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socketz · 4 years

Text

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy!

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad)

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain.

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant.

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism.

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days.

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse.

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead.

You were nervous, to say the least.

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning.

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you.

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going.

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and-

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up-

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently.

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet.

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk.

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait.

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said.

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile.

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue.

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self.

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?”

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?”

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.”

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?”

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar. Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be.

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace.

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did.

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left.

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up.

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole.

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears.

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it.

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine.

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant.

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk.

“Oh, yeah?” He said.

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said.

“Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.”

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him?

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is.

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him.

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good.

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were starting to grow.

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered.

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.”

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone.

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat.

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders.

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself.

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back.

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one.

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?”

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.”

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame.

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.”

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back.

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.”

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision.

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.”

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife.

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.”

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own.

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood.

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.”

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips.

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you.

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right.

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more.

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features, you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be.

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close.

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come.

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace.

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze.

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you. He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.”

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said.

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.”

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you.

#johnny depp #johnny depp x reader #jd x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #young johnny depp #johnny depp fanfiction #aw #they do be cute

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lord-covfefe · 6 years

Text

White Noise-Chapter 5

Read on Ao3 here

I awoke the next morning alone, rolling over to see some parchment laid on the pillow next to me. Rubbing my eyes, I opened it to see a note in Link’s scratchy but neat handwriting: Here’s to many more rainy nights.

I shifted around in my bed and smiled as the events of the prior night came streaming back into my consciousness. I noted with curiosity that I was slightly sore, my canal drawing a subtle reminder of its recent interactions. I relished in the sensation--though it wasn’t exactly comfortable, there was something secretly titillating about it.

My stomach rolled as I remembered the fullness and thickness of him. The soft, velvety skin of his penis contrasting with the rigidity of its form had never been so vivid as when it first entered me. I was glad that I had a sensation to remember it by in the morning--I wanted his imprint on as much of me as possible.

I laid in bed for quite some time thereafter, drinking in the musk that we had left behind on the sheets and reliving my own deflowering. Looking out the window, I frowned to see a bluebird sky. When can I know him again?

Contentedly, I started to manually explore my own anatomy to learn more about how it fared. Sliding a finger in, I smiled again at the memory of being filled by something much larger.

I then removed it to examine if the consistency of my viscous fluids were the same as they had been before this change. I was shocked to see that there was dried blood on my index!

Sweet Hylia. I suppose I had read something about slight female bleeding the first time…

I pulled back the blankets to see a small spot of blood on my sheets. How mortifying! Hopefully Link had not seen. And, thankfully, I could easily explain it to my chambermaids by saying that my moon’s blood had come in the night.

I was rehearsing that monologue when a knock came at the door. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was well before the usual time Link came to escort me.

“Your highness,” came a woman’s voice from behind the door. “Are you awake?”

Curses. I recognized the voice as belonging to Liesl, my least favorite handmaiden.

“Yes, thank you Liesl,” I answered. “I will be ready to dress in just a moment.”

“Your Father has summoned you, and requests your presence immediately. Today we shall dress you simply, as must needs haste.”

My stomach dropped. There was no way we could have been heard, or seen. Was there? I suppose we left the window open...suppose a guard had strayed close to the walkway outside my room…

I wanted nothing more than to crawl under my covers and never come out. I am quite accustomed to ignoring my own wants, however.

I got up, smoothed the bed as much as possible, and opened the door to let Liesl in.

I cannot know if it was my imagination, or if she peered at my terrific bedhead with suspicious eyes.

I tried to calm my voice and swallowed the lump in my throat. Feigning calm, I chirped, “Do you know what he has summoned me to discuss?”

“He did not say,” she replied, her voice flat and stony. “My orders are simply to bring you to him as quickly as possible.

I took pleasure, for a brief moment, in imagining the terse Liesl running from a flock of cuccos. An incensed flock of cuccos.

Alas, daydreams of loud squawking from both parties would do nothing to stop the wrath of my Father, if he was summoning me for the reason I feared.

Liesl was fastening one of my silk stockings when she stopped, staring at something.

“Your highness, what is this bruise? It looks rather fresh.”

I glanced down, seeing a purpleing mark on my thigh that I knew to be the work of hungry hands. Hands belonging to the wielder of the Master Sword.

I swallowed.

“We rode quite briskly to get inside before the storm yesterday evening. I must have exerted myself a little too hard.”

She took another look at the bruise and continued to fasten the stocking.

“Your highness should be more careful. Perhaps your travel britches allow for too lively a riding style.”

To stop myself from rolling my eyes, I blinked hard.

“I will be sure to be more delicate next time. I do think I can manage that in trousers.”

We remained in silence until at last I was fully dressed in a simple gown fit for every day court life. I practically ran out the door, terrified of the audience with my father but glad to get away from the cantankerous maid.

Walking down the hallway leading to the throne room, I attempted some of the breathing exercises Link had taught me and stared at the scenes on the tapestries to occupy my mind. Each time a menacing what if appeared in my mind I would fixate on some scene, instead mentally reciting the history I knew of each one.

The hero of twilight battling a dragon, high above the ground in a long-lost sky city. A tall sheikah woman atop a horse with the young princess Zelda. Banished...or worse…

I looked down at the crimson carpet below my feet and then back up at the tapestries.

A wild contraption that had been constructed along the ancient sealing grounds that sadly, we no longer know the name for. Another relic lost to obscurity in the harsh sands of time.

Finally, I arrived at the throne room. I did not dally by the door as to not give my worries any more attention than they had already enjoyed. The only way to find out was to find out.

The two guards at the door, seeing my approach, announced me as I walked into the sanctum. The sallow sunlight streaming in from high windows appeared as columns of light thanks to the motes of dust that freely drifted.

I entered quickly, attempting to jostle out my nerves with physical movement.

I saw that Link already stood before my Father and I swallowed, torn between the lurching of my heart at his golden hair and the lead in my stomach at the implications of him being here.

His face was completely blank, not even a drop of anxiety. He rather seemed more resolute than normal, completely prepared to face whatever was coming with honor. He looked at me and crinkled his eyes for just a brief moment, sending me a private message. Sweet Din. How could he be flirting at a time like this?

He was calm and collected, flirting even! Triforce of courage indeed. Meanwhile, I was a quavering bundle of nerves amassing in a being known as Zelda.

The hall finally settled and my Father cleared his throat. The silence fell deeper still.

“Zelda. Link. Young ones,” he boomed. His voice still grated on me with the memory of his dressing down the day before. “These are grave times. The stakes are high, and the price of failure is steep. Omens are everywhere. Just last night the moon seemed to turn a foul shade of crimson and seemed to be casting down an angry look from the sky. Grave times indeed,” he dithered on.

Half of my life had been spent listening to his half-baked proclamations of doom. He churned out several more minutes of self-indulgent catastrophizing when he finally arrived at the point. I tuned back in.

“And so, with all this in mind, I am bitterly disappointed to hear that this Calamity is not being treated with the gravitas that it so sorely requires.”

My stomach dropped even further. I wished that the floor of the sanctum would split and I could fall down into the ground.

I would take responsibility for it all. I would say that it was all my doing, Link could not refuse me, I was his sovereign, he had nothing to do with it. I opened my mouth to say so--

“I have received information that on your visit to Zora’s Domain, you spent much time tinkering away in Vah Ruta, alone. This is unacceptable. You are not to leave your knight protector’s side, under any circumstances. Your person is the most crucial element in Ganon’s defeat. Sir Link, this is the last time I will say this without consequence--the princess does not leave your sight, no matter how she protests. That is a direct order.”

Link bowed his head.

“Yes, your majesty.”

I felt dizzy and had an urgent need to sit. Thank you Hylia! At least for this!

“Good. It is settled. Now,” my Father continued. “The matter I called you here to discuss. We have received intelligence that several star fragments have fallen in the area surrounding the Spring of Power. I believe this is a divine sign, an indication of the goddess’ presence on those grounds. You two will depart today for the Spring, as soon as you are ready. I expect this task will be treated with respect,” he said, giving both of us the hairy eyeball.

Neither of us said anything, but both offered solemn nods. Well, at least Link was surely solemn. I was still agog and trembling like a deer at our brush with disaster.

We both turned on our heels and left, Link settling into his place three places behind me. I took ten deep breaths, attempting to reclaim some measure of calm.

#zelink #botw #breath of the wild #zelink fanficiton #botw fanfiction #fanfiction #zelink smut #loz fanfiction

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Life After Re:Mind: A Personal Post-Mortem on Kingdom Hearts III

I’ve been on the Kingdom Hearts roller coaster for almost its entire run. For the uninitiated, that’s about 18 years, approximately eight games across five different platforms (not even counting all the re-releases), technically a movie, and an ongoing mobile game’s worth of my gaming dedicated to this one franchise. The iconic, almost infamous Disney x Square Enix mashup has certainly made its mark on the industry in its long history, and its most recent entry—Kingdom Hearts III—stood out as a highly-anticipated title with 13 years of build-up and six years of development.

While the state of its completion upon launch was rather questionable, a DLC add-on was rolled out almost a year later to fill in some of the gaps. Re:Mind was released on January 23 as a supplemental story that sought to provide further insight into the narrative and paint a more complete picture. It even added some new content and playable elements to boot.

For all intents and purposes, Re:Mind brings the story of KH3 to a close. But how well does it do that? Rather than simply review the DLC, I’d like to take a deep dive (pun intended) into how complete the game feels now. As a hopelessly-devoted Kingdom Hearts fan who wanted so much more out of KH3 initially, I went into Re:Mind hoping for the package to be more substantial. In many ways, Re:Mind delivers on its promise of a fuller experience. But from what I’ve played thus far, I’m still not very confident in saying that the game as a whole is in any way perfect.

But before we even get to Re:Mind, I should talk about my thoughts on the base game. After about a year of careful consideration, my reaction is lukewarm at best.

**MAJOR SPOILERS FOR KINGDOM HEARTS III BELOW**

I have to admit that those first couple of hours were magical. With so many installments touting completely different play styles, KH3 had a strong start. It began as a return to form for the franchise, combining its classic action-RPG gameplay with some of the best mechanics from other games in the series. I felt that my patience, tenuous as it was, was rewarded with a gameplay experience that was both nostalgic and refreshing.

But when that initial charm wore off and the game progressed, it started to take a bit of a nose dive. Its enormous worlds had almost nothing in them and the dazzling gameplay became so broken that I don’t think I got a Game Over throughout the entire story. Not to mention there were fan favorite characters that saw little to no spotlight, and the conclusion to the long-running Xehanort Saga that director Tetsuya Nomura promised us left more questions than answers.

I won’t say I hated it. Seeing characters like Terra, Roxas, and Xion make a comeback during the climax was so emotionally gratifying that I can barely think about those scenes without crying. With so many characters having been resigned to grim fates throughout the series, it was all too satisfying to see some happy endings go around. But even then, it was missing far too much to be among my favorite Kingdom Hearts games.

If you compare it to any other title in the franchise content-wise, KH3 was a barebones and almost empty affair that left much to be desired. The final chapter proved to be lackluster with its shockingly unchallenging clip show of bosses from games past and a last world that was barely explorable. And the bittersweet cherry on top came as Sora disappeared by the end of the Keyblade War while his friends were alive and well, an ending that was far too hard to swallow for a story that has long deserved a real and honest conclusion.

Re:Mind, in its entirety,sought to change at least some of this. This three-part DLC package (three parts that I know of, at least) promised to deliver more playable characters, a deeper insight into the story, more real gameplay challenges, and a glimpse into the future of Kingdom Hearts. I’ve played and struggled through the first two (Re:Mind and Limited Cut), and am currently working on conquering the third (Secret Episode). But I have plenty to say on the matter already.

I’ll go in order, starting with Re:Mind itself. As a retelling of the final chapter, this first episode went into further detail on Sora’s journey to rescue Kairi’s heart after she perished by Xehanort’s hand. His own heart traveled back through time to collect pieces of Kairi, passing through every Keyblade wielder during their final respective battles, which lent itself to allowing the player to take control of different characters and use their abilities.

This was, without a doubt, my favorite part of the DLC. It gave me everything I wanted out of the conclusion of KH3. It wasn’t difficult to get used to any of the new characters (gameplay translates rather consistently between each of them), but it was so exciting to have some of my favorites take an active part in the final conflict and truly helped to raise the emotional impact of their returns.

The big team-up between every Keyblade Master and Mickey Mouse’s unyielding efforts to fight back the darkness with his dwindling strength easily served as some of the most powerful gameplay moments in the entire series. It gave me the same kind of vibes I would get from watching epic anime battles ala Gurren Lagann or My Hero Academia. Characters from across the series overcame severe hardships in order to arrive at one last fight against Xehanort, which resulted in an immensely satisfying conclusion for the supporting cast.

What made this first part work was how it directly addressed some of the flaws of KH3’s denouement. While working its way into the main story, it was able to course correct much of the narrative payoff it tried to achieve the first time around. It was more than just Sora, Donald, and Goofy fighting one more evil person. It gave everyone a chance to shine and allowed its fans to be directly involved in seeing their stories through. Is it a perfect game after Re:Mind’s first chapter? Far from it. Do I lament that this content wasn’t available at launch? You bet I do. But Re:Mind itself was exactly the climax I wanted one year ago, and getting it now certainly counts for something in my book.

The same can hardly be said for what comes after.

Upon completing Re:Mind, you unlock the Limited Cut. Taking place one year after the main story, Riku and company have worked tirelessly trying to track down Sora with nothing to show for it. While trying to compare notes with Radiant Garden’s crew of Final Fantasy characters, they discover a strange collection of old Organization XIII data, and compile a digitized version of Sora to investigate it. This results in a gauntlet of bosses that pits you against beefed-up versions of the Organization members. And these fights are substantially more difficult than anything that the base game had to offer.

This could’ve been a good thing. One of the major complaints I had with the initial KH3 release was that you could very easily unlock combat abilities that were nigh-invincible and easily tore through any enemy the game threw at you, even final bosses and secret enemies. By and large, these new bosses offered no such luxury.

Reminiscent of KH2:FM, each Organization member required their own strategy and featured original gimmicks that you had to overcome. Almost none were so simple as “mashing the X button so you could press the Triangle button so you can mash X better.” This collection of newer bosses would’ve been nice to add as a secret room where you could test your abilities, and I certainly felt like a champion conquering them one by one. But it fails when you include it as a linchpin to the rest of the story.

Limited Cut presents itself as a legitimate continuation of Kingdom Hearts. In other words, surmounting this glut of superbosses was a requirement in order to know the rest of the story. That isn’t how superbosses should work. I enjoy being challenged with sidequests and extra content in any Kingdom Hearts game, but not when it serves as a barrier barring me from actual narrative. In the past, secret bosses were optional challenges that you could take on, where you’d be rewarded with extra scenes if you beat them. What came after Limited Cut hardly felt worth it. There were cutscenes to be had and I did learn something new in terms of what Riku must do to save Sora, but having to tear my hair out through several difficult bosses just for that one fact was the furthest thing from a fair tradeoff.

In fairness, that wasn’t all I got from beating Limited Cut. It granted me access to the Secret Episode, but that’s an entirely different beast as of now.

As the episode begins, we miraculously find Sora alive and well, albeit stranded in the Final World. He soon encounters a mysterious young man named Yozora (who you might remember from the Toy Box gag commercial and the original secret ending). Strangely enough, Yozora had been asked to “save Sora,” though his version of it seemed to involve drawing his weapon against him. So ensues one of the toughest, almost confusing boss battles I’ve ever encountered in Kingdom Hearts.

As of writing, I still have yet to defeat Yozora. I hope to do so soon just to see if anything comes after. If the secret content of previous games is any indication, it probably won’t be too much, but the potential of narrative compels me to see it through to the end. And that simply compounds the problem that the content after the main story seems to have.

There’s a stark difference between beating a regular boss to further the story and beating secret bosses to further the story. This unrelenting test of my skills feels more like a requirement for my KH3 experience rather than just a side challenge. The sense of accomplishment I might get from overcoming these enemies is diminished when you replace hidden content with vague and mandatory narrative as a reward. Of course I want to know more about what’s happening in the story, but having to work this hard for it has proven to be rather unappetizing.

The way I see it, the entire DLC package of Re:Mind worked at its best when it played into the game it’s attached to. The first chapter doesn’t fix all of the base game’s problems, but I found a much greater sense of gratification in seeing characters I’ve followed for years get a redo for their long-deserved epic comebacks. Unfortunately, it began to lose me as soon as the DLC started to stray away from the core experience.

As I mentioned before, Tetsuya Nomura promised us an ending to this saga of the Kingdom Hearts story. Even if the series continues from here, as it undoubtedly will, I still wanted that one decisive ending before moving on. I didn’t get it the first time around, what with the ambiguous final scene and two secret endings in the base game. Limited Cut and Secret Episode brought me even further from it, while kicking my ass to boot.

I wasn’t so naive as to think that Kingdom Hearts was ever going to end. The whole reason why I got the DLC in the first place was because I wanted more of it. When all's said and done, Re:Mind reflected my initial experience with Kingdom Hearts III. The first few moments dazzled me, but despite its best efforts and toughest challenges, there still remains so much more that could be done to salvage this game in its current, seemingly final, iteration.

Have you beaten Re:Mind yet? Which secret boss gave you the most trouble? Let us know in the comments!

----

Carlos is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. Their favorite genres range from magical girls to over-the-top robot action, yet their favorite characters are always the obscure ones. Check out some of their satirical work on The Hard Times.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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bentonpena · 4 years

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I spent 4 days on the longest train ride in North America, and I wouldn't hesitate to do the entire 96-hour trip again

I spent 4 days on the longest train ride in North America, and I wouldn't hesitate to do the entire 96-hour trip again http://bit.ly/2L47rV8

I traveled for four days on the longest train journey in North America, which takes passengers between Toronto and Vancouver, British Columbia.

The ride took a little more than 96 hours to complete, which included about 10 stops and the time we spent waiting for freight trains to pass us.

I was nervous about being alone on a train for so long (without WiFi!), but I discovered that my worrying was for nothing.

There were plenty of sights to see, people to meet, activities to participate in, and cabins to explore.

While it certainly wasn't as quick or convenient as flying, the train was definitely more exciting.

If you've got the time, and you're looking for the trip of a lifetime that's more about the journey than the destination, this sleeper train is perfect.

The trip changed my mind about train travel — I think it's a really great option for anyone looking for a family trip, couples retreat, or solo trip.

Visit Business Insider's homepage for more stories.

With my carry-on-size luggage and backpack full of cameras, I headed to Union Station in Toronto to begin my 96-hour journey — a little more than four days — across Canada on The Canadian train.

I was about to traverse the iconic Great Western Way route from Toronto to Vancouver, British Columbia. At nearly 2,800 miles, it's the longest train route in North America and a bucket-list trip for almost every traveler I spoke with along the way.

I did a ton of research going into the trip, but I still had no idea what to expect when it came to the actual experience. With no WiFi and little cell service, I thought I'd spend most of my time bored in my cabin.

But after meeting loads of interesting people, seeing the Canadian countryside out my window, and dining on board, I understood why this is such an iconic trip for travelers of all ages.

Read more: I took a 4-day trip on the longest train ride in North America, and these mesmerizing sights made the 96 hours worth it

The train makes seven scheduled stops along the way: Sudbury Junction in Ontario, Sioux Lookout in Ontario, Winnipeg in Manitoba, Saskatoon in Saskatchewan, Edmonton in Alberta, Jasper in Alberta, and Kamloops in British Columbia.

But first, I'd have to board in Toronto. Union Station is monstrous, and it looks more like a courthouse than a train station from the outside.

I made my way to the Via Rail lounge for all business-class travelers — my Sleeper Plus class ticket fell under the business classification. This class of ticket can run travelers up to $6,000, depending on time of year, and includes all onboard meals and one of three seating arrangements that turn into beds.

I checked in at the lounge entrance and, while still at the station, made my reservation for dinner with a crew member. Everyone was friendly and helpful from the get-go.

As crew members announced that it was time to board, we were all led through the station to the Via Rail platform, where the train was waiting for us. I looked around and everyone was smiling — they all looked excited for the almost 100 hours ahead.

I was directed to my cabin for two, where I put down my suitcase and took off some of my many cold-weather layers. When I first opened the door, I was surprised at how much the cabin actually looked like the brochure. The seats were bright, and the leather didn't look too worn ...

… and there was a shelf above the sink with what I'd call "spa soap."

The toilet was in its own "annex" — a more sophisticated name for "little toilet room," as I called it.

The bed is folded up during the day, and when it comes down from the wall at night, the tan chairs fold down underneath it. If there were a second person staying in the cabin with me, their bed would be pulled down from the ceiling to resemble a top bunk.

The bed was nearly 6 feet long and less than 3 feet wide. Even with it down, there was enough room to keep my suitcase out, stand at the sink, and open the annex door. Having a second person in the room would have felt cramped.

Train staff provided beautiful turn-down service nightly, which included a piece of good-night chocolate placed on the comforter. Every morning, usually while I was at breakfast, they came around to change the sheets and put all the beds away.

But, if you want to hold off on pulling down or putting away the bed, you can leave the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside your door.

Getting ready for bed was pleasant with the little sink and toilet annex conveniently in my room. I even had a miniature night table above my head for my water and glasses.

I was able to plug my phone in to charge as I watched the "Gossip Girl" episodes I downloaded before I boarded in Toronto. Thankfully, the charger reached my bed from the outlet.

The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and I got four fairly decent nights of sleep throughout the entire trip.

Above the set of mirrors, I found a shower kit with a towel, soap, and shampoo.

There was no shower in my cabin, but there was a municipal one for everyone in my car to share. It was just seven steps down the hall from my cabin. I never noticed a line for the shower.

The actual shower area was surprisingly spacious. The room had a single shower, a ledge for clothing and a bag ...

... and a "towel disposal" for my used towel. That was nice because it meant I didn't need to take it back to my room and figure out where to hang it.

Overall I was impressed with my cabin, and it made me wonder what other sleeping arrangements looked like.

When I explored the rest of the train, I got to see how my mates were traveling. Starting from my business-class Sleeper Plus car near the back, I walked toward the front of the train.

Walking through a few more Sleeper Plus cars, I passed cabins for one, which consisted of a single bench, a Murphy bed that folded down over the bench, and a toilet that doubles as a table.

There were also berth alcoves around the corner — a lower-cost ticket option from a cabin — made up of a pair of couches facing each other during the day ...

... that turn into a bunk-bed-style sleeping arrangement for the night. These beds are slightly shorter but wider than the cabin mattresses.

Finally, I made my way to economy class — the low-cost-ticket option. There was a sign on the door between cars that read "Economy Class Passengers Only Beyond This Point," but I just walked through.

Walking through the economy Skyline car — a lounge car for passengers — I could tell from the torn seats and fading teal color of the leather that it was not as nice as the business-class Skyline car.

But economy was still a pretty sweet setup. Seats reclined decently, and they had pop-up footrests. I noticed that some passengers claimed sets of seats facing each other and made a full bed for themselves.

Most of the people I talked to in economy, though, said they were traveling for only part of this iconic route. Josh Barrett, seen here, was traveling for just three hours, so he didn't need to reserve a Sleeper ticket.

Some travelers, like Bobbi-Marie Sandberg, seen here, did sleep in their seats. She was traveling home with her 3-year-old son and spent a total of 32 hours on board.

Economy passengers have access to a lofted dome seating area in their Skyline car. But the partially cloth seats and faded colors made it look a bit more tired than the one I used in business class.

The Skyline car in business class had new-looking leather seats and a more modern color scheme. Eager passengers started to file in before we even pulled away from the platform in Toronto.

A major draw of this trip for passengers is the promise of stunning views. The best way to enjoy those views is through the elevated window dome of the Skyline car.

Even more immersive than the observation deck in the Skyline car was the Panorama car, but it wasn't added to the train until we approached Rocky Mountain territory more than halfway through the trip.

Via Rail staff said this car travels only between Edmonton and Vancouver, as it's the most scenic leg of the trip.

As the train started to move, Colin — the staff member assigned to look after the folks in my Skyline car — came around with welcome mimosas and introduced himself.

The glass-covered section of the Skyline car filled up quickly in Ontario. I found myself sitting at one of two small rectangular tables with three strangers who, after a minute, were no longer strangers at all. The friendly introductions and echoes of "you can sit with us" filled the car the entire trip.

The first moments of my trip were filled with conversations about cameras, which turned out to be great icebreakers.

Because of the visual nature of this journey, I wasn't surprised to find that many of my train mates were camera buffs. Randy Barba and Russell Kanhai each had their collections of lenses and cameras with them.

They even gave me tips on how I could get the best pictures on mine, like putting the lens right up against the window to minimize reflections.

While I was able to get some beautiful shots of the orange, yellow, and red leaves ...

Read more: I took a 4-day trip on the longest train ride in North America, and these mesmerizing sights made the 96 hours worth it

... most of my photos ended up looking like this blurry mess.

My trip was smack-dab in the middle of October, so the environment was bright and at its peak autumn-ness.

The crew said if we wanted to get any red trees in our pictures, day one was the only day to do it. So everyone spent the first day snapping photos out the window, myself included.

Thinking the sunrise would be stunning, I woke up at 6 a.m. each day of my journey and headed to the Skyline car. Alas, it was too cloudy on most mornings, but we did get one glowing sunrise by the end of the trip.

The comfortable leather seats of the observation area were great for socializing. I learned more and more about my train buddies the longer I sat there.

There was Carina Clarsson, who is a rather spontaneous solo traveler from Sweden ...

... Stuart and Kathy Halson, a couple who came from Washington to cross this trip off their bucket list ...

... and Randy and Jeanette Barba of Toronto. Randy told me that, as a railway enthusiast, "How could [he] not want to do something like this?"

Another opportunity to meet people was during mealtime in the dining car, which looked exactly like it did in the brochure.

Leather-bound menus, beautiful dishware, and lovely tablescapes greeted passengers as we sat down.

For each meal, the maître d' seated me at a table with three totally new people. It was cool to hear everyone's stories: Benoit, seen here, was in the middle moving from Montreal to Vancouver.

My first impression of the food on board was at brunch — I ordered banana-bread French toast and was not disappointed. Of course, my waiter insisted on topping off my welcome mimosa.

From 6:30 a.m. until 8:30 a.m. passengers can order from the continental breakfast menu. I ordered the yogurt and berries each morning and carried it to the Skyline car, where I ate under the early-morning clouds.

Daily specials and accommodating kitchen staff made up each of my 11 dining experiences on the train. Other brunches included brie-stuffed omelets, vegetarian hash topped with eggs, and fried-chicken BLT sandwiches with a side of pancakes.

The kitchen staff humored me and my strange ordering ways. What can I say? I wanted to try everything, so I always asked for a small bit of another meal listed on the menu. Everything came out exactly the way I asked for it.

I was really impressed with the food as well as the wine pairings at dinner. Each dish on the menu had an icon suggesting a wine for an ideal taste. Meals were included in the price of our tickets, but alcohol and snacks were not.

When we stopped at Winnipeg, we still had two full days left on the train. I was constantly getting hungry in between meals, so we used the stop to visit the wine store and snack stand at the Forks Market, just a few minutes' walk from the train station.

Candy seemed like the logical choice of snack here.

But every other day there was either a complimentary wine or beer tasting. During the tastings, we all pretended like we were professionals and gave our harshest opinions, but we still finished every last drop.

We had a sampling of some local Canadian wine after dinner one day ...

... which concluded with a musical performance by Andy Du Rego of Black Suit Devil, the selected musician for this trip as part of Via Rail's artists-on-board initiative.

Andy told me the initiative allows musicians who want to travel across the country to hop on board for free and provide musical entertainment for passengers along the way.

As Andy played on that first night, I watched everyone get more and more lively as the hours grew later. I quickly learned this was shaping up to be a late-night crowd.

We stayed up in the dome of the Skyline car looking at the sky, hoping to see stars, but it was too cloudy.

Even crew members stayed up late with us, telling us stories about how the train has changed in the past year — there have been schedule updates, which fixed the issue of frequent 24-hour-plus delays.

Aside from my section's Skyline car, passengers were able to hang out in the Park car — a first-class lounge that's off-limits to business-class travelers until 4 p.m. daily. The area features high tables and a bar ...

... and couches with a view out the back of the train. Passengers can sit and watch the track disappear out the rear window.

The dome part of the Park car was always off-limits to anyone who wasn't a first-class traveler. It looked exactly the same as the one in my Skyline car, though, so I didn't understand why it was so exclusive.

I was happy to go back to my dedicated Skyline car and listen to everyone discuss and debate countless topics as we passed through beautiful yet scenically repetitive prairies.

As we got more familiar with one another, people from all different backgrounds told tales of their past travels. And, of course, everyone came together to talk politics.

Political talk was mostly about with the upcoming Canadian election, but the train was filled with global travelers, so conversation shifted from one world leader to the next quite frequently.

I love learning about people and different points of view, so hearing everyone explain their perspectives was my favorite part of the entire experience.

Another part of the trip I liked was whenever we were able to get out and stretch our legs. It was cold and rainy at most stops, but the small dose of fresh air was always much-needed.

Via staff told us that if a traveler didn't make it back to the train on time, it would leave the station without them. So most of the time, we had just enough of a window to hop out and snap some photos.

Some stations were more popular than others for travelers who were starting or ending their trips. Passengers can also request to be dropped off at smaller nonscheduled stations and even request to be let out on the side of the tracks if they want, but that's usually just people going camping.

The time you get at any stop is never guaranteed. When the train is trying to make up time, the staff will cut stops short whenever possible. Instead of the four hours we thought we'd have in Jasper, we got only 45 minutes.

Delays in the schedule came mostly from waiting for freight trains to pass by, which share the tracks and have priority over Via Rail.

Even with delays, we ended up pulling into Vancouver on time. Everyone had to be off the train by 8:30 a.m., so I had about two hours to pack up and get breakfast, but part of me wanted just a few more hours on board.

While the journey was long, filled with very dry recirculated air that made my nose bleed, and just generally exhausting, I really understood why so many people dream of crossing Canada on The Canadian.

From the sights to the friendships and the experience of riding an endangered mode of travel, I saw it as an amazing trip and one I wouldn't hesitate to do again.

Read more about my journey on the longest train route in North America:

I took a 4-day trip on the longest train ride in North America, and these mesmerizing sights made the 96 hours worth it

I spent 96 hours on a train from Toronto to Vancouver, and crossing 4 time zones was more disorienting than I ever expected

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