita gave Lars a little kiss on the cheek and he hurried back to the other side of the table. Meanwhile, Louie said something and Zelda shook her head.

“It was hell getting a money order,” she told him. “It's kind of my fault 'cause I had been putting it off and I was waiting for the money to come through but—” She shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows in unison. “—more on that later, though.”

Zelda turned to Sam: her face had washed out to a pale milky white color and Sam knew she was hungry.

“Did we all eat yet?” she wondered aloud.

“Not yet, we've been waiting for you, sister,” Scott told her.

“Aw, that's so sweet,” she confessed as she took a big drink from the glass of ice water before her.

Indeed, that waitress returned and they all had the choice of either shepherd's pie or poached salmon; given Aurora had had that vegetarian pho, she was reticent on picking either of them.

“I'll have your fish!” Joey offered her with a lean over the table. Four drinks later and his speech was still very much intact, but if Sam didn't know any better, she could have sworn he had said “I'll have a bitch” instead. The waitress said something to Zetro, and his face lit up.

“Jon and Marsha are footing the bill,” he announced.

“So none of us have to worry 'bout pitching in!” Zelda proclaimed with a clap of her hands. Sam gave her a high five since she had a lingering doubt that she couldn't pitch much.

Within time, their dishes arrived and Zelda was quick to pick up her fork and shovel into her mashed potatoes. Sam didn't realize how hungry she was either, until those creamy potatoes hit her tongue. Quite the contrast with her pink lemonade, but she didn't mind. She was more than content to be there in that restaurant with her new gang of friends and with who may be the proverbial man of her dreams, down the table from her.

As Aurora stood to her feet and snuck behind the pair of chairs so as to give Joey her slab of poached salmon, Sam returned her gaze to Cliff, who had bowed his head over his plate. He held his smooth hair back with his free hand and he shoveled in his shepherd's pie. He was fixated on his plate and nothing else. The poor boy was starving to death.

Kirk said something and Eric spat out his ice water as a result; Zetro, James, and Charlie all burst out laughing at that in turn. But Cliff was focused on feeding himself. Even amongst all the chaos, there he was. Eric wiped off the front of his shirt with his cloth napkin and Kirk stared on at him as if he had just done the worst thing ever. Sam wiped her mouth with her napkin and took one final swig of her lemonade. Hit the spot.

“Now, now, you don't wanna spray out your water,” Kirk advised in a singsong voice and with a wag of his finger, “unless there's a fire. Or a wet T-shirt contest.”

Zelda giggled at that and she picked up another bite of ground beef, peas, and carrots.

“Unless Satch has an idea,” Eric followed up.

“Satch has too many of 'em,” Kirk pointed out. “Fifty of which would include that spit take, too.”

“Satch?” Marla wondered aloud.

“Joe Satriani,” he replied as he tucked a curled black lock behind his ear. “He's the guy who taught me to play guitar. All his students refer to him as 'Satch'. He also taught—” Before Sam could hear a name, Joey gagged on something. He hovered over the table and he waved his hand before his face.

“Oh, shit,” Scott groaned.

“You okay, Joe?” Charlie called out.

Joey clambered to his feet and brushed behind the chairs and the wall behind them. He kept a hand on his throat every step of the way. Sam watched him duck outside with a sickly look on his face.

“I'll go check on him,” she told all of them, and she set her napkin down on the empty plate before her. She brushed behind Zelda, Scott, the empty chair, Frank, and Billy, and she followed Joey out to the street. She caught the sound of him coughing and gagging on something.

He hovered over the storm drain. The only light came from the restaurant behind her and the street lights around them.

“Hang on, Joey—” Sam put her arms around his delicate waist. She was about to thrust back against his stomach but he caught himself.

“No, no, no, no—I got it,” he promised her, and he spat it out on the drain before him. She grimaced at the sound of it but he panted and groaned from it.

“Fish bone,” he said in a broken voice. He paused for a second. “Sump'n's not sittin' well, either.” He straightened himself up and darted up the sidewalk. Sam followed him to make sure he was alright. He ducked behind the art shop next door: even from a distance and through the darkness, she could see a bit of a stagger to his step. He needed to do what he had to do in the dark storm drain before her.

She lingered back and she brought her attention to the sketchbooks and journals and knick knacks in the front window. Like a cozier version of the shop Charlie had taken her to in her first week there in the City.

She returned her attention to the stretch of darkness before her. She had a potential future in art school and yet she needed to check on this boy in front of her. Using the light from the shop and the street lights, Sam rounded the corner to the alleyway where she caught the sight of Joey seated upon an upturned box. Even in the darkness, she could make out the sight of sweat across his brow.

“Note to self,” he started in a broken voice, “don't eat fish with four cups'a hooch at the same time.”

“I don't really think that's a tasty combination to begin with, either,” was all she could think of in response, to which he shook his head.

“Nah. The second the salmon hit my tongue, my stomach did a little turn. But I was still hungry, though. They gave us such small pieces o' fish, I'm surprised Aurora isn't beggin' 'em for a big ass salad in there.”

“Are you okay, though?” Sam took a few steps closer to him for a better look of his face. “Do you need anything?”

“An aspirin. Some mouth wash. Sump'n to settle my stomach.” He reached forward and set his hands on his knees, but then he groaned in pain.

“Oh, shit.”

“What's the matter?”

“It's those delightful pains that come after upchuckin',” he replied as he leaned back against the brick wall behind him. In the dim light, she could make out the sight of him wincing and writhing in discomfort. Those pains were going to be with him with a couple of days: a couple of days to take her mind off of school.

Sam eyed his thighs and his knobby knees in the darkness. Even shrouded in shadow and those faded black jeans, she could tell his thighs were fuller than they appeared to her. She brought her gaze to his hips, followed by his poor stomach and his chest, and then his sinewy arms.

The back door of the art shop creaked open and a tiny sliver of golden light washed over the curls matted across his dark sweaty forehead. He turned his head a bit so the thin ribbon of light spanned over the side of his neck and his collar bone. Stray pieces of his curly hair illuminated in golden yellow; she spotted a small box of old markers down by his feet. She asked him if she could do anything for him at that moment, and at that moment, she didn't have any of those things, however, there was always art. She lunged for the markers and she knelt down before him. The ribbon of light next to her served as her guide as she took out the blue marker.

“Gimme your hand,” she offered him as she squatted in front of him.

“No, Sam—no,” he begged her as he pinched his eyes shut. “I'm tipsy. You're tipsy. I can't. No.”

“Joey, I'm not asking you to kiss me,” she pointed out; gently, she held onto his right wrist with her free hand. “And I'm not tipsy, either—I had lemonade. I want to draw on you.”

“Why ya wanna run some ink over me?” he demanded.

“Because your body is art. I want to touch it and feel it and I want to bring it to the forefront of it all. Let me draw on your skin. Let me do it!”

He grimaced from the aches and pains in his back, but he held still for her. She ran the head of the marker over his hand. Even in the dim light, she could tell it still worked well enough: a band of royal blue crossed his skin, which was taut from all the alcohol and from throwing up in the storm drain. The blue ran over the fine bones making up the interior of his hand, and as a result, she drew diamonds over each of his knuckles which she then followed up with a pair of six leafed lotus flowers on the back of his hand. She filled in the petals with the red marker, which was pristine right out of the box.

“My body is ruined,” he sputtered at the point in which she reached for his left hand.

“It's not ruined,” she insisted. “It's just—dried out, is all.”

“I'm ruined. I'm washed up and already ruined.”

“No. No. Joey, listen to me—you're not ruined. Let me do it. Please—”

She held onto his left wrist with her free hand and started to do the same patterns once again but he jerked his hand back a bit.

“Shit, that tickles,” he mumbled under the blanket of black hair across his face. But she caught him and proceeded to do it again. His skin was so dried out that the head of the marker ran across the back of his hand like the needle leaving behind a tattoo. He cleared his throat and let out a long low whistle.

“You okay?” she asked him, to which she held the marker up over his hand.

“Yeah, I'm just—kinda hot.” She reached up and pushed his black curls out of his face and his eyes. She brushed his bangs back over the top of his head, but they returned into upright form right over his forehead. She held back and the light from the art shop remained over his face: Sam gazed into his large brown eyes, which were clear from his flushing the alcohol out of his system. Beads of sweat lined his brow: if only there was something to help clean him up right then and there.

“Oh, there you guys are!”

She turned her head to find Kirk walking towards them with a glass of water in hand.

“You guys still hadn't come back yet so Scott told me to get him some water if you didn't,” he explained in a single breath.

“Oh, perfect!” she declared, and he handed the glass to her. “Thank you, Kirky.”

“Kirky?” He chuckled at that, and she made out the first sprigs of a mustache forming over his top lip. She shrugged at that.

“That just kinda—slipped out,” she confessed with a shrug. “We'll be back soon enough. I just gotta—finish what I'm doing.”

He patted her on the back and then he doubled back to the sidewalk. Sam returned to him with the glass in hand.

“A guy looks at you like that again, I'm punchin' 'em in the back of the head.”

“No, Joey—please, don't.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. She capped the marker with one hand and glared at him, frustrated.

“You are so full of venom,” she whispered to him.

“For a second, I thought you were gonna say I'm full of shit,” he said, nonchalant; but it made her laugh anyway. A laugh to spite itself.

“Besides, I'm not your girlfriend,” she scoffed. “I can handle boys who look at me like the way Kirk did.” What Aurora said about him popped into her mind right then.

It wasn't the right time for that. Joey also couldn't see her pursing her lips at her own stopping herself right in her tracks, either.

He fetched up a sigh and she adjusted herself on the ground before him. She handed him the glass of water to him.

“Here—”

He raised his head a bit and showed her the bemused look on his face.

“You're dry as a bone, for crying out loud,” she said, “when I was drawing on your hand, the ink went on like it was nothing. Your skin is dry.”

“Dry as a bone,” he sputtered. “Dry as a boner!”

“Joey, drink this,” she persisted, unfazed.

“What is it?”

“It's water. Add to this, you're sweating like a pig and Kirk and Scott wanted to help you.”

Joey's fingers quivered and quaked as he held onto the base of the glass. Sam held onto the glass along with him so he wouldn't spill all over himself: he closed his eyes as he downed the icy cold water in four large gulps. He said he was ruined already, and she began to wonder more about his history prior to joining. She put the markers away and held onto them as she could perhaps use them for herself at some point. But then she returned to Joey as he set the glass in his lap. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and let out a low whistle.

“Why do you beat yourself up so much?” she asked him in a low voice. His brown eyes gazed on at her: in the golden light, she could make out the soft earthy brown color making up those irises. It made her think of dark chocolate.

“I'm kinda the outsider as well as the bachelor,” he explained as his face fell and he dropped his gaze to the dark ground. “I often feel like I'm not even worth it, not even as the lead singer. Like it could all come to an end for me tomorrow and I wouldn't even know how to stop it.”

“Well—you don't have to beat yourself down for it, though,” she pointed out as she shifted her weight again. “You should just enjoy yourself. Enjoy the time that you have with them.”

He raised his eyebrows and brought a thumb to the corner of his mouth.

“Well—if it makes you feel any better, I'm—feeling myself—enjoying the time I have with you,” he confessed at a deliberate rate. He lifted his right hand to the light for a better look at the makeshift tattoo she had given him on the back of his hand. “And thank you for this, too. I don't really see myself being a tattoo guy of any kind but I do like this, though.”

“You know, I have a week before I hear anything from the school if I got in or not,” she suggested, “you wanna—go hang out somewhere together? Just you and me? It won't be a date.”

“'Cause you ain't my girlfriend,” he pointed out.

“Exactly! Like we can do lunch or something. Here in the City or—you can show me a little more of upstate.”

“Oh, yeah, I can take ya to Monticello or wherever...” His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the alleyway behind him. It was a shallow one, filled with boxes of art supplies, some of which still had that clear tape to seal them shut as it glistened in the golden light. That door never budged once in the whole time they were there.

“You wanna talk more about it on the way back to the restaurant?” he suggested to her. “I don't really feel comfortable doin' it here.”

“Sure.” She stood to her feet and tucked the markers into her pocket. She extended her arms out to help him up, and he grimaced and groaned from the aches in his back and his hips. Joey caught himself and he set his free hand on his lower back.

“You okay?” she asked him as she took the empty glass.

“Yeah, just—I'll be sore in the mornin'.”

Gingerly, Sam helped Joey to the sidewalk and they walked at a slow pace back to the restaurant. Zetro, Charlie, and Cliff congregated outside of the front door under a flood light: Charlie's hair glowed a soft silvery color in contrast to all the gold around them.

“Hey, there they are!” Zetro called out and his voice echoed over the pavement.

“Oh, shit, Joey, you alright?” Charlie hurried towards him. Indeed, as they reached better lighting, Sam noticed the color had drained out of Joey's otherwise brown face.

“He barfed but that glass of water Kirk gave him helped a bit, though,” she explained to him.

“Okay, let's get something light into him—” He put his arm around Joey and he helped him back inside there. Zetro ducked behind the corner with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. Sam turned to Cliff, who towered over her like a giant: the light on his soft brown hair only made him appear larger than before.

“I couldn't help but notice you looking at me earlier,” he said in a big booming voice as part of his greeting.

“Well—” Sam hesitated for a second as she searched for the right words. She had only known Metallica for a single day and thus her mind fell blank at the very sight of him. There was no way she could tell him straight up that he was the man of her dreams. “—I haven't gotten a good look at you.”

He chuckled at that and the corners of his eyes crinkled up to resemble the legs of a cockroach. Her heart hammered inside of her chest at the sight of his grin and she knew it. It was him!

“How 'bout you?” he offered her. “Do you need anything? Lars has your purse again.”

“Uh, yes! I'd love to have my purse.”

Cliff showed her that Mona Lisa smile yet again and he ducked into the restaurant. Her eyes wondered to the large front bay window before her, and she caught sight of the boy with the little white plume in his hair, nestled up on the cushion beneath the window. On one hand, she never said a word to him. But then again, he looked alone tucked there in the corner: once again, he sat in the corner by himself. But that time, he had brought his knees up to his chest and he held onto a glass full of lemonade in one hand. Sam peered back at the joined tables, at the four bands congregated together in one huge party, and there was that boy, that young kid, all by his lonesome still. She started to wonder about the sound of his voice again given she only heard him that one time.

It was all a dream and her memory often played with her dreams, as bizarre as they were, hence why she never finished that one drawing. A white stripe in favor of a black one, no matter how faint and buried in that lush, soft looking hair, and hence she knew why. Cliff returned outside with her purse; she thanked him and she could feel the dreams coming true right there. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him again: that time, he took a sip from his lemonade.

She still thought of kissing him. So right and yet so wrong at the same time, especially with Cliff right there.

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