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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4

⚠WARNING: Swearing, mention of previous characters' deaths

• ────── ✾ ────── •

“I just don’t get why no one wants to help me plan the shrine visit and picnic lunch.” Oikawa pushes his now-empty plate away and turns his head. You share a look with Makki and Mattsun.

“We just don’t want to get in the way of your vision.” Mattsun replies. “You’re the most creative of us all and we don’t want to bog you down.”

Oikawa only glances towards Mattsun before glancing at you and Makki. You both put on your most sincere faces, hoping to placate your irritated friend. It seems to do the trick, as he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Well of course I’m the most creative. I guess I can plan everything and tell you all what to do.”

You smile at Oikawa, nodding. “That sounds good.” You enjoy the last bit of your dinner, keeping your eyes on your plate.

Since Hajime’s passing, there’s been a visible gap in your friend group. It’s not a gap that can easily be replaced or filled, but the balance of your group has been thrown way off course.

Makki and Mattsun try to lighten things up with jokes but most of the time they fall flat. And it’s not fair to always depend on them to keep the mood light when they can’t muster the energy to do it.

Most of the time you’ve remained silent on the outings. You’ll laugh at the jokes from Makki and ask everyone about their days, but nine times out of ten you’re hindered by the absence of Hajime to make meaningful conversation.

Surprisingly, the most consistent of your friends is Oikawa. But since there’s no Iwa-chan to reign him in, he has become the leader of your group - making plans, driving conversation and trying to keep your group from falling apart. The only problem is that Oikawa has utilized more...forceful tactics to get what he wants.

“For lunch tomorrow we’ll have to meet somewhere by the gym because I have training in the afternoon.” Oikawa states later, while everyone is leaving the restaurant. “And we have to get salads or something similar, I can’t eat anything heavy before.”

You send a quick glance to Mattsun, pleased to see Makki holding his boyfriend’s hand tightly. Of everyone Mattsun is the one who snaps back against Oikawa the most, unwilling to deal with his antics. Makki is the best at keeping him calm while you would try to keep Oikawa from escalating the issue.

“Oh, I can’t meet tomorrow, sorry. I’m getting lunch with my friend.”

Your friends all give you questioning looks - Makki and Mattsun look more excited (and ready to tease you if necessary.) But Oikawa narrows his eyes.

“Is this the same friend you ditched us for lunch yesterday and today?” His tone is accusatory and you inwardly sigh. So it’s going to be this kind of night.

“Yes.” You don’t want to beat around the bush but you don’t want to antagonize your friend with smart-ass answers. “He wanted to get lunch again so I agreed, I wouldn’t if we were planning on getting lunch.”

Oikawa scoffs. “You should always plan on getting lunch with us, Y/N.”

“Oikawa I think you’re skipping over an important detail.” Makki steps in, inadvertently stopping Oikawa from going off on you. But before you can relax he turns to you with a shit-eating grin. “You’re meeting with a guy?”

Shit.

Mattsun appears over Makki’s shoulder, giving a similar smirk. “Please elaborate, Y/N-chan. Who are you meeting with?”

“And when can we expect an introduction?”

You give Makki an annoyed look at his extra question. “His name is Osamu, and we worked on a project together for one of our classes. We worked well together so we decided to get lunch. It’s no big deal.” Your last sentence is directed to Makki and Mattsun, both waggling their eyebrows.

Despite their childish behavior you’d take it every day over Oikawa’s snide attitude.

“Osamu, huh?” Oikawa looks down at you with his head tilted to the side questionably. “How come this is the first we’ve heard about him?”

You shrug. “It’s no big deal, Oikawa. Don’t be a jerk.”

“Hey I’m just wondering why you never wanted to tell us about him.” He held his hands up innocently. “Are you keeping other secrets from us perhaps?”

You feel your eyes narrow and you can’t help but let a little venom into your words. “I’m not keeping secrets, Oikawa. Osamu and I worked on a project together, he found out about Hajime and I found out that he lost his twin brother, so maybe I’ve found another friend who I can relate to.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen marginally at the mention of Hajime and he doesn’t reply. His hands lower and he looks off to the side. You see Makki and Mattsun stiffen before Mattsun steps closer to his boyfriend.

It’s no wonder that people tell you not to joke about death or dying. It’s easy for people who haven’t understood how devastating the loss of a loved one is to make those simple jokes, because they’ve never experienced the instant the mood of a group plummets. It’s a powerful weapon, made to bring the strongest down a few notches. It’s one you wouldn’t ever use unless absolutely necessary, and even this time mentioning how you and Osamu were able to bond over your shared trauma was a slip made out of anger. But it was effective in shutting Oikawa up.

“Oh.” Makki says into the stifling silence. Oikawa still hasn’t looked away from the ground and now you feel guilty again for bringing the mood down. Twice in two days is not a record you wanted to make. Makki speaks up again. “That’s so sad, how did you find out about that?”

Here is where you hesitate, because you can’t say that you were texting Hajime’s old phone number and serendipitously the stranger receiving those messages not only is a student at the same university you attend but also lost someone close to him, and you agreed to meet with him for coffee after five minutes of your “meeting.”

“I think it just came up organically,” you reply, hoping you sound somewhat nonchalant with your fabricated explanation. “I don’t really remember the conversation exactly.”

“Huh.” Mattsun says. “Well if you guys are going to hang out more maybe see if he wants to come to our group therapy sessions. The next one’s in a few days.”

At this Oikawa whips his head up and glares at Mattsun. He doesn’t say anything in response to Mattsun’s suggestion but he looks livid. Mattsun in turn meets Oikawa glare with his signature, unaffected gaze.

“Okay, we’re gonna head out now.” Makki grabs his boyfriend’s arm and steers him towards their apartment. “Oikawa, we’ll text you about lunch tomorrow. Y/N, I want all the details from your ~date~”

“It’s not a date!” You call, but Makki doesn’t reply save for a little hand wiggle he sends over his shoulder. You sigh out loud and shake your head at your friends’ antics.

You turn to your silent companion, who has taken to glaring at the ground again. “Are you ready to leave?” He doesn’t answer you, not even nodding in agreement, but he stands straight and you both move together towards your apartment buildings.

Oikawa speaks up after a few blocks of walking in silence. “Did Osamu really lose his brother?”

“Excuse me?” You turn to your friend, appalled at such a question. “Are you really fucking asking if he was lying?”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Oikawa doesn’t meet your angry gaze but his voice has lost its disapproving tone. “Some idiots will lie to get sympathy or try to connect and get closer to you. It’s fucked up.”

Still feeling aggravated you turn forward and roll your shoulders. “I guess. But you didn’t see him. You’d have to be blind to take one look and think he’s okay.” His tired face pops into your head again, the look of a person just trying to scrap by one day at a time. It hurts to think about.

“Do you like him?”

You turn back to your friend, angry again, to see him giving you a calculated look. There’s something else there too, almost something like indignant hurt.

You know why he’s looking at you like that and it makes something in your stomach twist.

Oikawa is the only other person to know of your love for Hajime. He pried it from you years ago but had sworn on his own hair products that he wouldn’t tell a soul. In spite of Oikawa’s general obnoxiousness and seemingly fictitiousness, deep down he’s a very loyal friend. And even though he knew one of your deepest secrets, you knew it was safe with him.

But he badgered you for days on end to confess to Hajime and every time you told him no. He was annoyingly persistent, but not once did he say well what now? after Hajime passed.

You missed that annoying weirdo. You don’t like the possessive, mean and cruel Oikawa that’s taken his place.

“I don’t like him like that, Oikawa.” You say now, turning back ahead first this time. “He’s just a friend.”

You feel Oikawa’s gaze on you still but you don’t look back. He doesn’t say another word to you, save for a short remark when you leave to go into your apartment building.

“Have fun on your date tomorrow.”

He drops that line and walks away, leaving you to stare after your friend with your gut twisting.

Why does he have to do this?

Insecurity, jealousy, anger, depression - maybe a mix of all four and more. It’s partly why you’re giving him a pass for now.

Your phone pings when you get into your apartment, and you feel the tension from the day leave your body when you lock the door. You feel wrung out and you honestly just want to sink to the floor and just lay there.

Before you give into your urge to become one with the floor you pull your phone out to see who texted you.

If it’s Oikawa I’m going to flush my phone down the toilet.

But you’re pleasantly surprised to read the screen and not see it was Oikawa who messaged you. You unlock your phone to read the text, feel a smile tug at your lips and send a reply back.

Glancing down at the floor, it suddenly doesn’t look as appealing as it did before. You walk through the apartment, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: And we get a bit more of a glimpse into Y/N's friend group, and the dynamic is.......not ideal. Hopefully the friends can work through their problems and help each other......anyway, thank you for reading!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

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aspenroman · 4 years

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first dates and milkshakes (Poppy X MC)

Summary: By now, Belvoire’s worst kept secret is that MC and Poppy have been hooking up for weeks. Everyone knows, although no one dares say anything. One day though, MC works up the courage to finally take Poppy on a date.

Tag: @simpforpoppy

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I wanted to create something short and cute for Poppy after this week’s chapter haha. It’s short but hopefully it’ll hold you over until I can get the second part of my Poppy fic done. #MakePoppyALI2020. Hope you guys enjoy:)

As she lays in Poppy’s bed, MC feels her emotions ricochet around in her chest. They’d had sex a few hours ago, but hadn’t bothered to change or get out of bed. It was a Thursday anyways, and the duo didn’t have any classes tomorrow. And although Poppy didn’t adamantly make her leave, the two generally parted ways on school nights.

Tonight, the two lay together with the sheets haphazardly thrown over them. They’re still naked, but MC feels sated as she combs through Poppy’s mane of hair with her fingers. Occasionally, Poppy makes contented noises as she scrolls through her phone and MC is happy just sitting in the silence with her. However, there has been a thought that has been bothering for a minute.

“Pop?” MC murmurs and her fingers momentarily freeze.

The blonde glances up from her phone, “Yes, Farmsville?”

“Go on a date with me,” She blurts out.

Poppy fumbles with her phone as she drops it on her chest and turns, “What did you just say?”

“Go on a date with me,” MC says, more confidently this time, “we’ve been doing this whole thing for months. And it’s not just sex anymore, at least for me. I mean, you literally text me to hang out sometimes, just us. Everyone thinks we’re dating anyways.”

“Well, technically I’m still dating Brad,” Poppy scowls.

“Yeah, technically, you haven’t been seen with him since we took down Chloe at the club. I’m literally number 3, it’s not like your reputation will be hurt,” MC tells her.

Poppy’s eyebrows furrow together as she thinks. A moment passes before she nods, “Fine. On one condition.”

“You sound overjoyed to go on a date with me,” MC teases, “what is it Pop?”

“You take me on a Farmsville-style date. No fancy dinners or whatever, show me how a normal first date is,” Poppy turns away again and picks up her phone, “I’ve never been on a real one.”

“You want to see how the other side lives? Bet,” MC smiles.

Poppy cranes her head to look back at her, “Did you...just say the word “bet” as a response?”

“Shuddup,” MC leans down and kisses her and all of Poppy’s fight leaves her.

“Tomorrow, 7 o’clock,” MC continues, “I’ll pick you up from here.”

Poppy smiles up at her, one of her rare, genuine, unreserved smiles, “Okay.”

---

“Hi pretty girl,” MC coos as Poppy exits her dorm building.

“Hi,” Poppy’s face heats up, “thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence as MC stares at her girlfriend (well? sort of?) and takes her in. Poppy has on a very short white tennis skirt on paired with an over-sized sweater. It’s pretty casual for her, but damn do her legs look good MC thinks to herself.

“My eyes are up here,” Poppy teases and MC laughs and kisses her on the nose.

“Just enjoying the view, but I’m going to enjoy taking these off more,” MC smiles.

Poppy swats her on the arm, “Who says you’ll get that far, Farmsville? This is our first date, you have to woo me.”

“Uh huh,” MC laughs, “come on then, we’re burning daylight.”

Poppy’s nose scrunches in disgust, “Some of the words that come out of your mouth are questionable at best.”

“Y’all don’t say that here?” MC looks genuinely confused, “I thought it was a common saying.”

“Maybe for old people,” Poppy shrugs.

MC pouts and intertwines their fingers together as she starts to walk in one direction, “You guys are lame. Now come on, it’s only a few blocks away.”

Wordlessly, Poppy allows MC to pull her along until she catches up and they walk side-by-side. A few people stare at them as they leave Belvorie’s campus, but no one in particular that they recognize. Either way, MC is too absorbed in how wonderful Poppy’s small hands fit in hers and too overjoyed to break the moment. They don’t say much, MC too caught up in looking at all of the bright city lights around them. She’s been here for months but she still hasn’t gotten used to the view.

“You’re cute,” Poppy says and MC squeezes her hand.

MC smiles, “Thank you, Pop.”

Soon they reach their destination, MC watches the shorter girl’s face as she gazes up at the neon sign above them. Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as she reads it.

“You brought me to a...Steak N’ Shake? What’s that?” Poppy says.

MC laughs, “I’ll show you. It’s a staple where I’m from.”

The duo walk inside and the only waitress, a disgruntled woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere then here, seats them at a booth. Poppy glances around the room and takes in the retro red booths and the black and white tile that lines the walls. Chrome lines the edge of the flooring and a metal table separates them.

“Well this is something,” Poppy tells her.

“Listen, back where I’m from it’s either you go to a Steak N’ Shake to hang out or a Walmart. I figured you’d like this more,” MC says.

Poppy looks at her, “Was this where your first date was?”

“No, no. My first date was with a guy who smelt like roasted asparagus,” MC wrinkles her nose, “was stuck next to him for what feels like forever, that stupid movie was way too long.”

“Was he your friend or something?” Poppy tilts her head.

“Tinder,” MC shrugs, “small town where everyone I knew either thought I was ugly or I had already friend-zoned. Wanted to fall in love but my town was too small, so I turned to the internet. Plus, it was much easier to talk to girls on there then in real life.”

“What can I get for you guys?” The waitress materializes and interrupts them.

Poppy looks at MC helplessly and the brunette resists the urge to laugh, “A vanilla shake and a chocolate one, oh and a large fry.”

“That all?” The waitress asks.

MC nods, “Yeah, that’ll be it.”

The waitress nods but her face reads ‘oh fuck, I’m not getting a tip from this table’. MC puts on a terse smile as the waitress turns and leaves before Poppy clears her throat.

“A vanilla milkshake?” Poppy raises an eyebrow.

“I know you don’t like chocolate flavoring most of the time,” MC tells her, “plus, it’s a classic. It was either that or strawberry and I know you’re allergic to those.”

“Wait, you knew that?” Poppy’s eyes widen.

MC reaches across the table and grabs Poppy’s left hand with her own, “I do pay attention, Pop. You mentioned it a few weeks ago when you ordered that salad from that Italian place.”

Poppy smiles again, one of those special, toothy smiles where her eyes light up, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for being a decent human being,” MC waves the compliment off, “you’re my girl, I pay attention to everything you say.”

“Your girl, huh?” Poppy teases.

“I mean, uh, yeah if you’d like to be,” MC rubs circles onto Poppy’s hand, “I really like you, Poppy. And I know it’s only our first date but...”

“No. I like it,” Poppy interrupts, “It has a nice ring to it.”

MC leans across the table and with her free hand she grabs Poppy’s chin and pulls her to her so they can kiss. It’s a chaste and quick kiss, but when MC pulls away she’s smiling. A few minutes later, their food arrives and MC starts to open her straw before she places the straw in her mouth and faces Poppy.

“What are yo-” Poppy starts before MC blows hard on the straw and the wrapper flies into Poppy’s face.

“Got you,” MC giggles and Poppy blinks slowly.

“You’re dead to me, Farmsville,” Poppy says dramatically and pulls her hand away from her girlfriend’s.

MC sticks her tongue out, “Be that way then, fine.”

A beat passes.

“Can I hold your hand again?” Poppy murmurs and if MC wasn’t so close, she wouldn’t have hurt it.

To her credit, MC doesn’t antagonize her as she reaches across the table and intertwines their fingers again. With her free hand, Poppy places her straw in her shake and takes a sip.

“This is good, but why the fries?” Poppy asks.

“Take one and dip it into your shake,” MC says and does it.

“The fuck?” Poppy scowls, “Why would I cross contaminate?”

“Just do it, Princess,” MC tells her.

Clearly biting back a comment, Poppy does as she was told. As she chews on the fry, her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“That’s so good!” Poppy admits and grabs another fry.

“Told you,” MC says in a sing-song voice.

Poppy rolls her eyes but continues munching on fries as MC prattles on about this and that. Every now and then, Poppy makes small comments but lets MC do most of the talking as the two eat. When their cups are empty, MC pays for the meal and they walk back outside.

“You know what Farmsville, I really had a good time,” Poppy smiles.

“Does that mean?” MC waggles her eyebrows.

Poppy presses up on her toes and kisses her cheek, “Yes, you can come back to my room.”

MC yells in glee and picks up the smaller girl to twirl her. Poppy giggles as MC spins her in the air before she gently sets her back on the ground.

“Come on, pretty girl, daylight’s burning,” MC winks and Poppy hits her on the shoulder again as the two walk back to campus, hand-in-hand.

And MC couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night.

#makepoppyali2020 #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mine #writing #queen b #pixelberry #playchoices #choices stories you play

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district2001 · 4 years

Text

Leader Maknae Date

Seventeen AU: 14th member

Jangmi x Seventeen (mainly Coups)

Recap: When Seungcheol whisks Jangmi away from practice to ask her a very important question

Words: 2k

Requests are OPEN: Please please please send me what you want to see from Jangmi. I’m also open to feedback :)

Jangmi’s Masterlist

“I swear to god if Hoshi Oppa makes us go through the dance one more time, I’m going to die.” Jangmi complained, as she flopped on the floor in the dance studio.

“If he starts complaining about how our jumping isn’t the same height, I will personally take one for the team and murder him.” Seungkwan agreed.

“You know I can hear you right?” Hoshi yelled from the speakers. Jangmi snickered, praying that he wouldn’t play their song again.

She loved the song, and thought Woozi had done a phenomenal job with it. Apparently the staff weren’t too thrilled though, hoping for something darker. But leader line had backed him up, with Hoshi calling the song ‘pop perfection.’

Her favourite section was her interchanging rap part with S.Coups, where the contrast in their tones was noticeable, yet blended together really well. Plus the dynamic of the maknae with the eldest would look quite cool in the music video.

She reached over towards her bag and grabbed her drink bottle. The room temperature water wasn’t the greatest thing to drink, but she was so thirsty she would probably have Minghao’s hot water without complaint.

After she emptied her bottle, Jangmi lay on top of her bag, closing her eyes to get some rest. She knew debuting would be hard, much harder than being a trainee, but she was exhausted. Between online school, group dancing lessons, private dancing lessons, rap lessons, song writing sessions, recording sessions… the list was never ending. She was barely getting 5 hours of sleep a day, and she needed as much as she could get to grow. She’d made a bet with Dino that she’d grow taller than Woozi, and she wasn’t willing to admit to defeat.

Her short nap was interrupted by someone clearing their voice above her. Opening one eye, she saw S.Coups newly dyed blonde hair looking over her.

“5 more minutes.” She whined, closing her eyes again.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

She opened both her eyes this time in confusion of why he was using his leader tone with her.

“Uhh. Yeah. Sure” She sat up, stretching out her hand. Seungcheol grabbed it, and pulled her up to her feet.

“I was thinking we could go grab a coffee?” Seungcheol asked as they walked out the practise room.

Jangmi didn’t know what he wanted to talk to her about, but she had a feeling it was serious, seeing the way he was avoiding her eyes.

“Yes of course.” She replied, fidgeting with her fingers.

They walked to the café in silence, with both of them trying to break it by trying to start a conversation, only for it to die down within a minute.

She was very aware that some bad news was going to be given to her at the café, and was mentally preparing her reaction in case he told her that she’d have to leave Seventeen.

Once they arrived at the café, Seungcheol had asked her to take a seat whilst he placed their order. She asked him for a water, and when he questioned her terrible choice, she explained that it was healthy and free.

While waiting for him to come back, she started playing around with the ring on her finger, a new unconscious habit she had adopted after being given the ring a few days ago. No formal ceremony, a staff member had just dropped it off in the middle of her dance practise with Jun.

She was brought out of her thoughts with Seungcheol plopping down the 2 drinks on the table- 1 lemonade and 1 chocolate Frappuccino. She raised her eyebrows at her leader, who smirked and placed the straw of the lemonade in his mouth. “Eunwoo said this was your favourite drink.”

Jangmi tried to hide her smile, knowing very well that she was not doing a good job.

She took a sip of her Frappé, before setting it down on the table. She knew he was trying to butter her up before breaking the bad news, but she wanted to hear it outright. Not sugar-coated in chocolate goodness.

“Is it ok if I ask you something?” Seungcheol asked tentatively.

“Of course.” Jangmi nervously smiled.

He cleared his throat again, before continuing. “How’s everything?”

Jangmi narrowed her eyes, “everything?”

“You know…” he signalled with his hands, “everything.”

“Good.” She nodded, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“Come on Jangmi, you’ve got to give me more than that.”

She chuckled, happy this awkward tension between them was slowly dissipating.

“It’s been good though. Honestly. It’s a lot of hard work, and I don’t think I can feel my feet at all right now. But it’s been fun. I’m learning a lot.” She smiled politely before adding “thank you for the opportunity.”

“Stop being so polite with me. Let’s go back to how we were before.” Seungcheol dismissed, taking another sip of his lemonade.

“How were we before exactly?” Jangmi cocked her head to the side, waiting for his response. Sure, she had spoken to him during her visits every holiday, but they hadn’t really spent much time together- and never one on one. There was no need to. He was busy leading the boys to debut, whilst she was just a random trainee who kept popping up every few months.

“I don’t know.” He struggled. “Not this awkward for sure.” They both giggled, glad that they both were acknowledging the tense atmosphere.

“Seriously though, I’m really enjoying working with you all. Plus you guys are so talented. Legit. Did you see Minghao’s freestyle dance the other day. I didn’t even think it was possible to be that flexible.”

Seungcheol chuckled, taking another sip of his drink.

“Don’t get me started on the vocals of this team. I heard Seungkwan and Seokmin singing the other day and I was mind blown. And then I found out that they were only messing around. How can they seriously be that good when they are taking the piss out of it.”

“Glad to know you think the team is talented!”

Jangmi smiled, “Of course you guys are. That’s why you’re debuting.”

“Why we’re debuting” Seungcheol corrected.

“Oh right! I’m sorry.” Jangmi bowed again, causing Seungcheol to get up slightly and smack her head.

She faked a pout and took another sip of her drink.

“Is everyone treating you well?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You don’t need to worry. I was friends with most of them before anyway.”

Seungcheol hummed before talking again. “I definitely think you transitioned well. Although, I feel slightly bad for stealing you away from Sungyeon. I saw her the other day and she told me that if any one of us made you upset, she’d come and hurt us.”

“She’s just very overprotective.” Jangmi giggled. She had been so busy with catching up that she barely had seen Sungyeon over the last few weeks. She missed her best friend. Maybe they could go out and get some food together. Well, Sungyeon could eat food whilst Jangmi would be stuck eating salad.

“Well, now you’ve got 13 more people to protect you.”

“I can protect myself, thank you very much.” Jangmi sassed back, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Jangmi leaned over the table. “Is it because I’m a girl.”

Seungcheol leaned over aswell, looking directly into her eyes. “No, it’s because you ran out of the recording booth the other day after seeing the cockroach.”

Jangmi’s eyes widened. “How’d you-”

“Sungyeon told me.” He smirked, whilst moving Jangmis’ glass away from her elbows. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Jangmi leaned back into her seat in defeat, crossing her arms.

“Stop pouting. That’s my thing.”

“I’m the maknae, I can pout as much as I want.”

“You’re such a child”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Do you always talk to your elders with such attitude?”

“Not the ones I respect.”

‘Ya!” Seungcheol raised his voice, before realising that he had perhaps spoken too loudly in the café.

Jangmi shone her victory smile, and grabbed her drink off the table.

“Is there any reason you asked to hang out with me?” She asked. After their little banter session, she was starting to doubt that she would be leaving the band. Her leader was too relaxed.

“I was getting to that”

“Well, today would be nice, considering we have more dance lessons in 20 minutes.”

“Oh shit!” Seungcheol jumped up from his seat. “Grab your drink, and we can talk the way back.”

Jangmi nodded, before following him out the door. Stopping to yell ‘thank you’ to the staff.

Walking back to the Pledis building, Jangmi noticed how the sun was starting to set. She would have stopped to take a picture, and send it back to her parents, but Cheol started talking at that moment.

“I just wanted to take this opportunity for you to tell me if you were unhappy.” Jangmi looked at him in confusion.

“Like if anyone was making you uncomfortable, or if you were having trouble fitting in. I don’t know you well enough to read your mind, and Vernon said that you’re pretty reserved, like him, so I just wanted to make sure. Even if some members take longer to warm up to you, they will eventually.” She looked over to him and smiled.

Taking that as a sign of reassurance, Seungcheol continued. “I just wanted you to know that it might take a little while for you to feel completely at home. Or as homely as one can feel when they’re literally on the opposite side of the world from their friends and their family. I feel homesick sometimes, even when my home’s just a few hours from here.”

“If anyone mistreats you for being in our team, by talking shit about you let me know, or any of the other members. Seriously. We all look out for each other. And I know it’ll take some getting used to, but you deserved a spot on this team. I’m not just saying it as a leader, but as a friend. And hopefully soon you’ll think of me as an older brother. I overheard you telling Jihoon how you’re an only child aswell. This team is more like a fami-”

Seungcheol abruptly stopped mid-sentence when he realised Jangmi wasn’t walking beside him.

He quickly turned around, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw she was only a couple of metres behind him, wearing a massive smile on her cheeks.

“What?” He asked, genuinely confused to why she had stopped walking. Considering she was the one who reminded him of rehearsal.

“Do you really mean that?” she asked so quietly, that he could barely make out her question. He walked over to her and pulled her into a hug, “of course.”

Jangmi smiled into his chest. She had brothers.

Previous: First Official Meeting

Next: Debut.

#seventeen #svt #seungcheol #scoups #choi seungcheol #leader #kpop #kpop female oc #svt imagine #svt au #seventeen imagine #seventeen au #seventeen series #seventeen fic #seventeen 14th member #Jangmi SVT OC #kpop oc #kpop imagine

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princessmadafu · 3 years

Text

37 bleedin’ pages!

I have condensed them for you and left out most of the bits that the nasty evil British Press have already covered. Feel free to skip any boring bits.

Dax Shepard: Welcome, welcome, welcome to Armchair Expert's Experts on Expert. I'm Dan Shepard. I'm joined by Monica Mouse.

Monica Padman: Hi.

[...]

There follows some heavy marketing of towels and stuff...

DS: Now please enjoy Prince Harry. We are supported by Brookelinen. My favourite hotel quality sheets to get into and writhe around in the nude. [...] They're impeccable. They're decadent, they're soft, they're absorbent. Brookelinen was started to create beautiful high quality home essentials that don't cost an arm and a leg. They're so confident in their product, they come with a 365 day warranty. So give yourself that comfort refresh you deserve and get it for less. Go to Brookelinen.com and use promo code 'expert' to get $20 off with a minimum purchase of $100. That's Brookelinen.com and enter promo code 'expert' for $20 off with a minimum purchase of $100. That's Brookelinen.com, promo code 'expert'.

Pretty ironic really, as Harry wades into fake news and how advertising algorithms are ruining us...

DS:...It's like the algorithms on the internet. You can't compete with that, a human.

PH: You can't if you have the awareness of what it's doing to you. And the fact that it's learning, which is scary. And advertising has been going on for hundreds of years, but done really responsibly. The difference here is targeted ads. If ads have always worked for companies, you can put on the TV, you can walk away, you can come back, your involvement is switching on switching off or changing the channel. Whereas now with algorithms is there, it's just feeding your habits. And it's also reading through your emails and everything else. So it's getting to know you, like, it gets to know the decisions you're gonna make before you make them, then it creates this echo chamber of no pushback, of no context of nothing. It's just perpetuating and feeding the bias and the habits that you already have inside of you, which is terrible.[...]

Harry needs to learn about AdBlock and Ghostery and VPNs and Tor and DuckDuckGo and Smartpage and all the other clever little ways the computer-literate have of ridding their lives of unwanted advertising. I haven't seen an ad in years. The only person feeding my habits is me. It’s called personal responsibility. Maybe Harry still needs a Nanny but most grown-ups don’t. Oh wait, I forgot, the “Meghan&Harry Show” fans are all kids.

PH: [...] It's a computer. It's like, who wrote the algorithms? You guys did? Probably all male and all white.

Oooh, let's be sexist and racist, Harry! Did you ever hear of these women or are they too scary?

https://biztechmagazine.com/article/2012/05/mothers-technology-10-women-who-invented-and-innovated-tech

Then they discuss Naked Vegas (this guy Dax has a thing about nudity) and Harry in Afghanistan. And discuss a calendar of naked men that DS and MP put together - their favourite male bodies. What a good job it's only gloating over naked male bodies and not naked female bodies. It's apparently acceptable, for some reason. Harry doesn't know who the guys are.

DS: Monica makes this for me every year and it's a calendar of all my favourite bodies of friends.

MP: And they're all men.

DS: They're all men.

MP: And they're all gorgeous bodies.

[...]

And is Harry nervous talking about mental health? He shouldn't be, he's been banging on about it for years.

PH: Yeah. Was I nervous? No. Not so much nervous. But I guess on this particular subject around mental health. Yeah. For me, it's always a, unfortunately, today's world is quite a sensitive subject, not just for the people who are sharing. But ultimately, the subject matter itself has to be handled with care. [...] It ends up getting weaponized by certain people.

Weaponised by certain people? Like him and Markle, for instance. Neither of 'em has any talent so they weaponise their mental health. Big big mental health bombs loaded with word salad to lob at their own families and cause huge distress. Not nice, Harry.

PH: That's how I've always felt when it comes to projection. I mean, hatred is a form of projection, right? [...] We're not born to hate people. So it manifests itself over a period of time. And of course, it can come from unresolved pain, or being hurt continually, as a young kid or through adult life. But ultimately, there's a source to it. There's a reason why you want to hate somebody else.

Like his dad, his brother...

PH: And actually have some compassion for them. Which is really hard when you're on the receiving end of this, like, just vile, toxic abuse. But the reality is, is you say, flip it. [...] Every single one of us wherever we are, wherever we come from, there will always try and find some way to be able to mask the actual feeling and be able to try and make us feel different to how we are actually feeling, perhaps having a feeling. Right, because so many people are just numb to it. That was a huge part of the beginning of my life, which was like, I rejected. I said, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine.

And now he's moved on to promoting his new mental health stuff with Oprah, The Me You Can't See...

PH: So if you are making that conscious decision to say: You know what, it's not self serving, but I want to share my story. I'm being asked to share my story to hopefully help someone or loads of other people. I'm probably going to get trolled. I'm probably going to get attacked by the same people that were doing anyway. If I'm willing to make that decision, surely that comes from a place of courage rather than weakness?

Or possibly naivety. Harry is only wanted for his money-making title and royal status; he has no mental health qualifications, he's not a mental health professional, he's not an expert, all he brings to the table is the glamour of being a prince of the BRF. Which he quite clearly hates. Markle is lining her pockets from their self-indulgent mental health whinge fest and he's too dim to see it. There follows the bit about the spectrum of upbringing that the press is covering nicely so I can skip the next few pages - the bits where Harry says he doesn't see that talking about his own issues is complaining, and “it's the job, right”, how he never wanted the job of being royal, and his therapy and how “massively self-critical” he is (yet still can't see that he's not being honest with himself), ooh and sharing his hatred of the British press - that's a good bit, let's skip to page 18:

PH I think the biggest issue for me was that being born into it, you inherit the risk, you inherit the risk that comes with it, you inherit every element of it without choice. And because of the way that the UK media are, they feel an ownership over you. Literally like a full on ownership. And then they give the impression to some of their, well, most of the readers, that that is the case. But I think it's a really dangerous place to be if you don't have a choice, but then, of course, then people quite rightly will turn around and go. So what if you didn't have a choice? It was privilege? [...] Page Six of the New York Post, they took pictures of my son being picked up from school on his first day [...] But I guess my point is the way that I look at it, especially now living here one hour outside LA. Like it's a feeding frenzy here. We spent the first three and a half months living at Tyler Perry's house. You let us stay. And the helicopter helicopters, the drones the paparazzi cutting the fence like it was madness. And people out there -Their response was, Well, what do you expect if you live in LA? It's like, Okay, well, first of all, we didn't mean to live in LA. This is like a staging area before we try and find a house. And secondly, how sad that if you live in LA and you're well known figure, you just have to accept it. The first security we had, I said, Well, where's the safest place? Inside. Just because I'm a well known person, you can't go outside anymore. [...] it's really, really sad. And of course, their argument is - the paparazzi and everybody else - is like all if you're in the public space, then it's absolutely fine for us to do it. So what is our human right as an individual and as a family, you're saying that if the moment we step foot out of our house, that it's open season and free game? What? Because of public interest?. There's no public interest in you taking your kids for a walk down the beach. Nothing...

And on and on it goes... He should've stayed in the UK then. The Cambridges are managing very nicely, thank you. They take their kids for walks on the beach, and we'd never seen them until they released their anniversary video the other week. Harry's clearly envious of William; Harry's mad wife is vitriolically envious of Catherine. Oh and I’m pretty sure it’s the mad wife who keeps phoning her go-to paps when she needs to be in the news again.

PH: [...] I believe we live in an age now where you've got certain elements of the media redefining to us what privacy means. There's a massive conflict of interest. And then you've got social media platforms, trying to redefine what free speech means. Why - I wonder why you're doing that. And again - so this has been happening for 15 years now. And we're living in this world where we've almost like all the laws have been completely flipped by the very people that need them flipped so they can make more money and they can capitalise off our pain, grief, and this sort of general self destructive mode that's happening at the moment [...]

He doesn't get how hypocritical this is, does he? The Markles are the ones capitalising on their grief, pain and the rest of it. And no-one would be interested in them without the royal bits because they have nothing else to offer. Failed actress and used-to-be-a-soldier wrapped up in festering bitterness.

Blah, blah... went shopping in a supermarket... saw lots of chewing gum... blah, blah... Archie on the back of his bicycle... girls want to be princesses... You don't need to be a princess, you can create the life that will be better than any princess or it's something along those lines... she said she expected [the press] to be fair... Pages and pages of how he hates the British press...

PH: [...] And especially when you can't defend yourself so yes, I think when you marry into it, especially when it's one Princess Diana's sons there is a certain amount of 'okay what I'm actually letting myself in for?' But very few people actually know - apart from the Brits - how toxic that element of the of the UK press is.[...]

We're up to page 24 now, if you're still with me. Oh here it is, Harry's unconscious bias... What’s the betting the mad wife has scripted this bit for him?

PH: [...] So going back to the whole sort of travelling around the Commonwealth, I thought I knew, right, having been able to travel that much and meet so many and such a diverse group of people. I thought I understood life. Especially bearing in mind most of the countries I was going to were, most of the communities are going to were people of colour. But then I was really shocked once I started doing therapy. And that bubble was burst. And I started doing my own work, really - a lot of work - and started to uncover and understand more about unconscious bias. And I was like, wow, I thought since I screwed up when I was younger, and then did the work. I thought I then knew. But I didn't. And I still don't fully know. It's like a constant working progress. And every single one of us has it. [...] Everyone has biases, of all sorts. But I think it's a really important point, especially now, after everything's happened in the last year and a half, like the world is changing, the younger generation are driving it. And you've got to like a multi-racial, cultural sort of movement happening, which has never happened before. But unconscious bias is the way that I understand it, is, again, it's not something that's wrong with you. Right? And you don't have to be defensive about it. That's the thing. No one's blaming you. But the moment that you acknowledge that you do have unconscious bias, what are you going to do about it? Because if you choose to do nothing you're continuing to fuel the problem, which means that you're then heading towards racism. Whereas unconscious bias is actually something that is inherent, unfortunately, in every single one of us. But that it is possible to educate yourself to be more aware of the problems and therefore be part of the solution rather than part of the problem.

Markle's got him well-trained on this one, hasn't she. I wonder if he's read anything critical of the unconscious bias movement, or just repeating what he's been told to. Oh and then he goes off about being in the army...

PH: I loved it. I love wearing the same uniform as everybody else. I love being treated the same. I love the expectation of if you want to get that job, or you want that promotion, or you want to finish this race, it's all on you. There's no special treatment, you're not going to get any help. If anything, you're probably going to get treated the opposite because everyone thinks that you've had an easy life. And everyone's always helped you get to where you are.

But...but...but, Harry wasn't treated the same, there was special treatment, he was helped to get to where he was. He scraped a couple of poor quality A Levels and got admitted to Sandhurst because he's a prince. Good old Wikipedia says:

In June 2003, Harry completed his education at Eton with two A-Levels,[22] achieving a grade B in art and D in geography, having decided to drop history of art after AS level.[23] He has been described as "a top tier athlete", having played competitive polo and rugby union.[24] One of Harry's former teachers, Sarah Forsyth, has asserted that Harry was a "weak student" and that staff at Eton conspired to help him cheat on examinations.[25][26] Both Eton and Harry denied the claims.[25][27] While a tribunal made no ruling on the cheating claim, it "accepted the prince had received help in preparing his A-level 'expressive' project, which he needed to pass to secure his place at Sandhurst."[25][28]

PH: And then suddenly, like - while I was at school, I hated exams. And I promised myself I'd never do exams again. Then I joined the army of which is full of exams. I still promised myself I'm never gonna do it and then I end up flying Apache [...]

Gods, it's getting boring. Even the interviewers are zoning out. Still ten pages to go. Wish I hadn't started this, I could be out weeding. Weather's nice, not too windy... Do I deserve a quick G&T yet?

PH: Or worse, was they turn around and say, right, because last week, you're out the front. This week, you got to carry his bergan, I'm like - what, 30 extra pounds? Nooo. But it was, it was the most normalising experience or job that I could have ever hoped for. And then going to Afghanistan twice [...] And someone said to me very recently, from the moment that you're born into today's world, life is trauma, so the sooner that we actually acknowledge that but but [...]

A-a-a-a-and he's back on the mental health thing, PTSD or PTSI,

PH: Post Traumatic Stress Injury is like: Well, that makes sense, because I just saw my mate get blown out. But the other piece of this is, what we need to remember is, the lot of the recruiting that we do in the UK, comes from certain cities and certain homes, where there's childhood trauma. So what we collectively have already got inside of us, the trigger of seeing something happen in Iraq, Afghanistan can be the trigger. So everyone goes: Oh, it's because they were on operations, and because they saw their makeup blown up. It's like, no. [...] So that's what I've been working on for years, for the last five years, which is like, and it started in therapy of like, I don't want to lose this thing, because I think it's, I feel so connected to my mum. [...]

They move on to parenting, which the press is rubbing its hands over... Harry blaming everyone but himself and his saintly mother - Charles, HMTQ, PP... "They f*ck you up, your mum and dad". But not the mum bit. He can't push his mum off her pedestal.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse if you don't know Larkin's poetry. How much more? Nearly there. Monica loves The Crown and doesn't realise it's fictitious.

DS: [...]Well, Harry, I've really really liked talking to you. You're very charming. You're very intelligent. You're handsome, and I can't wait to see your torso.

MP: Thank you so much for coming.

DS: So I just want to remind everyone that May 21 on Apple Plus, you should check out Oprah and Prince Harry's 'The Me You Can't See'. I have to imagine it's similar to her book, which I just read, which is absolutely incredible 'What happened to you?' So everyone should check out 'The me you can't see' on Apple plus May 21.

And still Harry won't shut up... Shut up, shut up. Cut his mic. You don't have to read this last bit, they've already wound up the interview...He still won’t shut up.

PH: Yeah, we're moving from the physical to the emotional, right, physically. At the beginning of this pandemic, people were panicking. And there was that fight or flight like, ahh what do we do like lockdown, survival? Yeah. And now that the vaccines have been sort of, we're getting to the point where more and more people are being vaccinated, we're now in the emotional phase of what I read in the New York Times article was called languishing, which is really interesting. It's like the is the middle child between flourishing and depression. You just feel flat, and it's not depressed. It's definitely not flourishing. You lack the energy and the will, the motivation, all that kind of stuff. Because you're kind of sitting there going - Well, what happens next? And I think it's really important that we talk about languishing. And it was coined by someone I can't remember who but I think it was the journalist who wrote the story was Adam Grant. No, he didn't come up with it. Someone else came up with him, he wrote this, the most amazing article about languishing and the fact that how important it is to be able to talk about it because - look when it comes to mental health, we need to realise and accept that every single one of us have mental health. There's varying degrees, as we said, you've got the mental illness, and then you've got the sort of the awareness and the work that you can put in, like, Where do you want to be that we shouldn't just sit there and go: Oh, mental illness is once we are literally on the floor crawling around in the foetal position needing help. But for me, I don't think I need therapy anymore. But I wanted. And when I say therapy, I mean, actual therapy, sitting down having a discussion with someone. But I also mean like, nature, like going for walks, like throwing the ball for my dog down the beach and stuff like that. There are certain things around the world that are free, some you have to pay for, but ultimately go searching for the things that make you feel good about yourself. Like that's the key to life, get rid of the bad stuff, get rid of the hate, and just focus on the good. And your whole life turns around from that. I hate this idea. And I was one of them. I fell for it. Right? I didn't acknowledge that clearly what happened to me when I was 12 years old, losing my mom and all the other pieces that happened, the traumatic experiences that happened to me since then, I didn't acknowledge them, when perhaps - maybe I need to deal with this because if I don't, how the hell am I going to be a decent father to my son and my daughter? Like that awareness, I didn't have then. But again, we've got what - 40 experts as part of this series, and the Surgeon General, Dr. Nadine Burke Harris, she's absolutely fantastic. And she was talking about this concept of mental health being sort of public health, right. Because the services are so limited. There's not enough money. The problem is actually immense. How can we all help each other rather than this: 'Oh, once I'm broken, or once I'm suffering, I have to go here.' And there's not enough rooms or spaces for the amount of people or the for the need, when actually you can get ahead of it, and work on the prevention by sharing and being more vulnerable with each other, and being able to process this grief or this loss, or this trauma that every single one of us have experienced and will experience. So anyone who's sitting there going: 'I don't have a problem, and I never will have a problem.' Well, you probably are already contributing to the problem, because you probably got your blinkers on, you probably created your own echo chambers. So I think it's a that, that's certainly what I've experienced for my own process, my own journey, my family and my friends and everybody else is. Anyone who thinks, oh, we're fine. You're the one who's like, willing to talk about it. It's like, yeah, I'm willing to talk about it and talking about it. And the financial element as well. We're pouring money into on the downsteam, when it's like, Can we just focus upstream? Yeah, we focus on one thing, like to me listen to Oprah was what was one of the reasons that this whole thing started was two of the biggest issues that we're facing in today's world, I think, is the climate crisis, and mental health. And they're both intrinsically linked. Basically if we neglect our collective wellbeing, then we're screwed. Basically, because we can't look after ourselves. We can't look after each other. We can't look after each other, we can't look after this home that we all inhabit. So it's all part of the same thing.

DS: Prince Harry, I don't say this lightly. I love you. Thanks for coming. This was great.

M: Thank you so much.

PH: Thank you very much.

Wish I'd done my weeding.

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valkblue · 3 years

Photo

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department.

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way! Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws and @something-tofightfor for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it.

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

#ocs #oc:vivian #my writing #fic:improvisation only #westworld fanfic #full diagnostic series #westworld fic #westworld

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mstrumpeter · 3 years

Text

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,415

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing

Chapter II

When they got to the bar Charlotte did her best to stick to her two best friends which were pretty soon wrapped into their boyfriend’s arms.

Charlotte shared a table with the two couples, Elwood and Murph, who started to report on their latest US tour, which they had ended with tonight’s concert in their home town of course. “Think we can all agree that we got the best response in the Southern cities” “Sure, those mountain people do not know anything about proper dance music and shaking a leg.” Elwood added. And then Murph told the funniest story about how the smashed his e-piano by accident on the highway and how desperate they were to find a new one before the next gig.

Jake ordered a few rounds of shots for everyone and the guys kept on telling some stories from the last few weeks. The rest of the band was lingering at the bar and Mr. Fabulous took a long glance at Charlotte. She was wearing a black dress with golden details on it, black boots and a leather jacket. He really liked her style. And she looked adorable, smiling and laughing about the jokes the others must have told. He admired the young woman for some time until he finally approached her. “May I buy the lady a drink?” “Er.. I-, I…”, she stammered. “Sure, she’d love to!”, Lisa chipped in and gave her friend a soft push towards the trumpet player, who carefully put his arm at Charlotte’s lower back, ushering her towards the bar. “So what does a girl like you likes to drink? A beer? G and T?” “Wine, please, white!”, she gave the bartender an assuring nod. Alan raised his hand. “Any particular wish?” “Right, you’ll probably judge me for that but a Chardonnay, please.. if you got any.” “Make that two, please.” They picked up their glasses and went to the nearest table. “Chardonnay, huh?”, the man laughed. “Why’s that?” “I dunno… My parents love those fancy-schmancy restaurants and I kinda started to like the taste of a good Chardonnay.” She raised her glass “Thanks for the drink, Alan. To the fancy things in life then…?” “And to your first and hopefully not last concert of the Blues Brothers Band!” The two clinked their glasses. “Cheers!” “Surprisingly this one tastes quite delish.”, Alan joked after taking a sip, checking out the bar in an exaggerated manner and they both laughed. “Well, to be honest I think wine is the only fancy thing I like. Can’t even stand the food at those restaurants, most times I order a salad, can’t do much wrong with that.” “I guess that’s true.” “How long have you been playing with these boys?” “A few years know. I know Jake back from NY City and he asked me to join these fellas. Good thing I didn’t know how nut these boys were, I’d probably have never agreed to that.” He looked at Charlotte and couldn’t quite read her face, so he quickly added “I’m just kidding, they’re great… So, what do you do when you’re not dragged to concerts of your bestfriend’s boyfriends?” “You know, college stuff. I study law.” Alan gave Charlotte an acknowledging nod. “Oh? You wanna become a lawyer?” Her mood suddenly changed. “Well, my dad is one, so…” She quickly changed the topic and cleared her throat. “May I ask you something?” “I’ll answer you everything you wanna know.” She blushed. What was he doing to her? She insecurely pushed around her glass. “Soo… Why that nickname?” She emphasised “Mr. Fabulous?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He took a big sip from his glass and licked his bottom lip after swallowing. Charlotte felt hypnotised. She couldn’t take her eyes from his sensuous chiseled lips. “I guess I AM fabulous.” Charlotte softly moaned “You certainly are.” The following awkward silence brought her back to reality. “Gosh, did I just say this? I’m so sorry.”, she apologised. “The wine must have gotten into me.” God, she wanted to slap herself for that. “It’s alright, thought it was rather cute.” She looked up from her glass into his beautiful hazelnut eyes and could have stayed there forever.

“Do you like another drink?”, he offered her. “Huh? Oh no, it’s really getting late. I think I better leave!” “Sure I’d be happy to take you home.” “Thanks for the offer, Alan but I got here with Sophia, her car’s still parked outside.” “So?” “Well I bet she wants me to drive back with her.” “I bet she don’t.” Charlotte sighed and looked over to her friend, who was sitting on Jake’s lap, one arm around his neck, wearing his hat. “Look, I’m sorry, don’t wanna force you into anything.” “Would you give me minute with her?”, Charlotte asked the handsome musician and went over to her friend. “Hey girl. Did you check the time recently? I really need to get home.” “Oh I’m sorry hun. I planned on spending the night with Jake… You know he’s been on tour so much lately, we barely got to see each other the past few months.” “Ffs, c’mon, you can’t let me down.” “On the contrary, looks like Mr.Fabulous is very eager to drive you home.” She giggled and couldn’t help noticing him at the bar, watching the two vigilantly. “How about that: You take me home and THEN you can still go to Jake’s.” “How cruel of you! That’s the most unromantic thing ever.” Charlotte squinched her eyes. “Don’t you see I’m only trying to force your luck here? He’s obviously crazy about you.” “Right, just never mind. I’m sorry, it’s just, I feel kinda overwhelmed. Enjoy your night, you two!” Charlotte gave his friends a quick smile and turned back to the man who had been waiting for her at the bar. “Seems like we’re good to go.” “Excellent. Just let me grab my jacket.” They walked down the street until they got to a black Mercedes 300SL sports car.. “Here we are.” “No way this is your car!” “Well, seems like I’ve got the keys.”, he said and opened the passenger door, holding it open for her. “This is one of my favourite models.” She stated and let her fingers trail over the passenger’s instrument board. “How do you - I mean, you’re only a trumpet player!” “Yeah but I play the flugelhorn, too.”, the quick-witted musician replied. He quickly closed the door behind her and took a seat behind the wheel.

It was a rather awkward ride for both of them. Both thought about what to say or how to keep the conversation going but couldn’t come up with anything inventive. And Charlotte felt guilty for her remark about his car, thinking this was the reason he was so quiet.

They finally reached Charlotte’s house. He got out of the car, walked around and opened the passenger door for her again. He held out his hand to her “Milady?” She put her hand in his and tried to get out of the car as elegant as possible.”Why thank you!” Seeing that he actually wasn’t angry at her gave her some desperately needed courage. “Alan? I’m sorry about what I said about you owning that car… I didn’t-“ “Don’t you worry about that! Usually I’m pretty good at dishing it out in a joking way, so I have to be able to take it as well.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a look at the house in front of them. “This isn’t your home, is it?”, he asked with a smile. “What? Of course it is.” She looked over her shoulder. “What blew the secret?” “The tricycle at the front door…?” She inhaled sharply. “I mean chances still are you have a sibling at the age of 4.” Charlotte sighed. “I’m so sorry. This got nothing to do with you. My parents think I’m on some kind of girls movie night at Lisa’s. And they prefer staying up until I get home.” “No harm done. I completely understand. I hope to see you again sometime…?” “Sure, I’d like that.”, the girl smiled. “Good night then.” And with that he gave her a kiss on the hand. She couldn’t believe he just did that! What a gentleman! How freakin wholesome! She tried not to show any of her excitement on the outside when he watched her walking to the neighboured house and disappearing through the front door.

Chapter I

#Alan Rubin x Reader #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #blues brothers fandom #blues brothers #blues brothers fanfiction #Mr.Fabulous

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astraeal · 3 years

Text

Commission for @thedashasaproblem! Hope you enjoy; read it on AO3 here.

Farmer Marie, original character, belongs to @thedashasaproblem. Stardew Valley, and all characters and settings therein, belongs to concernedape.

“Okay! We have quite a few things we need to get done today. Marnie called – you know how I asked her to let us know if she had any more available chicks? Yes? – and said there were some new ones we could pick up, which is perfect and just in time because Robin wrapped up the coop yesterday! And that means we need fresh hay in the coop, and if we need to restock the silo then we’ll mow too. Bessie needs to be milked and we’ll check if Sweetpea has any this morning or if she’s still nursing – ugh, little Delilah is going to be so stunning when she grows up, I can feel it. Oh, and good morning babe!”

Elliott blinks from where he’d stumbled into the kitchen, his hair thrown into a messy bun and loose auburn strands hanging around his face. He is in no way prepared for Marie’s chipper enthusiasm, but that’s what made him love her, after all. And, this entire situation is something he brought upon himself.

Head full of fantastical pastoral fantasies, he’d asked Marie to keep him appraised of what it takes to run Shady Land Farm. He was good with books, which was helpful – while Marie was running about the Valley in search of delicious fruits and rare stones, Elliott appointed himself the financier of Marie’s assets.

It had been difficult; he’d consolidated sticky notes scattered about the house with haphazard reminders about supplies owed to Robin, and items to sell to Pierre at the general store vs. what should be distributed to townsfolk directly, and birthday reminders, and favorite gifts, and occasional notes written in a script he couldn’t parse but appearing on a fantastical dark blue page that made his writer’s intuition spark. (That, and his fingers burned a little whenever he held such a note, as if it knew that he was not the intended recipient, but he never let Marie know that.)

After his book tour had completed, he had taken the better part of their first fall together to consolidate these notes and square the books. It had been helpful when Marie decided to go forward with the basement upgrade, and suddenly Shady Land’s wines and cheeses were worth quite a lot more. They’d only recently begun talking about incorporating more animals into the farm, hence the phone call to Marnie. With the addition of more animals, and Marie’s additional time spent working on repairing the old Community Center, Elliott wanted to assist more. It was only fair, after all; he still got most of his writing done at night, and there was no reason he couldn’t spend more of his mornings helping around the farm.

Marie had been ecstatic, of course, and he’d glowed with the anticipated appreciation for his efforts. So far, it hadn’t been that difficult. Sprinklers handled most of the watering, and with Marie’s clear eye for design, he wasn’t getting lost in the fields as he had feared he would.

But he still wasn’t a morning person, and his brain isn’t entirely on all the way, especially when his wife has inundated him with information and her beautiful visage so early in the morning.

Marie looks up at him, wide blue eyes and a warm smile on her face, blonde hair tucked away in two braids that usually resided beneath her sunhat. The hat now rests on the worn kitchen table, two steaming mugs of coffee and cozy breakfast platters set on the table. Still processing his wife’s words, Elliott makes his way to the second breakfast platter and pours some milk into his coffee, knowing he’ll need it to make it through the day.

“Good morning, my dear,” he murmurs as he finishes those first three blessed gulps of caffeinated beverage. “Would you like me to fetch the chicks? Or shall I stay on the homestead and you venture to the forest?”

Marie takes a bite of her eggs, done up with some goat cheese – “I bought it from Pierre but when we get some we’ll make our own, and it’ll be probably fresher than this stuff!” – potatoes, and sausage in her own little scramble. Elliott’s breakfast is far more tame, scrambled eggs and farm fresh cheese, with toast on the side.

“If you want to take Miss Daisy to Marnie’s, that would be great! She could use an excursion, and she loves the woods.” Marie sets her hand – soft, thanks to the gloves she uses, but still strong and capable – over Elliott’s wrist. “If you don’t mind, that is. I know coming back with newborn chicks might be a little…difficult.”

He warms at her touch. “I’m sure Marnie has a basket or some such thing I could use, don’t fret darling. She’d never let anything happen to the animals in her care.”

Marie smiles at him, and pecks his cheek. “Alright, babe, I’ll head down to the barn –”

“Oh, I can do that!” He blushes a little after his outburst, but still gives his wife a smile. “Let me handle the animals today, my dear. The first fruits of spring will be in the orchard, and you’ve got a better sense for flora than I.”

They both remember the catastrophic effort in Elliott’s old cottage when he watered his rose with sea water and was confused as to why it was dying. That had been one of the many points Elliott began to consider Marie as more than a friend.

She gives him a look clearly conveying that she’s thinking of the same moment he is. “Well, alright. Apricots and cherries, what a combination. Oh! And the wine! I’ll be right back!” She darts away, down the basement stairs, presumably to see if any wine has finished maturing yet. Some things she pulls out early, just for a little extra cash – Gus is always appreciative of a finer quality of any type of ingredient, especially alcohol.

Elliott knows it will take her a little while to check each barrel, so he quickly finishes his breakfast and coffee, and then stands, ready to take on the day.

First, to get himself prepared.

Then, to tend to Miss Daisy.

♢♢♢

Marie loses some time in the basement, checking each and every barrel, weighing the pros and cons of switching out some of the wine barrels for cheese barrels. With Bessie and Sweetpea both producing such quality milk, Shady Land has a near excess of cheese and she knows Gus would pay a fair amount to have some for his pizzas and salads.

Then again, better quality cheese keeps her going in the mines and other excursions, so there might be some incentive to keep some around? She’d probably ask Elliott for his thoughts, but by the time she surfaces from the basement and sees the clock perched over the coffee maker in the kitchen, she realizes it’s already 2:49pm.

She’d left her husband alone for hours. Elliott isn’t incompetent, but there’s still etiquette for handling new animals, especially babies, and all of Grandpa’s farming books are written in family shorthand, something she’d been meaning to teach Elliott but just kept forgetting.

Alarmed, Marie runs out to the front porch, expecting some sort of catastrophe. Bessie to be loose – not that she’d do much but perhaps wander up towards the house and eat a few tulips or something – or maybe Aspen to have fallen into the lake (again) but instead all’s quiet. She can hear the soft bells hanging from Bessie, Sweetpea, and little Delilah, but she can’t see them through the orchard.

She doesn’t run, lest she startle anyone, but she heads towards the tree line as quickly as she can. As she approaches, she can hear her husband’s voice. She quiets her steps as she enters the dappled shade of the orchard, the apple and orange trees still dormant for the season, yet producing beautiful flowers regardless. A sweet spring wind guides some fallen petals towards her, beautifully framing the tender scene she sees before her.

Elliott sits on a stump, Miss Daisy, Bessie, and Sweetpea, grazing peacefully beside him. He and little Delilah, however, are looking down, enraptured with three small fuzzy brown and golden chirping fluffy chicks in the grass. The chicks are barely visible from her current distance, but as Elliott straightens up his long hair goes back into place, revealing a fourth little chick curled up in his hand, which he gives little pets to every once in a while.

“You’re not too different from the crab that once lived in my pocket,” the story crafter begins, murmuring to the little chick in his hand. The chick chirps in response, and Elliott chuckles. “I haven’t told you that story yet? Well, I absolutely should.”

Marie takes another small step forward, not wanting to encroach on the moment nor startle any of the beings involved. The more she watches the scene, the more she sees things she hadn’t before. Like how all the adult females stood firmly on the edge of the lake, prohibiting the chicks, Elliott, or Aspen from wandering too close to it. And a small – hopefully empty – milk pail sits next to the stump, as if her husband had finished a chore and then simply couldn’t be away from the chicks for much longer.

What gives her away is another small fluff ball in the grass, this one bigger than the chicks, a brilliant white that rockets out of the higher grass and directly into Marie’s arms.

“Aspen! Who’s a good boy?” she coos, on reflex. Miss Daisy looks nonplussed, as if she knew Marie was there the entire time, while Delilah startles a little and runs back to the safety of Sweetpea.

Elliott also startles, which startles the chicks, who all climb and jump up his pant legs and into his lap, chirping loudly until they can take cover in the safety of Elliott’s lap. “Darling! I didn’t hear you arrive!” He looks caught red handed, though with what, Marie’s not sure.

She walks over, Aspen tucked to her chest, and sees with no small amount of relief that the milk pail isn’t full of milk, but rather water. Now, she can also see a small basket, no doubt from Marnie, in which the chicks probably arrived.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disrupt…you just looked so cute, babe! Everyone treating you nicely?” Marie leans forward, letting Aspen back down to the ground, and gives an affectionate rub to Miss Daisy, who wandered over searching for some treats.

Elliott blushes, visible even with the mid-spring flush he seems to always have on him. “Yes, quite. Everyone has been remarkably kind to me. Miss Daisy had to guide us home herself! I was, ah, a little preoccupied with the newest young ones.”

The wind picks up a little, carrying more flower petals through the air. Elliott’s long auburn waves glint caramel in the sun, unfurling to the side, revealing the turquoise earring usually kept tucked away. Marie had mined that turquoise herself; the earring had been a wedding gift from Clint, repurposing a stone Marie had sold him a few weeks prior to their proposal. (She had briefly wondered if maybe Clint and Elliott had been in on it together, as the timing was so perfect, but maybe she was simply overthinking things.)

Elliott looks completely at home, sitting cross-legged on the stump, worn down by spring rains. With the chicks in his lap and the errant flower petals in his hair, the man looks ever more like a regal prince from all the books and movies Marie had seen growing up.

“They’ve taken a liking to you,” she observes, reaching a finger in to give gentle pets to the soft downy chicks. They accept them, curious and cautious in their new home, but feeling brave under Elliott’s protection. “Have you thought of any names?”

Her husband looks up, green eyes wide. “Names? Oh, darling, I thought that was all you.”

“Nonsense! You picked them up, you should at least be able to name them. These ladies will need fine names, if they’re to live here on Shady Land. And you’re a writer, names are what you do!”

The chicks chirp in agreement, looking up at Elliott.

“Well…I was thinking this one could be Carmelina,” he murmurs, touching the lightest brown one. “Caramel, for the color, but the full name also means “vineyard of Yoba” so I find that fitting for the main exports of Shady Land, don’t you?”

Marie blinks. “You…knew the meaning of the name on the spot?”

“Of course! Clara was almost named Carmelina in Camellia Station, but I thought that would be too close to the title of the book, so I changed it. Still kept the C though.” He gets that wistful look on his face, a little lost in thought, as he usually does when trying to come up with next big ideas for his writing career.

The farmer giggles, giving more pets to Miss Daisy, who finally nosed out the cookies in Marie’s pockets. She gives one to her steadfast companion, looking at her husband with a newfound appreciation.

She takes a seat on the stump beside Elliott, looking up at him as they discussed further names for the chicks. The sun dripped down through the orchard’s branches, spreading dappled shadows up the short grassy expanse. Eventually, the cows and Miss Daisy wander back to their respective barns and stables, and the chicks doze off in Elliott’s lap. Marie delicately takes a couple – the newly named Carmelina and Dahlia – and heads off to the newly constructed coop to set them inside.

The chicks barely move when they’re set down in their new hay lined beds, clearly Elliott’s handiwork while Marie was tending to the house. The two of them hold hands, walking through the fields of Shady Land.

“You know, we could wash up and head to town. Get a late lunch at the Saloon, then maybe walk down by the beach?” Marie suggests, watching her husband for his response. She likes to spend as much time with him as possible before she loses him to his nightly writing routine, and there’s something a little tender about meandering down by the places they had fallen in love.

Elliott beams, nearly glowing with happiness. “That sounds delightful, dear. I’ll be sure to put on my best shirt.”

It’s not necessary to dress up for a 4pm lunch at the Stardrop Saloon, but Elliott likes to go the extra mile, and Marie can appreciate the little efforts to glamorize being a farmer’s husband. She kisses his dirt smeared cheek, standing side by side on the porch, and marvels at how far she’s taken the farm since her grandfather had worked the land.

Maybe someday she’d tell her husband about the vision she’d received a couple weeks ago, with her grandfather and the ultimate judging of her efforts so far, and the new, strange, blue flame candles on her grandfather’s shrine in the northwest corner of the farm. Someday. But not today.

“I wonder if Gus will have crab cakes,” she teases, stepping into their home, to the sounds of fire crackling in the fireplace and her husband enthusiastically waxing poetic about his favorite dish in the entire Valley.

Truly, it’s home.

#commissions #stardew valley commission #stardew valley #sdv #thedashasaproblem #i think after typing it so many times i NOW can read your url correctly #but i think it will always partially be 'the dashas problem'#hope you enjoy!! 💖💖💖

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

Football

Pairing: Joe Anaoi X Reader (Roman Reigns X Reader)

Warning: Fluff, No warnings that I know of.

Count: 1400 words apx.

Are you busy? I opened the text and found Joe's name across the top of my screen. When had we exchanged phone numbers? I was sure we hadn't, but here he was texting me.

Just relaxing. I texted back. His response was fast.

We're watching the game. Come join us. I'm in room 458. The game? As in HHH? As in a sport? Probably football, but I hated football. Plus, I was really comfortable.

Can't I just stay here and read my book? Then again... Joe, Becks and Colby? Always a good time. More to the point, Joe. I wanted to be near Joe. As fast as the thought popped into my head, I chided myself for even thinking it.

I looked down at my book realizing I'd read the last paragraph 3 times already. I wasn't even paying attention to it. Instead, my mind had wandered to Joe long before the text came in. Honestly, hiding my feelings from him was getting exhausting, but I wasn't going to get past these feelings until I was used to being around him. Be up soon, I texted back.

I found the door to his room propped open, and cheering wafted into the hall. I knocked as a courtesy as I let myself in. Colby and Becks were sitting on a bed and Joe was on an oversized loveseat. “Hey. C'mon. You can sit here.” He indicated the spot next to him on the loveseat.

“I, uh, don't follow football.” I admitted as Joe stood, grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge and tossed it to me.

“Me either.” Becks laughed. “T'e boys are teachin' me. Colby is taking me to a game next month.” She grinned wide like spending time with Colby was the best thing ever. I understood, all too well. I felt the same way about Joe.

I settled in, trying to pay attention as the guys explained the fine nuances of the game; like I would ever care about the psychology of why the team is punting.... or something like that. These guys were INTO it... big time. A little voice in my head told me to look at the bright side. I may not have a chance with Joe, but that means I won't have to watch football all the time. I chuckled to myself.

“Maybe we can get you to a game too, if you want.” Joe sat next to me again and wrapped his arm over the back of the couch behind me. He was so close; I could feel the heat from him against my side. I wanted, no, I NEEDED to lay my head back against his shoulder. I took a deep breath trying to steady my thoughts, but that only made me smell him, which made things worse.

I had a moment of weakness and gave into the desire to lay my head down. In turn he wrapped his arm around me, his fingers skimming the skin exposed below my sleeve. “Damn. You’re cold baby.” He started rubbing my arms to warm them.

“I didn’t think to bring my hoodie,” I replied. Joe was already on his feet before I could finish the sentence. Digging through his suitcase, he produced a Big Dog merch hoodie and brought it to me. Leaning forward, I slipped it over my head, basking in the smell of Joe’s cologne and laughed at how big the hoodie was on me.

“Come here,” Joe beckoned me to curl up at his side. I didn’t realize just how cold I was until I felt the warmth of his body against mine. When he curled his arm around me, my blood quickened, and my heart pounded.

Joe and Colby went back to teaching me about the game as well as quizzing Becks about football strategy. As the game progressed, I noticed that Joe’s comments were progressively aimed more at me. Each one quieter than the one before until I almost forgot Colby and Becks were in the room.

I basked in the feel of his hard, muscular body against my side, and I pressed closer to him. “Warmer?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” I smiled up at him and he brushed his hand over my hair before letting it rest on my shoulder.

I tried to tell myself that this was just how the WWE employees are. They flirt, they snuggle, they touch. Granted I’d never worked for a company like that before, but I hadn’t ever spent as much time on the road as a main roster wrestler. I’m sure they needed to connect more with their co-workers due to spending less time with their families. I had to admit I was missing my friends too.

Today, just for today, just for these few hours, I was going to just allow myself to enjoy this. I’d let my imagination fool me into thinking he cared for me. After all, it was just for a few hours. How long was a football game anyway? I deserved a few hours of connection. I laid my head back down on his shoulder and smiled as he placed a kiss on top of my head.

Joe continued to talk about the game for a bit but stopped after a while. Could he tell I wasn’t interested in the game? Or had he just allowed himself to stop and just enjoy cuddling? Seth continued, but I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think about was Joe. The smell of him. The feel of his huge hand covering my shoulder. The feel of his chest rising and falling. The sound of his voice when he spoke.

“You ok?” his deep voice vibrated through me. I peeked up to see his face and nearly melted when he smiled down at me.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I smiled back and looked at the TV before I could lose control and kiss him.

The game was almost over, and Joe’s 49ers were losing, but he smiled despite the loss. I was starting to wish the game would never end. I wanted to stay in this imaginary world for as long as possible.

“What’s for dinner, guys?” Joe asked. Dinner was good. Dinner meant more time with Joe.

Becky’s voice interrupted my bliss. “We actually have a meeting with Marc Carrano.” Well shit.

Seth piped up. “You guys are on your own.” Joe turned to look at Seth and I followed suit, seeing a smirk on Seth’s face.

The game ended and Seth and Becky left.

“Well,” Joe looked down at me. “Want to have dinner with me?” My heart skipped a beat before I could remind myself that no matter what I imagined over the past few hours; we were just friends. Friends go out to dinner together. This is fine. I tried to convince myself. “Sure,” I said.

“What are you in the mood for?” You! I thought.

“Know any place with a nice grilled chicken or some fish?” I asked, reluctantly picking my head up off his shoulder. As I started to pull away, I noticed a slight tic in his fingers that pulled me closer, but it disappeared as fast as it had come.

He smirked down at me. “I do.” He got up, walked to the room’s phone and picked it up, dialing a number. “I need room service.” He waited a moment while they connected his call, “What kind of fish do you have today?” He listened before telling me, “Halibut, Tilapia and Shrimp.”

“Halibut and some steamed vegetables or salad please.” Joe ordered my dish and a couple of chicken meals for himself. “We’re eating here?”

“Yeah,” He grabbed the remote control and sat beside me on the loveseat again, immediately wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close to him. “I like some downtime before the show. When I go out, I always have fans asking for autographs and stuff, which I like, but not ALL the time. I hope that’s ok?”

That was the first time I realized just how much my life was about to change. Well, hopefully. If I was a success, I’d have the same issues Joe had. At least I had Becks, Colby and Joe to help me through.

@mindofasagittaruis

#roman reigns #joe anaoi

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summerinawinterdaylove-blog · 5 years

Text

After Dark

Hi! This is my first fanfiction posting and I’m really really excited about it. If you read, please be sure to share what you think! I have no followers yet so, hopefully, this doesn’t flop 😂😅🤞

A quick 2.8k fic about secretly being friends with benefits with Shawn... and nothing more. Right?

Warnings: Smut, alcohol and drug use, vulgar language, non-vegan food.

The smell of the tender meat doused in red wine and garlic wafted throughout Shawn’s kitchen, a random playlist echoing through his Bluetooth speakers. He’d just gotten in from tour the morning before, taking a day to spend with his family… and now he was intent on seeing you. As soon as he had the chance he was texting you, asking you to come over for a late dinner and a movie, just to hang out.

You’d been friends for years, very close friends at that… who occasionally fucked. Maybe more than occasionally, but… technicalities, right?

He settled on making rib-eyes with the red wine sauce you really loved and a blueberry spinach salad with goat cheese medallions that he’d tried while on tour. As soon as he tasted it, he thought of you and how he had to make it for you. He always pretended that he hated cooking but he found every excuse he could to make a meal for the two of you.

The song turned to Pusher Love Girl by Justin Timberlake causing a smile to form on his face. He picked up his half-full bottle of Corona, taking a quick swig and then singing into it like it was his microphone and he was onstage. He danced around his kitchen, totally unaware of the fact that you’d helped yourself inside.

There you stood, leaned against the doorway, your arms crossed and an amused grin on your face, enjoying your concert for one. It was good to see him, you’d been to a couple of shows when he was nearby but that had been a couple of months ago and you’d never gone quite so long without seeing each other. Seeing him onstage was an experience all on its own but it was nothing compared to being alone with him.

He felt your eyes scanning over his body, admiring how he wore only a grey pair of sweats. His arms looked even more defined than usual and his ass just the slightest bit perkier. He’d definitely been working out. He grinned, checking you out just as openly.

“You look good, Mendes.”

He smiled, “You look pretty great yourself, honey. Now you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come give me a hug?”

Your stomach did somersaults at the mere thought of being close to him again. You missed how his skin felt against yours, his breath hot against your neck, him. Of course, you gave him what he wanted, walking over to where he was and wrapping your arms around his neck. He quickly placed his beer on the counter, wrapping his arms back around you, his hands resting at the spot just above your ass.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, covered in your favorite red lipstick, the perfect contrast to the comfortable clothes you were wearing. You opted for a simple pair of black leggings and one of his pink merch hoodies, nothing too extravagant, but you figured you wouldn’t be clothed for too long anyway. You left your vans at the door, your feet covered only in a silly pair of socks with his face all over them that he’d gifted to you before tour began.

“I really missed you,” his voice sounded raspy and soft as he spoke lowly as though there were other people in his condo that he didn’t want to hear him.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip, biting it between your teeth, your eyes trailing down to his lips this time, “I missed you too, Shawn.”

He slid his hands down just enough to rest on the swell of your ass, pulling you closer against him, “Well we’re together now…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat down, nodding at him in response and then hearing the sizzle of the pan that brought you back to reality. You wanted him to take you right then and there but he’d worked hard on dinner for you and you didn’t want his efforts to go to waste.

“We’ll take advantage of that… as soon as we’re done with dinner, okay? Smells really good.”

He smiled softly, both of you a bit clearly disappointed but you had the rest of the night to love on each other, “Thank you, hun, hopefully it tastes just as good.”

He kissed the top of your head and reluctantly pulled away from your grasp, reaching into his cupboard for two plates, “What do you want to drink?”

“Corona’s fine,” you grinned, walking over to his refrigerator and helping yourself.

As you sat together to eat dinner you enjoyed some good laughs, hearing all about his best tour experiences… and the not so good ones.

“I really wish you could’ve been there to experience it too, you have to promise you’ll come to more shows next time,” he told you, taking the last bite of his steak, his lips wrapping around the fork as he did. “I don’t like going that long without seeing you.”

You chuckled, “Alright, fine, but you’re gonna have to talk some of our other friends into it too. It would look weird if I just showed up to a bunch of shows and we disappeared together randomly, everyone would start to catch on.”

“Well, yeah,” he started, gulping down the last of his Corona before standing to his feet and starting to clean his mess, “but fuck them.”

You laughed, sure that he was joking with you, “Fuck them?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “they might speculate but it’s not really their business if we’re fucking each other or not, is it?”

“Well, no, but-“

“So fuck them,” he grinned at you. “Tell me, Y/N, how did it feel for you? Going without me for three months?”

“Shawn,” you chuckled, “what the fuck are you getting at? Don’t beat around the bush with me.”

“I’m not getting at anything, I’m simply saying I didn’t like going that long so if they’re gonna speculate… I don’t really care.”

“Alright… you’re telling me you didn’t sleep with anyone else for those three months?” You finished your meal, getting up and cleaning your own mess, an eyebrow raised as you glanced at him.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” he finished washing the dishes and uncovered a dish of brownies, slicing into them with a nearby knife. “I got by merely with my hand and the thought of you.”

You weren’t expecting that.

“Oh…” You responded, finishing loading the dishwasher. “I didn’t know we were, like… exclusive.”

Shawn didn’t turn to face you, only continuing to slice into the brownies, but his movements did stall for a moment, “I mean, we don’t have to be… I just thought… it’s okay if you’re sleeping with other people…”

“No, no…” You leaned against the countertop, watching the movement of his hand, not comfortable enough to look in his eyes. “I’m not, I haven’t…”

“Oh,” he sighed involuntarily, “cool, okay.”

He carefully got himself a piece of brownie and extended one to you, “They’re the special brownies so one is more than enough, alright? Please don’t get seconds, I don’t think you’ll be able to move if you do.”

You snorted, taking the brownie and immediately biting into it. This was your typical night together: food, having a drink, getting high, maybe throwing a film on, fucking a time or three and then sleeping. He was never fond of the idea of you driving in a state like that or taking a random uber in the middle of the night and you only ever did this stuff after dark.

You finished your brownies, sharing a glass of strawberry mint infused water and then walking into his bedroom. He started fussing with the tv, putting his Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets dvd into the blu-ray player. You got yourself cozy on his bed, yawning quietly and stretching your tired legs out over his mattress.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this bed,” you poured. “I think I was having withdrawals.”

“You could’ve slept in it while I was gone but you refused to take the key,” he chuckled, finally getting the movie started and getting comfortable on the bed next to you.

You glanced over at him, the dim lighting of the bedroom wasn’t ideal to get in the mood but the mixture of missing him, the high and how good he looked you were already there. Your eyes slowly made their way over the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his chest looked more defined than it had last time you’d seen him, his stomach tighter too. His hands were folded over his lap and although he wasn’t hard, the grey sweatpants left little to your imagination (even though you’d obviously seen his cock before.) One of his legs were stretched straight out, the other bent, his foot tucked under his knee. He looked at peace.

When your eyes worked their way back up to his face you realized that he’d been watching you just as closely, his lips parted just a hint, his eyes completely focused on yours.

“You’re too far away,” he commented.

“Then come closer.”

He needed no more persuasion, swiftly closing the gap between you. He gently placed his right hand on your jaw, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek as he slotted his lips over yours. The kiss was just what you needed, traces of hunger and need making themselves apparent without a single word necessary.

He delicately ran his tongue over your bottom lip and you immediately granted him the access he was longing for, opening your mouth enough to allow his tongue to fall into delicious rhythm with yours.

You smiled against his lips, the entire situation making you overwhelmingly happy. You’d spent so long missing him and wishing he was home, wanting to have a night in with him and spend ages making out with him… and now here you were, his lips against yours and no plans outside of each other for the next 24 hours.

He slid his left hand under your hip, gently guiding you to move onto his lap. You did so, never breaking the kiss, a knee on either side of his body. You could feel his hardening cock resting along the inside of your thigh and it only caused the ache in between your legs to increase.

You needed him so bad.

“Baby,” you moaned into the kiss, shifting just enough to rest your clothed heat on top of his length, rocking your hips desperately over him, needing the pressure. “I know we usually take our time but I just… can’t. Not tonight. It’s been too long.”

“Jesus,” he breathed, knowing you meant it whenever you let baby slip from between your lips, “Okay, no wasting time tonight.”

You sat up enough to pull the hoodie off of your body and reach around to unclasp your bra, tossing them both onto the floor, not even a little worried about where they might land. You leaned back down, your lips pressing against his once more as you started grinding back on forth on his cock again, your patience wearing very thin.

You needed to cum like you needed to breathe.

“Y/N,” Shawn begged, “You’ve gotta… you’ve gotta fucking stop or I’m gonna cum.”

Sighing, you started to tug his sweatpants and boxer briefs down in one go, your mouth going dry at the sight of his cock leaking precum, his tip the most beautiful shade of raspberry you’d ever seen. If the circumstances were any different you would most likely be putting him in your mouth instead.

You carefully moved off him, plopping onto the bed on your back. Raising your hips, you began to pull your leggings and panties down your own body as he finished removing his. He glanced over just in time to see the crotch of your panties utterly soaked and he groaned, his cock twitching at the sight.

“Fuck me,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

He propped himself up with his left arm, positioning himself between your legs and sliding his right hand under your thigh, lifting your leg and showing you how he wanted you to wrap it around his waist.

You were breathing heavily at this point, the anticipation was almost too much to bear. You reached into his bedside drawer, grabbing one of the easily accessible condoms and hastily ripping the packaging open. You slid your right hand over his cock, giving him a light squeeze and eliciting the prettiest moan from his mouth in turn, and then rolling the condom over his length.

“Please,” you asked him, lining his tip up with your folds.

You were so wet at this point that even just sliding him through your slit made a noise. He knew he was fucked.

He leaned his face down, smashing his lips against yours as he positioned his own cock against your entrance, slowly beginning to push in. He knew if he went too quickly you’d be uncomfortable… and he’d cum straight-away.

Taking his right hand out from under your thigh, knowing that at this point you’d understand to keep it there, and reached his hand up to your right breast to lightly twist your nipples. You opened your mouth in a small gasp and he didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

His rhythm was flawless - slow and deep, hitting all of the places that you’d been craving him for three months. Your back arched every time that his tip slammed against your sweet spot, an almost whimper escaping from your own mouth into his in time with his thrusts.

He broke the kiss, touching his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning over your face. His eyes were looking deeply into your own as your cunt throbbed around him, convincing him that you were teetering over the edge.

“I want you, fuck, I want you to cum for me,” he whispered, eyes not leaving yours, rhythm speeding up just a bit. “Can you do that for me?”

Your brows softly furrowed, your lips falling open as your legs started to shake. The pleasure was so intoxicating that you swore you could see stars and your eyes filled with tears. You nodded in response, holding true to your word instantly thereafter. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck as he worked to chase his own orgasm, desperately wanting to get there so he could hold you and talk some more.

You placed your hands on his face, gently guiding him back to your lips. You kissed him hard, expertly working your tongue against his, trying to make his orgasm one of the most powerful, wanting it to be worth the long wait. It was a messy kiss, your teeth colliding every once in a while as he began to thrust more vigorously inside of you.

You broke the kiss, stretching your neck enough to press your lips against the spot of his jaw directly under his ear. You knew it was a sensitive spot for him so you flattened your tongue against the area before gently sucking onto it, not letting up until you were sure it would purple.

His thrusts fell sloppier as he spurted stream after stream of his release into the condom, his body nearly collapsing on top of yours. There was a thin layer of sweat between the two of you, your skin hot and bodies exhausted.

“Missed that so much,” you quietly stated, not able to put the effort forth to speak at a normal decibel.

“Not as much as I did, I bet,” he chuckled weakly, forcing himself up to discard of the condom and clean you both up. “You should go pee, hun, then we can cuddle and finish the last half hour of this movie before bed.”

You nodded, getting up from the bed, a bit wobbly in the best way. You walked into the en-suite, taking a look in the mirror and grinning, taking a moment to breathe everything in. He was finally back.

Once you were done, you walked back into the bedroom and slid into one of his plain white t-shirts. Shawn was already back in bed in a pair of Calvin's, everything cleaned up and the blanket pulled back for you.

You crawled into the bed next to him, melting into his side and letting out a contented sigh. He wrapped his arm around you out of habit, leaning his head onto yours, his bright eyes glued on the last bit of Harry Potter. You, on the other hand, were absolutely exhausted and you doubted that you’d make it through the entire film.

“Goodnight Shawn,” you told him softly.

He smiled down at you, getting you both a little cozier so you could sleep more easily, “Goodnight honey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

It wasn’t long before you were asleep, your body not fighting rest in the slightest. He heard you softly hum and he looked down at you one more time, a wide smile stretched out over his face. He gently kissed your head and whispered, “I love you so much.”

If only he had the courage to tell you when you were awake.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #after dark #my first writing #mine

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mariahschoices · 5 years

Text

One Night Out

This is a slightly AU TRR fanfic revolving around the night that MC met Liam, Drake, Maxwell, and Tariq. Characters and some dialogue have been borrowed from Pixelberry.

Pairing: MC (Riley Brooks) x Drake

Rating: NC17 / NSFW towards the end

Word count: 6,817

__________________________________________________________

Riley Brooks stared at her own reflection in the grungy, cracked bathroom mirror of the dive bar where she’d found herself working for the last two years. Her eyes were greeted with the image of the dark circles under her blue eyes, a half-hazard mess of brown hair that she’d flopped into a bun on top of her head, and what looked like a sliver of spinach from her salad at lunch that she’d hurriedly consumed between waiting tables.

She picked the food out of her teeth, splashed her face, and stood up a little straighter. Her shift was almost over, and damn if she couldn’t accomplish something if she set her mind to it. She had a date scheduled with her bed tonight that she didn’t want to delay any further by wallowing around in the bathroom.

Riley reentered the main room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Daniel, her work husband and main confidant, with whom she could always bitch about their boss over double margaritas.

“Shit! Sorry, Riley,” he quickly apologized. “I was actually just looking for you!”

“Looks like you found me! What’s up, Daniel?” Riley asked, intrigued by Daniel’s sudden sense of urgency and nervous mannerisms, watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Actually, see, what I wanted was.... I kinda wanted to ask you... but I know you’re tired and you’ve worked a double as it is and....”

“Spit it out, Daniel. I think we know each other well enough at this point to be straight with one another? What’s up?” Riley questioned, becoming slightly more concerned with his erratic behavior.

“Well, a table of three just came in, and I really need to jet. I finally matched with that h-o-t hottie on Grindr, and our date is in -” he paused to study his watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“You mean the guy with abs you could grate cheese on?” Daniel reddened under Riley’s questioning. “Is it really a date if you met on Grindr?” Riley continued, before rolling her eyes and nudging him on the shoulder towards the direction of the staff exit.

“Go, man! Who am I to stop true love?”

Daniel responded with an eye roll of his own before an ear to ear smile overtook his whole face.

“Thank youuuuu! I won’t forget this!”

“Yea, yea. Don’t forget to send me a wedding invite!” Riley chirped, before heading over to attend to her late night guests who would probably, hopefully, be her final table of the evening.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Riley, and I’ll be serving you this evening. It looks like Daniel already brought out some waters for you, but what else can I get you all to drink? Or, if you’re ready to order food?” Riley paused, analyzing the motley crew that had assembled in the booth.

The first man on the inside of the far booth was extremely overdressed, in a fancy Italian suit that probably cost more than she’d brought home the past month. He certainly looked out of place, but also comfortable enough around the other two, which ruled out the possibility that he was a kidnap victim being held up in her bar by the others until the extortion money came through.

The second man, on the outside of the same booth, was still certainly overdressed, though he had a few buttons undone for a more a more casual appearance. He looked younger than the other man - maybe a little brother? No, the family resemblance wasn’t there.

Finally, Riley’s eyes rested on the last man, sitting alone on the opposite side of the table. He wore a casual, blue denim button down over a white t-shirt with black jeans. A Canadian tuxedo. Oh, well, everyone does formal wear in their own way, she supposed.

The second man suddenly spoke up, interrupting her inner evaluation of the three men.

“Steaks for the table!” he cheered with a smile.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?” the first man added. He spoke with a posh, preppy accent, enunciating each letter of every word as if everything he’d said was of the utmost importance.

“Er, well, filet mignon does sound good! Unfortunately, the closest thing we have to that in our fine establishment would be the deluxe burger. It’s two half pound patties covered with swiss cheese and loaded with tomato, onion, lettuce, and special sauce. And the whole thing is topped off with bacon! Who doesn’t love bacon?!” she spun the house dish with as much pizzazz as possible in an attempt to appease the men. She really hoped Daniel was enjoying his date, because these men were going to be a pain in her -”

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey... and four deluxe burgers,” the third man finally chimed in, saving her from any further attempts at having to up-sell the bar’s humble menu options.

“Excellent choice!” Riley chirped, quickly making her way to the kitchen to put in their order and gather their drinks before any complaints could be made.

Riley made her way back to the table with a tray of whiskeys. Alcohol would surely make the burgers go down a little easier for the two men who were clearly more accustomed to eating truffle mushrooms and caviar for dinner. Upon arrival, Riley realized that another diner had joined their party of three.

“Oh! Hello there. Looks like I’ll need to grab another tumbler for you gentlemen. I’m your server, Riley.”

She took a look at the newest addition to the table. He dressed similarly to the two men on the opposite side, yet he had a casual air about him like Mr. Denim Shirt, whom he’d seated himself beside.

“Hello, Riley. I’m Liam. These are my friends, Tariq, Maxwell, and Drake,” he motioned towards each one as he spoke their names in the same order she had scrutinized them in. “Sorry I was late. I hope I didn’t disturb your work flow.”

“Disturb my...?” she stumbled slightly in her response, taken slightly aback by his formal way of speaking. “Oh, no problem at all! The more the merrier! Nice to meet you Liam,” she smiled, “and the rest of you too.”

Ding. “That’ll be your burgers now! Let me just go get those for you.” Riley scurried off quickly towards to kitchen, evading Liam’s bright-eyed, awestruck gaze.

______________________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening went by quickly and relatively uneventfully, with Liam seeming to reign in the rest of the group’s behavior with a princely ease. The bar’s only other customer had been a single man who’d had two double shots, complained about his wife, and then had to bounce after receiving a decibel shattering, eardrum bursting phone call from aforementioned wife.

Riley wiped down the counters and removed her apron, ready to turn off the lights and lock up for the evening when she heard the front door chime, alerting her of a new customer entering the bar.

“I’m sorry, we’re cl-” she turned around, locking eyes once again with Liam.

“Oh, hey! Did you forget something. I was just closing up. I didn’t see a wallet or anything in your booth, but I can double ch -”

“No, no. Nothing like that! Thank you so much for being patient with us tonight. I know we probably overstayed our welcome,” Liam paused, but Riley remained silent, neither confirming nor denying that she’d very much wanted to go home and promptly hibernate for a week straight.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if - well, I wanted to invite you to go out with us tonight. Maybe to another bar or club? We’re not from around here and you seemed to really mesh well with the other guys, which isn’t always easy to do, and so... I thought maybe we could repay you with a drink or two.”

Riley pondered his offer, wagering the pros and cons in her head. She really wasn’t interested in Liam, as nice as he had been. He just seemed so.... safe. Boring, really. As if reading her thoughts, Liam interrupted.

“Just as friends. No pressure or anything. Just a thank you. And as a way to celebrate the end of your shift?” he smiled friendly.

“Ah, hell. Why not. I’ve been working non-stop lately. It’d probably do me some good to go out in a social setting and see some people other than my coworkers for once,” Riley agreed, returning Liam’s kind smile. “Just let me go to my locker first. I keep a change of clothes here at work just in case. I’ll meet you out front!”

Riley mulled over her decision as she made her way over to her locker. Why had she told Liam yes? Sure, she had told him it was for socialization purposes, but if she were honest with herself, there was only one thing she wanted to socialize with - her bed. However, Drake was a close second. He had been mostly silent throughout their meal, simply sipping his whisky and digging into his burger with his sleeves pushed up around his elbows. It was what he hadn’t said that intrigued her. Every time she came by and spoke to their table, he had watched her with interest as if he were studying her - like he could read her inner thoughts if he merely looked hard enough. She could tell he was most certainly the strong but silent type. How did he fit into this group of outspoken, fancily dressed men? Who was he to them? She had to find out.

Riley changed into an emerald green dress that smelled slightly of stale french fries, but hey, that’s what she got for storing it in her work locker. In fact, smelling like french fries could be a bonus for some people.

She stepped back to examine herself in the mirror. She still looked banging if she said so herself, the fabric clinging to every curve of her corn-fed figure. It didn’t matter how much running around she did at the bar. Her mother had always told her that she had “baby making hips.” Finally, she slipped out of her work shoes, trading them in for a pair of low, black heels.

Finally, she turned the lights off, locking the door and slamming it shut behind her. She walked around to the front of the building, where a black stretch limousine was parked. Wow, these boys are even more bougee than I thought. She crossed the street quickly, making sure to press down her skirt as a gust of wind hit her out of nowhere, threatening to give the boys a free peep show. The window rolled down slightly, allowing Liam to peek out at her.

“Hey, Riley! Please come in. I hope you don’t mind the limo?” Riley stepped into the limo, trying to refrain the eye roll that was threatening to make itself evident on her face.

“Mind? Oh, no. I don’t mind. I haven’t been in a limo since senior prom, but uh, your average Thursday night seems like a perfect occasion for riding in one.”

“Heh,” Drake chuckled, barely audible from where she was seated. Liam looked up at him with a slightly shocked look, glancing back and forth between the two of them as if they were sharing some inside joke that he couldn’t understand.

“So, waitress, where are we headed?” the young one, Maxwell, piped up.

“It’s Riley, and are you even old enough to drink, Maxwell?”

That remark got the entire group laughing, Max’s face turning redder by the moment.

“I’ll have you know that I’m 23,” he protested, “I just happen to have a baby face.”

Riley chuckled in response, letting Maxwell off the hook from any further ribbing.

“Oh, well that makes two of us! Let’s run down to the corner store for some booze, and I’ll take you guys to my secret spot.”

"Surely you don’t expect me to frequent such an establishment?” Tariq barked, suddenly inserting himself in the conversation.

“Of course she doesn’t, Tariq. She’s much too smart for that,” Drake interjected, suddenly coming to her defense. “I’ll go in with you Riley,” he continued, “if you want, I mean. There’s no need to bring the whole parade into the store.”

“Sure, Drake,” she agreed, surprised that he had offered. The limo rolled to a stop and they hauled their way out and into the shop to get the goods for an evening of adult fun.

____________________________________________

The limo driver pulled up and parked beside of the beach lot. Riley sat up front with the driver to give directions of course, making herself useful. After all, she would be more help up there than in the back, with Liam making goo-goo eyes all over her.

Meanwhile Drake put bags of ice in the cooler, filling it with their drinks so they would keep cool for the duration of their evening at the beach.

Drake didn’t know how the others would be manage that evening, but he loved the beach. He loved the woods. He loved the mountains. He loved being outdoors in general and being one with nature in any capacity. Drake didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else when it was just him and nature.

Drake dragged the cooler out onto the sand, leaving it behind to start gathering sticks for a fire. A small fire pit was already set up from previous party-goers - he just needed to gather some kindling. He figured it would also give Liam a chance to chat up Riley.

Drake saw how Liam had looked at her. As royalty, Liam had always gotten exactly what he wanted and more. Everything had always been given to him before he even had the chance ask for it. Personally, Drake could tell that Riley was too humble for a guy like Liam. She would never be wowed by the limo, or any of his other symbols of lavish overindulgence. But, Drake could also tell that Liam wanted her, so he left it alone.

The boys threw back drink after drink, continuing the party that they’d started at the bar. By the time Drake came back and got the fire going strong, Liam and the others were talking out of their ass with Riley. She seemed to take it all in stride, laughing and taking slow sips of her beer, making eye contact with Drake above the roaring flames of the fire.

The fire seemed to dance in her eyes, warming Drake from the inside out way more than the flames did themselves. He shook his head, knocking those thoughts loose from his mind. The group would be leaving soon to go back to Cordonia, and he would never see her again. There was no sense in entertaining the desire that was bubbling under the surface for this beautiful, young waitress who had no idea who they any of them were.

Liam continued telling stories, more-so to hear himself speak than for any other reason. Maxwell and Tariq had already broken off into their own conversation, and Riley had tuned Liam out ages ago, merely offering the occasional, “mmmhmm,” or, “oh, really?” to keep the charade that she was listening going along. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Drake all night, since they’d arrived at the beach. She knew he felt it too. When they’d locked eyes before, she swore she saw a blush reach his cheeks, right before he quickly looked away and brushed his jeans off, pretending that a grain of sand needed addressing right away, requiring his full attention for the task.

It took a few more “mmhmms” from Riley without a response from Liam before she realized that he had exhausted himself. He laid back on a piece of driftwood, his mouth slightly agape as he snored lightly. Riley chucked, looking around to see how the rest of the group was getting along. Maxwell and Tariq were over 100 yards away, entertaining themselves on the pier with a game of ad-libs. Well, Maxwell was ad-libbling. Tariq seemed like he was just confused, and more than ready to return to whatever ritzy hotel they were staying at to enjoy the mint on his pillow that awaited him.

Looking out across the fire, Riley admired Drake’s rugged handsomeness. His shaggy, wavy brown hair. His dark brown eyes with a story to tell behind them. His slightly crooked nose. The smattering of two-day-old stubble along his jaw. He looked up with a smile, as if he knew that Riley had been studying him. She blushed, quickly rising from her seat as he did the same. She walked a few paces over to where he sat.

“I want to dip my toes in the water. Will you join me?” she requested.

“Are you nuts? That water is going to be freezing, Brooks.”

“Brooks? How did you-”

“Your name tag at the bar. First and last name. Kind of encourages people to stalk you, ya know. You should rethink the idea,” he jested, given Riley a lopsided grin to distract her from any potential thoughts of stalkers.

“How very observant of you, Drake. I think this is the most you’ve said to me all night.”

“Must be the whiskey,” he responded. He’d only had one shot at the bar, and two beers at the beach, but Riley didn’t need to know that he just wanted to talk to her. Liam passing out had been the perfect “in” for him.

Riley gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t push the issue. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the water, glancing over her shoulder at Drake. “Are you coming?”

Her question floated towards him like a whisper in the ocean breeze, and he felt himself being pulled towards her as if he were powerless to deny her request.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, kicking off his own shoes and socks, feeling the sand between his toes. The sand was warm, and he loved being barefoot as much as possible, so he figured this plan wasn’t so bad. He joined Riley a few feet from the tide, where the sand was starting to get wetter, but not quite stepping into the water just yet.

Riley reached out to grab his hand, shocking him and distracting his inner battle with himself about how cold the water was about to be.

“Let’s do it together. I’ll count down from three, and we’ll step into the water at the same time, okay?” Riley announced, and Drake nodded absentmindedly.

“3, 2, 1....” Riley stepped forward, pulling Drake into the water along with her, causing the bottom of his pants to get wet.

“Shit!” Riley yelled, high stepping back out of the water with Drake before releasing his hand. “You were right, that was cold as hell!”

“Heh, actually I think hell is supposed to be hot?” he smirked at her, lifting an arm to run his hand through his hair - a nervous habit. The truth was, he hadn’t felt the chill of the water. All he could feel was her hand in his.

They stood together, collecting themselves silently. Riley watched him with renewed interest, his profile lit up by the light of the moon. She reached out without thinking, lightly pressing the side of his nose and drawing a short line.

“Your nose is crooked,” she noted. “What happened?”

“Ah, it was a long time ago. You don’t want to hear about that,” he waved his hand, trying to dismiss her line of questioning. He didn’t like to talk about himself, and the last thing he wanted was for Riley to pity him.

“Please tell me,” she continued. He looked at her, unable to deny the request in her pleading eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Genuinely interested in him. It had been a long time since someone had shown him such interest.

“I -” he hesitated, looking out over his shoulder to Liam, who was still dozing out of earshot. “Liam. He punched me and broke my nose when we were teenagers.”

“What?!” she squeaked, shocked by his admission. “What a dick. What happened? Why are you still friends with him? What the fuck?!” an onslaught of questions barreled out of her, causing him to chuckle, regardless of the topic at hand. He touched her arm, quieting her.

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

She quieted, urging him to continue elaborating.

“A girl he liked.... liked me instead. Liam is used to getting what he wants and he didn’t take “us” very well. So he punched me.”

Riley’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “So what if he didn’t like it. I don’t like onions, but I’m not going to punch you in the nose if you eat them around me.”

Drake gave Riley a soft smile in return that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t think those are the same thing, but I appreciate it. Like I said, I’m over it now.”

“I just don’t get it,” Riley continued, “Liam seems like such a nice guy. A little into himself, but fine enough. Why did he think that the girl he liked not liking him back warranted a punch in the nose?”

Deciding that it was time to tell Riley the full truth, Drake sighed before admitting, “Well, because Liam is a royal. He’s the prince of a small country in Europe called Cordonia. He’s used to getting everything he wants, even if he doesn’t necessarily deserve it or need it.”

“Yea, you’re funny, and I’m the Queen of England,” Riley rolled off sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she paced along the beach with Drake. When his expression didn’t change, she stopped. “Wait - you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. The only reason I’m still part of his inner circle is because Liam and I have been friends since we were kids. My father served his father, and he died in the line of duty. Liam’s family took in me and my sister when my mother abandoned us and we had nowhere else to go,” Drake hesitated, realizing that he might be oversharing a bit too much with this woman who he barely knew anything about. He rarely met someone who didn’t know who he was, and he rarely talked about his feelings with the people who did know him, so it all just kind of came out with Riley.

“Sorry, to lay all that on you. But yea, that’s why he is the way he is, and that’s why my nose is crooked,” he finished, walking back to douse the remaining embers of the fire before Riley could stop him. This hiss of the dying flame was enough to jolt Liam out of his slumber.

Maxwell and Tariq rejoined the group, each holding onto one of Liam’s arms as he struggled to stay upright.

“Poor Liam doesn’t get out of the palace much to let loose. He can’t really handle his liquor very well,” Maxwell joked, smiling at Riley.

“Maxwell! Liam wanted us to remain undercover, remember. Now Riley knows he’s a royal!” Tariq scolded.

“Don’t worry about it, Max,” he interrupted Maxwell’s quickly escalating panic, letting him off the hook. “I already told her.”

“I don’t know why he keeps you around. The whole lot of you. You can’t do the one thing he asked,” Tariq sneered as he stomped off with Liam in tow, depositing him into the back of the limo with Maxwell.

“Ignore him,” Drake said to Riley. “Can we give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I just live a few blocks from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I’ll walk you. I can take a cab back to the hotel from there or something.”

Riley started to protest, but he was already ducking his head down into the limo to tell the guys to go on without him, and that he would get his own ride back.

The limo drove off and Drake started to make his way down the sidewalk. Riley scurried in her heels to keep pace, admonishing him once she arrived beside him.

“I didn’t even tell you which way it was!”

Drake gave her a sideways smirk and asked, “Well, which way is your place?”

Begrudgingly, she admitted that they were headed in the right direction. “It just so happens that it’s this way. You got lucky.”

Drake chuckled in response, but he didn’t push her any further.

A few more steps into their walk, he realized that their time together was quickly coming to an end. He had to get her talking. To get the most out of their time together.

“So, tell me about you. What’s your story? Did you always want to work at a bar?” he seriously doubted it, but he wanted to find out more about her.

She laughed sadly, shaking her head no. “Is that anyone’s dream job?” she glanced his way before continuing. “No, I was in college for political science. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they supported me financially through school. They both worked two jobs to makes ends meet,” Riley paused, growing a little quieter. “The summer after my third year, they were in a train accident. The train derailed and they,” she sniffled, a tear streaming down her cheek, “they died.”

“I’m so sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business,” Drake apologized, feeling like an asshole for ruining their fun night by bringing up sad topics.

“No,” she wiped her cheek, gathering herself. “It’s okay, Drake,” she smiled softly at him. “I know that you know how it feels to lose a parent.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, not letting go.

“So, no, to answer your question, I did not want to be a waitress or a bartender for the rest of my life, but I had to quit uni to support myself after they passed. I haven’t found my way back yet,” she finished, stopping in front of a brown brick building. “Well, this is my building,” she pulled Drake into her arms, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of crisp pine and campfire smoke.

He stalled, taken slightly aback at first, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a the safe cocoon of his arms. He burrowed his nose in her hair, soaking in as much of the moment as he could before he knew he’d have to leave her. He released her reluctantly, taking a step back. “It was great meeting you, Brooks.”

Riley took the few steps that led up to the door, pausing with her keys in her hand. She couldn’t let him go yet, and before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder at him and uttered, “Would you like to come up?”

She wasn’t the type for one night stands. She’d only had two long term boyfriends, and she knew that she’d probably never see him again, but she felt magnetically drawn to this man. Before she could withdrawn her offer, he took a few steps up to meet her, pressed his hand to her lower back, and nodded subtly in agreement.

She gulped, her heart racing as she inserted her key into the door and turned the knob. What the hell was she doing? Riley, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just wants to come up for coffee. You’re being an idiot. She glanced up again at him, and he smirked at her. She gulped. This man does not want coffee. He wants...

Before she could overthink the situation any more, they were already in front of her apartment door.

Cognizant of her nervous energy, Drake stalled, turning Riley to look him in the eye.

“We don’t have to do anything, Brooks. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, but I can tell you’re nervous,” he smiled sympathetically. “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

His gentlemanly admission calmed her nerves, and renewed the fire in her loins. She studied him with renewed vigor. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular, rugged, handsome... and hers for at least the next hour. She unlocked her apartment and moved aside to let him in behind her.

He looked around for moment, taking in their surroundings. Humble, but cozy, Organized, but adorned with sentimental tchotchkes here and there. A small sofa, easily convertible into a full size bed, making the most of the studio space.

Riley wrung her hands, watching him as he took in their surroundings, finally settling on her face. “I like your place. It’s very you.”

“Simple and unassuming?” she quipped.

“Cute,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her softly.

__________________________________

Riley darted off to the kitchen, pouring drinks for the both of them. She was nervous. She wanted Drake, but she’d also never been in a position where the future was so cloudy. She liked to research things, weigh pros and cons, and make well thought out decisions. She wasn’t used to thinking with her vag.

They took their drinks into the living room, which also happened to be her bedroom. Riley turned on the TV, and she settled on watching MasterChef.

“Is this okay?” Riley asked. She hadn’t really asked Drake what he wanted to watch. She had just picked a program that she wanted to catch up on.

“Oh yea, I love cooking,” Drake responded, smiling at Riley in response.

They sat together on the couch, drinking and watching the show in mostly silence. They gradually started to get more comfortable, with Drake sitting up while Riley laid back along the couch with her legs across his lap. Absentmindedly, Drake began to rub slow circles along the inside of her ankle, his hand drifting up her calf throughout the episode. While innocent enough, it was enough to wake up Riley’s senses and distract her entirely from the show.

Two can play at this game. Riley matched the pace of his hand’s ascension. As his hand rose up her leg, she gripped the side of her dress and lifted it, keeping pace with his hand, slowly revealing more and more of her thigh, until the side of her underwear was peaking out.

“Do you see this idiot? Can’t cook to save his fuc -” Drake finally glanced in her direction, noticing the predicament that they were in. “Fuck,” he finished.

Drake reared back, simultaneously losing all interest in the show and repositioning his body to lay over Riley’s, positioning a leg between hers. He kissed her, leaving a soft trail of kisses along her jar and up to her ear.

“That dish looked fucking disgusting, I think I have something better to eat right...” his hand traveled the remaining distance to the apex of her thighs, “here.”

Riley shuddered under his hand, feeling as he grew hard against the exposed skin of her thigh.

“Is this okay?” Drake whispered, moving his arms to either side of her, hovering above her body before continuing his movements.

“Yes,” Riley responded, nodding her head urgently and wrapping her hands around one of Drake’s to relocate it, moving it back to her crotch.

He growled with hunger, leaning over her body to suck the soft flesh of her neck, working across her collarbone as he rubbed her softly through her underwear. He wrapped one arm under her back, pulling her into an upright position.

She was confused, but only for a moment, quickly coming up to speed as he slipped his hand under her dress, alongside her thigh. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the dress up her body and over her head.

Riley pushed herself up further, now on her knees. “You’re not nearly naked enough,” she admonished Drake, pushing him down to lay on the couch as she straddled his thighs. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to reveal the thin white tee beneath. She pulled the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, raising the fabric to reveal his hard abs and a smattering of hair.

Drake wrapped his arms around her, picking her up as he stood from the couch, depositing her safely to the ground to pull out the bed before things progressed any further. Tinkering around until he was finally satisfied with his efforts, he picked her up again and threw her on the newly constructed bed. She laughed momentarily at his caveman antics, but quickly quieted once he took off his button down and pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him half naked. No wonder her could throw her around like she was a pillow. This man was solid as a rock. She’d have to ask him later how he stayed so fit.

Drake leaned over her to unhook her bra, pausing to suck each nipple and kiss each breast for a few moments, a sense of urgency taking over as he shifted further down the bed.

He leaned between Riley’s legs, wrapping an arm around each thigh and holding onto her luscious hips. He kissed her through her panties that were thoroughly soaked by this point. Satisfied by how aroused she was, he hooked his teeth onto them and peeled them down her legs, resuming his place between her thighs once it was done.

He licked his way up her slit, causing her to jolt forward into his mouth as her hips lifted off the bed. He gripped her hips tighter and began to lick her. Slow and gentle at first, from bottom to top. He stiffened his tongue and inserted the full length of it into her, siphoning in and out, lapping up all of her juices as her head fell back and she started to moan.

“Drake!” she gasped. Her moans added further fuel to the fire, encouraging him to work twice as hard so that he could hear more of them. He wanted her to unravel under his mouth before he ravaged her body.

He removed his tongue, replacing the empty space with two fingers, leaning down to suck on her bundle of nerves at the same time. He alternated between sucking and licking her clit, curling his fingers as he pumped in and out of her.

With one final, “Drake!” he felt the dam burst within her, and she coated his fingers with her sweet cream. He paused to look at her as he sucked his fingers clean of her.

He stood from the bed, unbuckling his belt and carefully unzipping his pants, sliding them down his legs. His dick was as big and as firm as the rest of his body, and Riley’s mouth instantly started salivating like it was a cold popsicle on a hot summer day. Wordlessly, she leapt off the bed and got down on her knees in front of him.

“Riley, you don’t have to - oh!” she took him in her mouth and quickly got to work, taking him deep into her mouth and throat as far as she could go, her saliva getting it nice and wet for the next stage of the evening. She leaned back until just the head was in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and suctioning the tip and she simultaneously pumped up and down his girth with her hand. She felt a slight twitch before he gently pressed her chest, releasing himself from her mouth and urging her to lay back on the bed.

She leaned back with anticipation as he hovered over her body, his member pressing between her legs, a thigh on either side of him. He leaned down to kiss her, slipping his tongue in her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip gently before asking, “Condom?”

“Oh, uh, yes...” she dug around in her bedside drawer for a moment, retrieving what they needed. She tore open the foil and slid it down the length of him as quickly as she could, unwilling to wait much longer for him to be inside of her.

He leaned over her body, offering one last soft kiss as he positioned himself at her entrance. Swiftly, he slid himself inside her body, causing her to gasp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing as she adjusted to his girth, stilling his movements entirely.

“Yes, yes! More than okay! Move!” she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her further. He needed no more encouragement. He grasped onto the sides of her thighs, positioning her body to meet his every thrust as he pounded into her, causing her to howl in pleasure.

“Oooohhh, Drake. Fuck!” she groaned deliriously, generating a cocky smirk to rest on his face.

“That’s what we’re doing,” he responded sarcastically. Before she was able to return his quip with one of her own, he doubled down and leaned over her body, resting his weight on his forearms for stability. He slid in an out of her body, almost coming out of her entirely before thrusting deep within her, making her feel so empty and then instantly filling the void within her, bringing her to the edge of delirium. She felt so good, he was having trouble containing himself. He tried to think of anything and everything that would keep him from getting off. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

He withdrew, causing her to whimper instantly. “Drake, what -“

“On your knees,” he commanded smoothly, and she followed his instructions right away. He pressed himself against her until she started to squirm, pressing herself back against him until he went inside just a little. He slid his arm underneath her body, angling her sweet ass so he could reach her from the back. He started to rock inside of her as she groaned and wailed with pleasure, rubbing his hand in circles and winding her body tighter than a spring. It didn’t take long before she burst, her muscles spasming down around him as she climaxed.

“Thank god,” he murmured, too quiet for Riley to hear, quickly finding release of his own after taking a few final pumps within her.

He withdrew from her body slowly, discarding the condom in the bin and cleaning himself off. He lay beside her, wrapping his arm around her safely as they both recovered, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.

__________________________

Drake woke up a few hours later in an unfamiliar place, momentarily forgetting what had occurred until her saw Riley laying beside him, hair fanned out across the pillow. He found a blanket on the lounge chair beside of the bed, and he draped it across her body so she wouldn’t get cold.

Hmmm... that’s a nice chair. Maybe we could trying doing it there next time. Next time? What was he thinking. As amazing as Riley was, he didn’t see how they could possibly make a real relationship happen between them. Everybody knows that long distance relationships never work. Drake started to get dressed, fumbling around for his clothes in the dim lighting.

“Drake?” Riley whispered, her voice barely audible with sleep. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I was going to wake you before I slipped out. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Our flight home is actually scheduled for tomorrow morning, er, I guess it’s this morning now.”

“Oh,” she stated sadly. “Well, let me give you my number. Maybe we can text or Facetime or something?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, Brooks. I’d love that.”

He typed her number into his phone and she walked him to the door, the blanket he’d covered her with wrapped around her body. He leaned down to kiss her, sweet and soft, pouring so much emotion into it that you would have thought he was her longtime lover going off to war or something. She shook off the thought. She knew what she had been getting into, after all.

After Drake left, she tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Drake had really lit a fire within her - mind, body, and soul. She truly hoped that he would call.

About 15 minutes after Drake left, Riley thought she heard a knock at the door. Who would be bothering her this early? It wasn’t even light out yet. Surely enough she heard it again, three more raps at the door. Could it be him?

She quickly burritoed herself, covering all of her exciting bits with the blanket around her. She opened the door, expecting to see Drake, but...

Maxwell waited behind the door, perking up with interest as she opened it, trying not to let his eyes wonder once he realized what she was wearing.

“Um, hi, Riley! How would you feel about taking a trip to Cordonia?”

#choices stories you play #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #the royal heir #pixelberry #my fic #30 diamond scene #n*fw

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years

Text

Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed

Boundaries part two

Queen Lucy Valois Rys is legally married to King Brad Rys of Cordonia and his childhood friend, Drake Walker. How exactly does their relationship work?

This fanfic based on Choices The Royal Romance follows on from ‘Together, Apart. You can read it here; part one, part two, part two a, part three

Disclaimer - some of the characters and locations are the property of Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them for my own pleasure and hopefully others will enjoy it too.

Word count 2333

Not suitable for Under 18s

Please note that I do not have first hand experience of what Lucy and Brad are doing together - but I did some research...

The next day, Lucy got the limo to stop at the post office on the way to the Palace, and went inside to collect the parcel. The King had left the evening after he revealed the fantasy he wanted her to help him with, then summoned her for ‘urgent’ business’ in the morning. Drake was a little peeved, but wanted to stay behind as Lucy had predicted, to welcome the new foal when it arrived.

Brad had put his order in the morning before, and trusted that the parcel would arrive in time for her to pick up, which it had. She was of course recognised wherever she went, and the Queen suddenly turning up at a post office was newsworthy, so she wore a headscarf and dark glasses, even though the limo parked outside was a bit of a giveaway. Luckily the postmistress was too busy to pay her much attention and she got back to the car without incident.

She arrived at the Palace and was greeted by the staff, and ushered to Brad’s study for a private lunch. She had opened the parcel in the back of the limo and taken out the butt plug and some lube for him. She got up as he entered the room, and slipped the articles into his hand as she embraced him and kissed his cheek. He blushed a little as he drew away from her, putting her gift into his jacket pocket. She had made sure that they were alone and Brad had said that apart from someone bringing food, they were to have no interruptions.

‘Is this – what I think it is? He asked, and she nodded, grinning.

‘Maybe you’d like to try it on – I mean in for size’ she smirked ‘Then you won’t be trying to hide it from anyone’ He swallowed hard.

‘How about the other…’ he ran his finger round his collar, trying to loosen it a little ‘package, can you keep it secret?’ She nodded

‘It’s in my suitcase, which is locked, I have the only key, and I’ll put it in a safe place after we eat’ she replied. She gestured toward the bedroom, where the ensuite bathroom was. ‘Do you want any help?’ Brad shook his head

‘no, I umm – I’ll be okay, thanks’

‘There were two’ Lucy explained ‘That’s the smaller one. Use plenty of lube’

‘Keep your voice down’ he hissed, and she bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing out loud.

‘You’re so adorable and awkward’ she smiled ‘I love you so much’ He grinned nervously.

‘I – I’ll just pop to the bathroom’ he said, and disappeared. Lucy summoned the staff to bring in the lunch, and waved them away to set it out on the table by the window that opened onto the balcony outside. There was a tureen of hot soup, fresh bread, soft butter, salad and fresh fruit. It wasn’t long before Brad reappeared, a strange expression on his face. He sat gingerly and took a while shifting about until he was comfortable.

‘How is it? asked Lucy

‘it – it’s a little strange but pleasurable – if I can get comfortable. I’ll have to make sure I’ve got a nice soft seat for the meeting this afternoon.’ Lucy raised her eyebrows

‘You’ll leave it in for the meeting?’

‘If I can. I’m eager to follow it through’ He gave her a lust blown glance, and she felt heat between her thighs. She lifted the lid to the soup and served them both. They ate in silence, Lucy throwing glances at him from time to time.

‘Stop it’ he grinned ‘I’m perfectly fine’ She smiled and continued eating

‘So am I invited to the meeting?’ she asked ‘the message did say it was urgent’ Brad put down his spoon – he had eaten sparingly.

‘You know why the message said that’ he said ‘But you can if you like. You may need to cover for me if anything – goes wrong’ he coloured slightly. Lucy reached over and patted his hand.

‘I’m sure everything will be fine, but I’ll be there for you’ she smiled.

The meeting was reasonably uneventful, if made more interesting knowing that Brad was adjusting to his sex toy. She noticed him losing concentration from time to time and made sure to pull him out of it. He was eager to leave the meeting, and vanished into the bathroom before dinner – obviously to try the slightly larger buttplug. There was no time to talk before they sat down to eat in state with a few visiting members of the court and a diplomat from Monaco, and again Lucy kept a close eye on Brad. He ate little and again was distracted, but he was polite and attentive enough to make the diplomat feel as if he was welcome, and Lucy made sure to augment that by engaging him in conversation whenever Brad looked uncomfortable. At last the meal was over, and Brad rose, as did everyone else, as per protocol.

‘You must excuse me gentlemen, I am fatigued’ Brad said ‘Please feel free to gather in the library for drinks and cigars, I have a busy day tomorrow.’ He bowed slightly and the others followed suit. As they left the dining room, he loosened his collar and made his way as quickly as he could to the Royal suite, again leaving instructions that they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.

‘Dear God’ he gasped, taking his tie off ‘I thought that would never end.’ He put his hand in the small of Lucy’s back and guided her along their private corridor to her room ‘I think we had better use your quarters for our - experiment.’ As soon as they had entered her room and closed the door, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeply, then dropped to his feet to kneel and look up at her urgently.

‘Lucy, I’m all yours. I am eager to go to the next stage’ She smiled and reached down to ruffle his hair.

‘Good, I did some research of my own in the limo. Go to the bathroom and wait until I call you – and you can undress for me while you’re there.’ Brad disappeared, and Lucy went to open her suitcase. She had a few extra items apart from the harness, and laid them out on the bed before undressing.

Brad stripped in the bathroom and eased out the buttplug to check that all was clean, then eased it back in again. It had been stimulating wearing it to the meeting, and it was not hiding it that had been the problem, but the tenting of his trousers. Before he had left the table he had made a supreme effort to think of the most unappealing and boring thing he could think of – which luckily was the very matter they had been discussing at the meeting, but as soon as he was back in their quarters he was rapidly hardening again.

His heart pounded with anticipation as he waited, and he wiped his sweaty palms on a towel when he heard Lucy calling him through. His knees very nearly gave way when he saw her standing wearing the strapon harness, along with stockings and suspender belt and a black and red bustier that thrust her breasts upwards and gave her a spectacular cleavage. The ensemble was completed by a pair of black stilettos that accentuated her long slender legs. He fell to his knees and crawled toward her.

‘Lucy, my goddess’ he croaked ‘You look spectacular. How am I so lucky?’ She gave a sly smile.

‘I like this role’ she said ‘It’s very powerful - I have the King on his knees’ she ruffled his hair again, then bent down on what seemed impossibly long legs to whisper in his ear ‘and I’m going to fuck you’ He shivered and hardened.

‘I’m all yours’ he croaked ‘What do you want me to do?’ A slow haughty smile crept across her lips as she straightened up, towering over him. He noticed the skimpy matching thong that she wore, which sent a delicious shudder through his body.

‘Get on the bed’ she said ‘Lie on your back’

‘Yes ma’am’ Brad said, and did as he was told. Lucy followed him, crawling on all fours onto the mattress, gently nudging his legs apart and straddling one of his thighs. She sat up and looked down at his arousal

‘Hmm, this is a real turn on for you, huh Brad’ she said, and he nodded vigorously

‘You have no idea. I do hope it’s at least pleasant for you’

‘It’s stimulating to be in a position of power’ she said ‘but I’m aware it comes with a certain amount of responsibility’ Brad grinned

‘Welcome to my life’ he said ‘and I’m giving that power and responsibility to you because I know you won’t misuse it’ Lucy leant over him and his breath hitched as he caught sight of her impressive cleavage, her hair falling over his chest. She lowered her hips and brushed her sex to his length.

‘Do you want this?’ she asked, and he groaned ‘You have to have this’ she sat up and stroked the strap on ‘before you can have me’ He nodded.

‘Whatever you say ma’am’ he said huskily. Lucy knelt between his thighs and lifted his knees up, examining the butt plug. She reached over to the bedside table where she had left the lube, and made a show of opening the tube and putting some on her palm before liberally coating the dildo strapped into the harness she wore. Brad watched with fascination and some trepidation, biting his lip and reaching up to the bars of the bedstead behind him to have something to hang on to.

Lucy gave him a slow smile, and reached down to the end of the buttplug, twisting it slightly. Brad groaned and gripped the bars.

‘What have we here?’ She murmured ‘It looks like you’re all ready for this bad boy’ she stroked the dildo and he gasped ‘Is that right, your Majesty? Do you want this?’ He nodded vigorously.

‘Yes ma’am’ he answered hoarsely, and she tugged gently on the buttplug. He hissed through his teeth. ‘If you want to stop’ she said before giving it another little tug ‘Just say ‘maroon’. Can you say that for me now?’ Brad nodded

‘Maroon’ he hissed, and braced himself. ‘Go on…’ Slowly Lucy twisted and pulled until the butt plug came out with a ‘plop’. Her eyes widened at the size, and put it carefully to the side before positioning herself ready to use the dildo, applying more lube around his anus. As she had pulled, Brad arched his back and cried out in a sound that was part pain, part pleasure. ‘Please’ he begged ‘Use it now, Lucy’

Lucy lined the dildo up and started to ease it in. Brad groaned, and she continued to push slowly in, checking that it was moving smoothly, the lube ready by her side. Brad shook and shuddered, gripping the bars at the head of the bed, and Lucy became a little concerned. She got a little more lube ready as she pulled slowly out. She applied it and slid back in, a little more smoothly. Brad’s length was hard and he writhed and groaned with pleasure as she set up a slow shallow rhythm, loving the look on his face and his reaction. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his manhood, and he arched his back off the bed.

‘Oh god Lucy’ he shouted ‘don’t stop!’ as she stroked steadily but gently into him, she gripped his length firmly in synch, and it didn’t take long before she could see he was about to come.. She leaned forward over him, her soft breasts overflowing the bustier and brushing his chest, and with a final arching of his back and a shout he came long and hard, a warm jet of semen shooting high up over his belly onto his chest and her clothes and breasts. Gently Lucy sat back up and withdrew carefully, unstrapping the harness and putting it to the side, resting it on a clean towel then detaching the dildo, padding out to the bathroom to wash it and the butt plug and fetch washcloths to clean the two of them down. Brad lay back breathing hard, eyes unfocussed gazing at the ceiling. She went back out to wash out the cloths, then returned to lie next to Brad. He curled his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

‘That was – incredible’ he murmured ‘Thankyou so much – I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant for you?’ Lucy laughed.

‘No, it was hot watching you, and I got some idea of what it’s like for you boys. I don’t know how you can maintain all that thrusting though, I’ll probably feel it tomorrow.’

‘Oh Lucy, I hadn’t thought of that my love, let me draw you a hot bath.’ He murmured. I’ll join you and return the favour – anything you like, my darling’

‘You can start by snuggling’ sighed Lucy ‘Right now I don’t want to move.’

‘Okay, but just for a short while.’ Brad conceded ‘A hot bath and a massage will help – you wait and see’

After the frantic, passionate and almost savage session they had, everything changed – it slowed and became tender and loving. Brad drew a deep hot bath and got in, Lucy following him to sit between his thighs while he gently washed her body and hair and massaged her shoulders. When they got out he laid her down on the bed and massaged her hips, thighs and lower back with scented oil. That soon changed to a slow sensuous exploration of her body with fingers and tongue, and she found her release once - twice – and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Tagging anyone who liked, reblogged or writes poly

@dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @aworldoffandoms @debramcg1106 @innerpostmentality @katedrakeohd @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @hopefulmoonobject @lauraj217 @classylady1234 @indiacater @sleepwalkingelite

#two's company #royal romance au #king liam x MC

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elizabeth-234 · 5 years

Text

Chapter Eight

Someone to Care

Chapter Seven

“You will never guess what happened.” She said as she sat down across from Ned in the lunchroom. Peyton opened her brown sack lunch and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple with a prominent brown spot. Ned looked up from his chicken salad sandwich and smiled, a piece of lettuce falling from his mouth. Peyton indicated where it rested on his shirt and he hastily picked it off. She had been practically vibrating all morning, waiting for the right time to tell Ned.

“I got accepted to an internship program I applied to.” Peyton smiled wide and Ned stared back.

“For who?”

She knew that’s exactly what he would ask first and casually lifted her hand to her face in order to pretend to examine her nails.

“Oh, just at Stark Industries.”

She would’ve given anything to get a picture of Ned’s expression in that moment. He calmly set his sandwich down, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and leaned across the table. In the most serious tone he said, “Peyton, would you mind repeating that for me? I thought I heard you say that you got an internship with Stark Industries. A company famous for not having interns.”

“Well, my dear friend. I am pleased to say that your hearing is still perfect and I can confirm that is precisely what I said.”

“Dude, no way. That’s awesome!” His quick enthusiasm for her was just one of the many reasons Ned was an amazing best friend.

They did their secret handshake. It started with a fist bump, handshake to elbow touch, and blast off with jazz fingers. Their original handshake had begun as a simple fist bump but slowly, over their friendship, had become longer and more complicated. It even transformed depending on the occasion, most notably adding a series of claps adapted from The Parent Trap, one of their favorite movies.

She had known objectively that Ned would be happy for her, but still, she worried. He was such a good friend and maybe this was his breaking point. He had been trying all freshman year to get an internship somewhere. They all said that although he had great promise, to come back in a few years. He needed to get some notches on his belt and once he was older, they would welcome him with open arms. It was difficult to watch the excitement in his face turn to disappointment with every letter that came back. He hadn’t been his normal, happy self all year, adding to Peyton’s guilt of not telling him everything.

“Really, congrats. What are you going to be doing there?”

“Oh, you know, nothing big. I’ll just be cleaning beakers, getting coffee, and paperwork. That sort of thing, probably.”

Peyton felt bad lying to her friend but her resolve stood strong. This was safer for him. Better to not know the real reason or what she was actually going to be doing.

The bell rang and they headed to English, one of her least favorite subjects. Ned and her sat of opposite sides of an isle. So, although technically easy to pass notes, the gap for the walkway caused some slight problems. This hour Ned was not to be deterred. He passed her the first note.

N: So when does it start? You still coming over to help build the Death Star? Can’t believe you are going to be working with Tony Stark! (That was underlined twice.)

P: This weekend actually! Starting off helping with some sort of convention and I know! More like working for him. Rain check on our plans?

N: That started fast. You better be ready to build away when you get back and you have to tell me everything!

Ned was in the middle of passing his response when it was snatched out of his hand.

“Hey! Give that back” Peyton whispered furiously. A dull red creeping up her neck. She really didn’t want the news of her internship to spread around the school and, knowing Flash, he would spread the news like wildfire.

“Just hand it over,” Ned chimed in trying to whisper so he wouldn’t bring the teacher’s attention. Flash continued walking to the garbage at the front of the classroom, giving them a smile over his shoulder. He made sure it was hidden in front of Mrs. Roma but as soon as he turned around, opened and read it on his way back to his seat. A frown replaced his smile. Peyton watched, head turning to follow his movements as he passed her. He deftly moved out of the way of her outstretched hand. But did not dodge the second hand that stole the letter out of his fingers. MJ, who sat two seats behind her, brought it up in a kind of salute and slide it into her bag. Hopefully, she would return it later.

Peyton swung her body forward again at a question directed at her.

“And what, Miss Parker, is the significance of Caliban using the language that Prospero taught him, against him in the end?”

“Um. Well, I think. It has to be because. I’m sorry, I don’t know Mrs. Roma.”

“And that class, is why it is important to pay attention to our discussion and not to others. Now, please turn to act one scene two to look at this fascinating interaction.”

She brought her palms under her thighs and squeezed her body tense. Peyton had known the answer, having read the exact scene on the subway to school this morning but Flash had distracted her. She didn’t want him reading their note. It was none of his business and it was rude. But, she should have been paying attention and not let him get under her skin so much.

Although English wasn’t her favorite subject, she still enjoyed being at school. Contrary to popular opinion among teenagers, Peyton loved the classroom setting. She could sit listening all day to her peers spout their knowledge. Discussions were even better. When two of her classmates might disagree but heard the one another out and learned from it was one of Peyton’s favorites. School was a place where she could be just Peyton and be good at something all herself. It was one of the reasons she worked so hard to get into Midtown. May and Ben had always encouraged her education and it had meant the world to her that she could go to this school.

Peyton didn’t want to worry May if her grades started slipping. So she made sure to pay extra attention the rest of the week. She even raised her hand in English in order to make up for her previous blunder. It had taken all her willpower to move her hand upward and speak in front of the class. Her response lacked the eloquence the rest of her classmates’ had, but she had done it. The coolest thing was that nobody, besides Mrs. Roma, batted an eye. Ned didn’t break from taking a copious amount of notes, Liam was still asleep next to the window, and even Flash was trying to throw paper at the back of her head. She smiled at her small accomplishment.

Later, at the bottom of her bag she found a familiar looking piece of paper. The word “Congratulations” was scrawled across the bottom.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

For the rest of the week she came to the tower after school or when decathlon practice was done. Pushing her patrols to afterward. This was actually helpful because she got to expand her usual area. Once she was exactly three blocks out and one to the right of Stark Towers, she would go into this fairly clean alley and change into her suit. From there she would patrol that area for a bit before making her way home, continuing to be on the lookout. Either way it was worth it because of all the time she was spending with Mr. Stark. They had just put the final touches on her suit yesterday.

It had been amazing to test it knowing how much effort went into the design. The most obvious change was the sleeker design, which was everything that Peyton had dreamed of. Her top and bottom remained the tones of the original but they decided to make her sleeves red and had the blue of her pants come up past her waist. Mirroring her oblique muscles. Mr. Stark had been trying to convince her to go with his gold and red theme but she liked the idea of sticking with her own colors. She had designed the black spider adorning the front. It now had a larger, bulbous body with spindle like legs, stretching out across her chest. The protective eyewear, which contracted and expanded, helped her block out all unnecessary light and distractions. Allowing her to focus her senses on what she needed as opposed to being bombarded with unwanted disturbances.

One thing was bothering Peyton and that was when wearing the new suit an onlooker could tell that she was female. She was small for her age, but the suit was skintight. It wasn’t that big of a deal, Peyton tried telling herself. But there was still a knot in her stomach when she thought about it. What if nobody wanted her as a girl? What if they thought she couldn’t help anymore? The time she spent as Spidergirl had become so vital. Had become an integral part of her. She wasn’t sure she could accept it if people no longer looked to her. She could tell Mr. Stark but she didn’t know if they were even there yet in their relationship and he had enough going she didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily.

She wasn’t even aware of all the extra features embedded in it, Mr. Stark keeping some a secret. But she was surprised over how much freedom Mr. Stark gave her while they were working on it. He valued her input through the whole process and realized that most of the time she would know what she needed. He did add additions based on his experiences, for which she was grateful. Peyton had felt that much safer knowing Mr. Stark had worked on it. He had said there was one more thing that needed to be added but wouldn’t tell her what, no matter how hard she pleaded. She had even pulled out her sad, puppy face, the one that always got May to give in. That still hadn’t worked.

She ran into the building. The subway had been held up and as a result she was really late. Scanning her badge, she took a second to admire the Stark Industries logo and started rushing to the employee elevator. The doors opened and she hurried toward them but wasn’t paying attention and slammed into someone also trying to get into the elevator. Papers flew everywhere and her bag clattered to the floor.

With haste she bent down and started picking up the papers, her hands slightly shaking.

Without looking up she said, “I am so sorry ma’am. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I didn’t mean to run into you.”

A pair of sleek black pumps came into her view but still she wouldn’t look up.

“It’s alright. No harm done.” The pumps disappeared a knee came into Peyton’s view. The lady bent down to help her. Silently they picked the rest of the papers up. As they stood up Peyton continued examining the fancy heels, aware she was just being awkward now. They really were elegant shoes. She opened her mouth to apologize once more when a hand extended her ID badge back to her.

“Please, don’t worry about it Miss Parker.” Cautiously she took the badge back and went to pick up her bag. When she turned back the blonde lady was holding the elevator door open for her.

“Just Peyton, please. Thank you, Miss?” She trailed off uncertainly and the lady laughed.

She was smartly dressed in a light blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes. It had a scoop neck and was slim fitting down to just above her knees. Her blonde hair was gathered on top of her head in a tight bun, bangs resting on her forehead. Peyton imagined that she was someone who was used to getting the job done and looking good while doing it.

“Well, just Peyton, I’m Pepper Potts. But please, call me Pepper. What floor?”

After telling Miss Potts what floor to go to, Peyton was on the receiving end of a searching look. She knew who Pepper Potts was. Everyone knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to talk to her. What was she even supposed to say? You’re so many peoples, including my own, role model for running this huge company and being amazing? That would just sound stupid.

“I wasn’t aware that Tony had any interns.” Miss Potts said continuing to look at Peyton. Her face, she was sure, would never go back to a normal color.

“Oh, um. Yeah, it’s a new position. This is my first week here.”

“Hmm. Well then. Let me be one of many to wish you welcome here.”

“Thank you Miss Potts.” 

“Pepper,” she said with a smile.

The elevator’s opened and Miss Potts motioned for Peyton to go first. Peyton stepped off and into the room when she felt Miss Potts leave as well, gracefully walking toward Mr. Stark. His back was toward them as he, she assumed, was working on something.

Peyton cautiously glanced around the lab to see if her suit was lying about but there was no hint of red or blue to be seen. Mr. Stark had promised he wouldn’t tell anyone her secret, until she wanted.

The blonde woman walked forward and began exchanging pleasantries with Mr. Stark. It was entertaining to watch them banter back and forth. Miss Potts could hold her own against the famous Stark sass.

“Pepper. Don’t you look ravishing, as always.”

Miss Potts rolled her eyes and said, “Look who I ran into on the elevator. Quite literally, actually,” giving Peyton a wink.

Mr. Stark turned to see her standing there, awkwardly clutching her backpack. His face beamed when he saw her.

“Hey Kid. How’s it going? Ready to get working?”

Despite her embarrassment, Mr. Stark never failed to make her smile. She felt a warmth ignite in her when he asked her how her day was going. It was such a simple question but Peyton loved it. That question made her imagine that Mr. Stark cared about more than just this mission. It made her feel like he cared.

Peyton could see Miss Potts smiling at them talking. She had just told Mr. Stark about how Flash had tripped in the middle of the hallway, having his books spill all over the floor. She felt bad at laughing but it was pretty funny. Mr. Stark in turn told her about one of the first times Rhodey got into the War Machine suit and had tripped, twisting his feet together. It ignited his flight rockets so he crashed into the side of Stark towers.

“There’s still a Rhodey shaped dent there to this day. I left it because it brings character to the building, plus I can make fun of him for it.” Peyton laughed.

“It can’t be as bad as that one time where you, before you installed the filtration system, had to pee…” Miss Potts started before Mr. Stark interrupted her but it was too late to stop Peyton’s imagination from running wild.  

 “And that’s enough of that. Lovely to see you again Pepper. You should definitely wear that color blue again.”

“Yes, yes. Here are the papers you need to sign.”

“Of course, I will be sure to send them to Sloane.”

“Selena and please do.” She gave him a stern look and then turned toward Peyton.

“Don’t let him get you into trouble? It was nice meeting you Peyton.” She smiled and left toward the elevator, leaving just her and Mr. Stark in the room.

He came over and squeezed her shoulder, looking at the closed doors.

“What a woman, kid.”

Thank you :)

Chapter Nine

#spiderman #Iron Man #MCU fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #irondad #irondad fanfiction #female peter parker #peter is female #peyton parker #eliza writes #someone to care

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mareshmallow · 6 years

Text

Second Time’s a Charm? pt III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iv)

Without warning I follow him and Cal scrambles to follow. He blessedly keeps quiet as we make our way to the caf. Or more specifically the door leading to the stage, except we only needed to get under it. We were responsible for providing an exit from the caf if we needed to avoid anyone in the room and get out quickly.

There was a reason I was responsible for this. I easily twist through the passage unlike Cal who curses after bumping his head for the third time. This time I don't snicker. The first time he'd turned bright red and as satisfying as it had been it was wasting time.

The passage comes to a stop and this is the difficult part; opening the hatch. It was well out of my reach and a ladder was usually used but it wasn't here now like I thought it would be. "Fuck," I breathed. I hear a louder 'shit" behind me as Cal takes this in as well. "Who the hell took out the ladder?"

"You've been here before?" I ask, too surprised to keep the silent treatment up.

"Yes," is the only reply he gives without any further explanation.

I grimace at the thought of my next words, of what would have to be done. "I need you to boost me up."

He whips his head at me. "Relax," I snap. "I already got my cootie shot if that's what you were worried about."

His nostrils flare. "That's not what I'm worried about."

Oh? "So what is it then?"

He stares at me like I'm an idiot. I gesture for him to get out with it. He sighs and mutters something under his breath. I tilt my ear at him in an exaggerated movement. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Tiberias. Could you speak a little louder?"

"You could get hurt."

I make a sound between a laugh and scoff. "I'm sure that would haunt you for all your days, now hurry."

"Fine," he grinds out. "But it's your funeral."

You're already dressed for it, I think.

"Oh please, a little fall won't hurt me, I've had worse."

He kneels and I place my foot in the cradle of his arms. "On the count of three," I tell him. "One, two-- wait!"

"What?" he asks. "Oh seriously, right now?" he huffs out as I take out my phone. I shoot him a glare. "It's dark and unless you have fucking night vision then how else do you expect me to see?"

"You got a new phone," he murmurs before snapping back to the task at hand. I shift uncomfortably. I didn't expect him to remember but he did.

I shine the light in his eyes and he recoils. "Good it works, now get down."

His eyebrows lift suggestively and I smack him. "Not that like that you dirty minded creep."

I struggle to find my balance in his arms this time while holding the light. The sensation of my skin on his isn't helping either. "One," I begin, "two, three!" He lifts me up and and I shine the light upwards. There it was, the handle to the hatch. I push against it as hard as I can but it won't budge. Again, again. This time I hear a creak and with a final shove it opens. I let out a little cheer as Cal lowers me back down. He smiles as well. "Nice job, I guess."

"Mhmm. You did okay too. Now let's go."

He chuckles at my reluctant praise.

That was only one of our tasks. Next were the fog machines. There should be four in the caf, each in a different corner which was a little more difficult. But there was two of us so it should be quite easy.

We get in the line to enter and a girl at the door hand us our blue bracelets that grace the wrist of everyone inside. "So what are you two supposed to be?" she asks.

"I'm Zeus and he's--"

"Hades," he cuts in looking at me with puzzlement. Hm. He was the god of fire? I thought he got back from a funeral with all that god-awful black. It also happened to be very distracting.

"Huh," the girl says. "That's an odd couple's costume."

"Oh no she's not--"

"Really, I would never--"

"Never, really? That's--"

"Okay well enjoy the dance," she says a little too loudly as if despairing of us. "Next!" I hear her shout as we enter. Luckily the darkness conceals my flush. "You take the far end and meet me by the snacks table." He nods slowly, still reeling I assume. "Nice position."

"Really? I chose it because after all this I'm feeling a little hungry."

He laughs loudly. "I'd forgotten about that appetite of yours. See you later, Barrow"

As I make my way to the first machine I realize I've been grinning ever since I walked away. I try and fail to to wipe it away.

Slinking amongst the shadows is a specialty of mine so it's fairly easy to get to the machine. A soft blanket of mist covers the floor and I cackle to myself. It was about to get much more interesting in here. I instructed Cal to set them to medium. High would be way too much and there was four of them. Plus I needed it to take a while so Maven and Thomas could arrive. Hopefully Shade, Farley and Kilorn were all doing well.

I move onto the next machine as I scan for Cal. I see him finishing up on his second one and heading towards the snack table. Somehow he senses my stare and turns. I pull my gaze away and ahead of me to see a chest slam into mine. "Shit!" the person exclaims. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was--" I look up to see Will gazing at me with shock. Punch drips off the both of us and it smells of alcohol. "Uh...hey, Mare," he says after what feels like forever of us staring at each other.

"Hey," I croak. I rush to clear my throat. "Hey, uh, how's it..going?" He laughs awkwardly. "Well we're both covered in what I'm sure is ninety- nine percent alcohol, which again, I'm really sorry for."

"It's my fault too, I was--"

"Looking for someone?"

"Yeah..."

Ugh this is so awkward. Please earth swallow me now.

"Hey, babe," Cal says behind me. He puts an arm around me and smiles casually. "Who's your friend?"

"Just leaving actually," Will says. He smiles at me. "It was nice seeing you again, and I'm sorry..for everything." The words have an effect on us both.

When he leaves, I pull myself out from Cal's grip. He wipes his hands on his pants and I wrinkle my nose. "Was that necessary?"

"No," he replies. Cal begins to shrug off his jacket and hands it to me. Before I can protest he stops me. "It looks like you murdered someone."

"Thanks," I mutter. The punch was drying now and was all sticky. Cal sees this of course.

"I guess you just got yourself into--"

"Don't fucking finish that--"

"a sticky situation," he finishes with a goofy smile. I sigh loudly. "More than you know," I mutter.

My phone buzzes and I take it out, doing my best to not get punch all over it. "Shit!" I exclaim when I read the text.

"What is it?" Cal asks. He sneaks a glance at my phone.

"Kilorn was caught. Apparently a group of kids heard him coughing and reported him after they found him tampering with the lights." I was concerned for Kilorn and pissed at myself for not only not thinking about that but jeopardizing this plan.

"Who texted you then?"

"Shade. They finished up and were coming to check on him when they saw the principal walking him out." I groan in frustration.

I text him back quickly.

"What are you typing?"

"I'm telling them to get Kilorn out and take him home. He's sick and I should've insisted on him staying home.

"Soo, what now? "

I look up as if the ceiling held the right answer. Putting an end to this and going home would be the easiest thing to do. But it was something of a tradition for Shade, Kilorn and I. Shade especially would be disappointed if we gave up. Sure there would be other dances but I knew that Halloween was special to him as well as Farley being here.

"I think we should call it off," I say slowly, not believing my own words. Neither does Cal. "You don't give up, not like this." I whirl around ready to snap at him but his soft gaze stops me. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be looking at me like that. Not when I was the one who had messed up.

"There's something you should know," I say quietly. I needed to get this done and over with. The plan was off anyway with everyone else gone.

His eyebrows raise at the change in subject. Still he waits for me to continue.

"Do remember the guy I bumped into?"

"Kinda hard to forget when you smell like fruit salad and an LCBO store."

"That was Will...my...ex."

Confusion is what I see flash first. Then understanding.

"The guy who stood you up," he states. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

This was the difficult part. My fingers twitched as I restrained myself from running.

"A few months ago," I continue, "I was out at a party. Typical night except that...it wasn't."

I suck in a breath. There was no stopping now. Still, the words refused to pass my lips.

Cal inches closer. His thumb grazes my hand and his lips part. "God, you're freezing Mare." His arms encircle me and I pull away. I don't miss the hurt in eyes before they go blank. It was better this way. At least now it wouldn't hurt so much.

"I slept with him Cal. I wasn't thinking straight...neither was he. It was a mistake. I'm--" my throat closes up and I struggle to keep tears from falling. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "You deserve so much more. That's why I couldn't and still can't talk to you. It hurts to even look at you," I add softly.

I want to look away from the storm of emotions flashing across his face but I force myself to watch. This is what I deserved for my foolish actions.

He's silent for a while. So am I. The words were still sinking in. There was no way he could forgive me. But still, I feel the hope rising in my chest before I'm forced to shove it down.

"I..I need to go," he forces out. I swear I see the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Cal turns away sharply before twisting through the crowd. I feel the piercing gaze of fellow students as they stopped to stare. I got a few sympathetic smiles and I let out an defeated sigh at the sight of them. I really knew how to pick my spots.

"Was that Tiberias Calore?" a soft voice at my right asks. I turn to face them and find Elane Haven watching his retreating form now swallowed up by the crowd. "Unfortunately so," I reply. I look her in the eyes. "What do you want? To gloat over my failed love life?"

Elane snorts. "If only I had enough energy to care." Her brown eyes soften slightly as she says, "But I do know how screwed up a relationship can be. It's worth it in the end though, the tears and the pain. You just have to be willing to fight for them, even if that means risking your pride."

I'm taken off guard. Never would I have expected Elane Haven to be giving me advice on love. Maybe on my outfit with a sneer but not this.

She places a hesitant hand on my, arm the touch so light that it's almost unrecognizable. "You should go after him."

I bite my lip and laugh, shaking my head mockingly. "I'm sorry, but why the hell are you doing this? What happened to 'thrift store fashion died two years ago Barrow, take a hint?' What kind of twisted game are you playing now, Haven?"

She sniffs. "And yet you still dress like a-" I clear my throat. "Okay look, the same thing happened with me and Evangeline. But it was your brother who told me the same thing I'm telling you now. If he hadn't..." she trails off. "I love Eve so much that hurts to think what would be now if I hadn't fought for her and with her," she laughs a little. Her gaze is solemn. "You care about him, so go before you lose him forever."

I let out a shaky breath. Shade comforted Elane and encouraged her to go after Evangeline? That was something new. Perhaps a piece in the puzzle if what had really happened. But her words rang true. It sounded like something Shade would say if he were here right now. Well...if he and Cal were on better terms.

"Thanks Elane." The words unsettle us both.

"Don't mention it," she smiles though it's strained. "Seriously, don't ever mention this again. To anyone."

I laugh lightly, sniffing a little. My cheeks feel wet from tears I hadn't even known had been there. "If only you extend the same courtesy."

"I will, believe me. Now hurry, if he's not gone by now."

Then I'm off. Running through the halls. They whip past me, locker after locker. Rain pours in sheets outside and distantly thunder rumbles. A storm.

I can't see him anywhere. It's so impossibly dark and clouds roll overhead, blocking out the faint glow of the moon. This is it, he's gone. I'm breathing heavily now, breaking down into sobs. My dress is soaked through probably making it sheer. I wrap myself tighter in his jacket and inhale the scent. He'd forgotten it, I think weakly. How could I be so stupid? I kick at the soda cans littering the parking lot in frustration. In my haze of self pity I barely even notice the car that comes to a screeching halt in front of me. The bright lights momentarily blind me from seeing the driver. They get out of the car and the door slams shut.

"Oh my god are you-" the words freeze on their tongue and I wait for the flashes of white to disappear.

"I'm really sorry," I croak out. "I don't even know why I came out here in the first place." I laugh sarcastically. "Actually I do know, see, I was running out here all rom-com like in the rain hoping to stop the guy I love from leaving. But he's gone so-"

"The guy you love?" the stranger says so softly I barely hear him.

"Mhm, it's all very terribly romantic I'm afraid. Anyways, I'm sorry-"

#second time's a charm pt iii #chelsea writes shit #chelsea's fic pt iii #astacfic3

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ackbang · 6 years

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special delivery to my reibert secret santa: @freckledskittles! they asked for college reibert, where annie has two stupid friends that would be perfect for each other and sets them up on a blind date. and wow, if that ain’t my shit too?? this is my first time writing reibert, and in pure isayama fashion, i do nothing but talk about reiner for 2k words. please enjoy, and happy holidays, my dear. <3

mocha latte

Reiner Braun grew up in the small town of Liberio. It was a town nestled within the foothills of the Virginian Adirondacks; the kind of town that the residents lovingly called a village because there was not much there to make it anything more. Once a popular railway town, it fell into being a town of stagnant quiet that rolled along much like the early morning mists in the valleys. The town square was measured in feet and comprised of one general store, a post office that closed at noon, and a library with three rows of books, all that sat along the only road that left in and out of town.

Life was quiet, and Reiner didn’t know it could be anything more than summer nights filled with the sounds of crickets and jars of lightning bugs. He didn’t know the difference of life outside of three feet of snow and neighbors that lived almost a mile away. He didn’t know about a life that didn’t involve a community, where everybody knew everybody else, where restless mothers with sweating brows caused by heated stoves chatted for hours on phones that still had cords. Where murmurs of the boy without a dad and a mother without a crucifix around her neck was the type of boy you were best to stay away from.

Reiner had been to the city once. He was so small then that he had barely remembered much else besides how tall the buildings had been around him. Like giants, he told his mother, his hand squeezing hers. She smiled down at him and nodded. Told him stories about Greek myths and the great beasts that formed the world. They were called titans, she said. Reiner begged her for more--she had so much control over the knowledge of his world, she might as well had been a god to him at that moment. They spent the rest of the day at the art museum, reading thousand year old stories on old terracotta pots. She bought him a book on mythology that sat with a worn spine on his bookshelf.

The kids turned to teenagers, and Reiner began to fill out his shirts with muscle as his voice grew deeper. He did manual labor throughout the year--chopping wood, shoveling driveways, landscaping. He saved his money and bought books. He saved money because he wasn’t going to be like them. He was going to be different. So many of them were stuck in the foothills, their feet sinking into the soil like old trees, building families before even having a chance to grow themselves. The friends he had were in his books. They were in the mythologies.

His mother brought him to the closest town that had a Wal-Mart to pick up a nice pair of clothing for his high school graduation. She took him to the Waffle House and let him get the All-Star Special. “For my All-Star,” she said, an affectionate grin on her face as she sipped at her light coffee. Reiner was the first one in the family to go to college, and was the only one in his class of forty to leave the state for school.

She was proud.

She was so proud and she said it to him so many times as she helped him move his things into his dorm room. “Eight hours.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m only eight hours away. If you need anything at all, I’ll come get you.” She nodded as she looked into his eyes. Six inches shorter than him, and she still looked so tall--for so long she had been his entire world.

He kissed her cheek back and nodded. “I know, ma. You’re just a phone call away.”

Reiner had no idea. He had no idea how watching her pull out of the parking lot would grip something around his heart so strongly it made him ill. Eight hours felt like an ocean at times. It had only been a few days and he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything at all.

His roommate Connie threw a pack of pop-tart at his face the morning before their first class. “You need to eat something, dude.” The pack fell onto the keyboard of the laptop in his lap.

Reiner ran a hand down his face and blinked a few times. He’d been staring at the schedule of his classes for the past hour, only thinking of how in a couple of weeks, the grass would start frosting in the morning back home. “I will… I will.” He picked up the pack and tore it open, taking a mouthful of both pastries and chewing, crumbs falling from the corner of his lips and landing in the crevices of his keys.

“You play any sports?”

Reiner looked over at Connie. He shrugged. “We didn’t have any sports teams back home.”

Connie laughed. His laughter was always loud but genuine. “What the fuck kinda backwoods place do you come from?”

“Liberio.”

“Where?”

Reiner laughed in response, shoving another mouth full of pastry into his mouth. After he swallowed, he continued. “Yeah. I’ve never played anything outside of touch football.”

“Man, you’d be a beast. You got arms for days.” Connie flexed his muscles and laughed again. Reiner smiled. “There’s open try-outs next week. We should go together.”

Reiner looked back down at his schedule. He had no idea how intense his semester was going to be. He was on course to be a physical therapist eventually--but this semester was full of prerequisites like math and English. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s not like I’ll ever make it.”

A week later he was Sina University’s football team’s defensive tackle.

Being social didn’t come easy, but people tended to like him. He liked his teammates, and he found himself at parties and tasted cheap beer that never seemed to get him drunk. He kissed his first girl, a short little blonde quiet thing that attached better to the corners of rooms than to people. He followed her outside onto the green lawns that didn’t frost and tried to take her hand. “Let me walk you home,” he said.

He didn’t remember hitting the ground, but it happened and the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed the air back into as she stared down at him. In the night, her eyes looked pale like the moon, and her personality as interesting as a twig. She said her name was Annie, and they became best friends.

Reiner managed well through his first semester. He made good grades while balancing his newly acquired social life. The pain of homesickness was distant at times, but when he went back for winter break, he sat in a pile of snow that made it hard for him to breathe. When he went back inside the house, he watched the steam curl off of his mug of coffee until it ceased. His throat hurt as if he had been talking, and perhaps he had because his mother was smiling bigger than he had ever seen her smile.

“I’m so proud of you, Reiner.”

Reiner finished out his first year on the Dean’s List, and he hugged Connie good bye as they packed up his dorm room to go back home for the summer. “Hopefully we’ll be roomies again, yeah?” Connie stepped back and raised his fist for a fist bump.

Reiner accepted with a nod. “Totally.” He dragged Connie back into a hug before closing the dorm room door behind him.

Summer was lonely, and he found that he missed school like how he missed home. Annie came to visit for a week, and they went hiking and camped at the peak of a mountain in order to watch the sunrise. “This is beautiful.” She said.

“It’s home.” Reiner said softly. He looked down at Annie and he had seen so many movies that plotted like this. He was supposed to reach out and hold her hand. They were supposed to kiss. In this special moment, overlooking the most important place to him, he was supposed to react.

Annie matched his gaze, her eyebrows downcasting. The golden sun caught her pale skin and outlined her in neon. Reiner supposed she was beautiful in all her unique features, but he didn’t feel anything. “What are you looking at?” She said stiffly.

Reiner looked forward, and the sun crept up the sky so immeasurably, it seemed to be stuck in time. “Nothing.” He said.

The next semester started, and Connie was once again his roommate. He juggled through practice and games and studying and classes, and somehow having regular hang-outs with Annie. He told her about the blonde cheerleader that always looked at him. “I think she really likes me.” He said, biting into a mediocre school burger.

“Nope.”

“What?” Reiner covered his mouth with a napkin when he realized he was losing pieces of food from his gaping mouth.

“She’s gay.” Annie said, matter of factly.

“No way.” Reiner swallowed. He’d never really known anybody that was gay. ��She doesn’t look like she would be.”

“What, does she have to wear a sign around her neck or something?” Annie rolled her eyes and dropped her fork next to her salad. “Listen. I know somebody you should try out.”

“I’m fine.” Reiner sighed. It’s not that he didn’t want to experiment with relationships. Despite being an outcast for so long, college turned him into somebody new. He’d become the big brother to his team, even helped tutor some of them when they needed it. He already had too many social obligations as it was. “I don’t have time for a girlfriend.”

“Just trust me. They’re a mega nerd like you and your weird… Mythology obsession.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow and nodded. With a gentle laugh, he took a gulp of his water before nodding again. “Fine.”

Annie setup the date at the school coffee shop. She had a few instructions: wear the red letterman jacket, get there at 2PM, and don’t try to be a gentleman and take the bill. “Most importantly,” she said, “Be yourself.”

And it was at that time that Reiner forgot how it was even like to be himself. Back home, he had been a recluse. He kept himself busy with carrying logs and sleeping under the stars. He had worlds inside his head with monsters that made storms with their breaths and created mountains with their bodies. At school, he found himself to be whatever people needed him to be. He sat at the metal table picking at a callous on his palm, feeling more homesick than he did when his mother first left him here--a whole ocean away.

He tapped his phone awake. 2:13. His eyes wandered across the cafe, to the entrance, then back at his phone. 2:13. He sighed and hung his head.

Eren and Jean had called him their big brother. Armin helped him drill down the difference between sins and cosines. Connie stayed up late with him watching movies from the early nineties that Reiner had never seen. His friends were part of who he was now, but is that all he was?

2:18. He paused and stared at the tall man sitting at the window--skin that matched the color of his mother’s coffee, hair deep as mocha. Reiner looked back down at his hand and picked at a scab on his index finger.

He was about legends and giants and worlds so large and vast that they couldn’t contain his size. He was going to be greater than anything that came out of that small little town.

2:25. Reiner gasped a little when the tall man matched eyes with him. His eyes were sad, his brow withered in worry, and they darted away as soon as they met. Reiner shook his head, agitated that he had been stood up by this mystery girl, and rose from his seat. The legs of his chair screeched on the concrete floor, and his shoes squeaked as he passed a few tables and stopped in front of the tall man.

“Hey.” Reiner said. He didn’t have to tilt his head too far down to look into the sitting man’s face. He turned his attention to the man’s coffee cup, and saw it to be empty, a dark pool of mocha remaining at the bottom of the mug.

The man startled so abruptly that his chair wailed under him. “H-hey.”

“Looks like my date stood me up.” Reiner said, pulling the chair opposite out and taking a seat. “You look like you could use some company.” Reiner landed his elbow on the table and extended his hand. “Name’s Reiner.”

The man looked at the hand as if it were a cobra, the soft sheen of sweat at his forehead shining under the large lamp above the table. He raised his hand and connected firmly with Reiner’s and shook it once. His palms were sweaty, and it made Reiner smile. “Bertholdt.”

Reiner took back his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here lookin’ so glum?”

Bertholdt shrugged.

Reiner hummed. He looked Bertholdt up and down, studied the size of his nose, the color of his eyes, and found himself focussing oddly on the length of his neck and how the tendon tensed every time he swallowed. The white polo collar that popped out from under the teal sweater set him apart from the jocks he had grown accustomed to hanging out with. He was one pair of glasses away from being a nerd.

“There’s an exhibit going on at the art museum about Irish folklore.”

Bertholdt searched Reiner’s face and a smile cheated across his lips. It reminded Reiner of home somehow. “That sounds nice.”

“Wanna go?” They stared at each other for a few more moments before Reiner added, “I mean, I left today open for a date, and now I’m bored so…” Reiner shook his head, slapping a hand to his forehead. “N-not that it’s a date. Jesus.”

Bertholdt relaxed into his seat and laughed. It reminded Reiner of summer nights with jars full of lightning bugs. “That sounds fun.” He lifted his hand up and fingered the curve of the coffee mug handle. “But I’ve already been to it.” He smiled, and it looked strained but eager to remain on his lips. “How about we go to the natural history museum instead?”

Reiner smiled big, his teeth showing. He thought of books with worn spines, and wondered if Bertholdt had any of his own. “Sure.” He nearly spit it out, the excitement thrumming in his chest. “That sounds great.”

#reibert gift exchange #reibert secret santa #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #annie leonhardt #connie springer #snk #aot #mine #my titans #ack fics #titan fics #this was so fun to write and i want to do more #there's so much more i could write #i love this au #kaj;slrea;s #i hope you enjoy T_T;

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allskynostars · 7 years

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Strong, Chapter 2: Dealings & Feelings

First things first, I CANNOT believe the reception to the first chapter :) THANK YOU SO MUCH! Love you all.

So here is chapter 2, I think I'm going to jump between Betty & Jughead for POV each chapter. Let me know if you like that idea guys.

Read on AO3

“Half an ounce, yeah?” It was a sunny but mild midday on a Saturday. Jughead was parked up at the edge of Sweetwater river, leaning against his bike, dealing weed to some kids from Cambridge, the town over. Apart from working odd bar shifts at the Whyte Wyrm, this was the only gang duty he bothered to participate with. He wasn’t stupid enough to get involved with all the other illegal dealings that went on. He just needed to save up some extra cash so he could get the hell out of Riverdale. The Serpents knew that, they were good to him.

And with being FP Jones’ son, the jacket just kind of came with the territory. He didn’t need to work all that much for it, and it suited him entirely.

He took the money from one of the kids, and handed them the bag. He could tell by looking at them that this wasn’t something they had done before. The boy looked younger than him, Jughead thought to himself. He cursed whoever it was that agreed to sell to minors. When he made no move to put it away, instead just sort of fumbled with it in his hands, Jughead gave him a stern look.

“Jesus, kid. Don’t go flashing it around everywhere, alright?” He put on his best threatening tone and stood up straight, standing closer to the boy. “And don’t go telling everyone where you got it from. If it gets back to us that you’ve been running your mouth, you’ll swallow that tongue.” They all just nodded, then quickly scrambled back to their push bikes. As Jughead watched them ride away, he hoped he had put enough fear into them to not see them again. He hated dealing this shit, even if he did smoke it himself occasionally. When you had a family like his, sometimes it helped to zone out for a while.

“Okay, Tony Soprano. Have you filled your tough guy quota for the day?” Cheryl’s voice snapped him out of this thoughts, he turned to look at her. Joaquin was Jugheads partner of choice for dealings like this, but lately he had been delving more into the serious side of the gang, which meant that Cheryl had started to tag along more often.

She was untouchable, the sacred princess, the one and only daughter of Clifford Blossom. The head of the royal Blossom family of the South Side. The big boss. The one who sat upon his throne and called the shots without getting his hands dirty. Nobody could tell her what to do, or more what not to do. She was similar to him in the sense that she had no gang initiation, her jacket was a birthright. And with her banished twin brother opting to not get involved in the family business, Clifford didn’t object to her involvement. No that Cheryl would listen if he did. It didn’t necessarily mean that he enjoyed his little girl being part of the dealings, but he needed someone to take over the Blossom empire if his son would not.

Cheryl missed her brother Jason, he knew that. And sometimes he thought she clung to him as a stand in.

Jughead had basically grown up with Cheryl, and for as much as he loved her like a cousin, that did not mean he had to like her all the time.

“Lets go to Pops, I’m fucking starving.” He said over his shoulder before putting his helmet over his head, ignoring her snide remark. They rode together to the diner, parking up out the front. He felt eyes on him as they walked through the door, the fucking bell always announcing their arrival. Nobody saw him, they just saw the snake on the back of his jacket and made their own assumptions. He was used to it, and he preferred it that way, sometimes. He just kept his eyes forward. Always ahead of him.

He slid in to their usual booth in the far corner of the diner, then pulled his phone out to text Frankie that the deal was done, he would drop the money of tonight. Cheryl slipped into the booth after ordering their food, opposite Jughead.

“God, could they be anymore obvious. I don’t know how they could even be slightly attracted to that self loathing stench that follows you around.” Cheryl was only half joking, nodding to a couple of girls who were on the stools at the counter when she had his attention. They were cute, he supposed. He gave them a wink, which caused an outburst of shy giggles from the girls, loud enough to grab the attention of other people in the diner.

Jughead noticed the blonde ponytail turn in his direction, from a booth on the opposite side of the diner. And then her eyes were on him, big and green. He hadn’t seen Betty when he walked in, he hadn’t seen anyone. He held her gaze for a moment before she smiled, raising her hand to wave shyly at him. He didn’t wave back, he just tilted his head slightly, smirking back at her. He noticed the flash of red on her cheeks, something he had been the cause of a lot in the last 3 weeks she had been around, he thought. Betty dropped her hand quickly before turning back to her dark haired friend in the booth. The rich one. Veronica, he was pretty sure that is what he heard Betty tell JB when he had been pretending not to listen to their conversations from the hall. He only did it to make sure Jellybean was in good company, it’s not like he was interested in anything about Betty. She was far too girl next door for his liking anyway. At least, that was what he had been trying to convince himself the past few weeks. He did love to make her blush, though.

“Um, did I just catch Betty Cooper, Riverdales prized possession, waving at you?” Cheryl turned back to shoot him a surprised look, her brows raised in question. He hadn’t noticed she was watching their interaction. He just shrugged.

“She’s tutoring Jelly, that big sister programme they have at school. She’s around at home a lot, I guess she thinks we’re on waving terms or some shit.”

“Ugh,” Cheryl cringed, shaking her head, “Thank god Daddy let me be home schooled instead of going to Riverdale High. I couldn’t imagine having to rub shoulders with those prudes.” Jughead let out a loud laugh.

“Says the snob who was too good for South Side High.” He smiled a thanks at the waitress who had brought their food and shakes.

“What can I say, some of us are just destined for bigger things, Jughead Jones.” She gave him an entitled smile, but her eyes gave away the joke in her words. “Just like how you are destined to have every girl fall at your feet, and yet somehow not care.”

“Except you.” Jughead winked, taking a bite from his burger. Cheryl shook her fork full of salad at him.

“Indeed. As I said, Jug, destined for bigger things.” She wiggled her brows at him, raking her eyes down his frame. He just laughed and threw a fry at her. “Any news on that scholarship?”

Cheryl was the only person Jughead had told about it. Hell, she was the only person he had told about his plans for University at all. And for all her belittling and degrading qualities, Cheryl had just simply understood. She knew all of his history, and was not surprised at all that he wanted to leave. Maybe she was taken aback by the fact that Jughead was actually going to have some sort of tertiary education. He had always made out like he didn’t care for school.

And he didn’t. But that didn’t mean his grades should suffer. He had always been told his writing and English work was phenomenal, and he kept up enough in other classes that he had done well enough to apply for a scholarship at Washington College. They had scholarships specifically for creative writing.

“No word yet.” He could get away far away, put all his energy into school, and hopefully write away all his issues. It’s what he was good at. He could never get the words to come out of his mouth right, but when he was writing them down they came easily. Cheryl nodded, not pressing any further. She could sense his reluctance to talk about it.

So she changed the subject, and they sat and ate for a while, talking about the party that Cheryl was throwing in a few weeks. There was nothing Jughead hated more than being in a house full of drunk, rowdy teenagers. But he would go anyway, just to get out of the house. He was so lost in the conversation they were having he didn’t notice one of the girls from earlier was waling up towards their table, a piece of paper in her hands.

“Um, hey..” She interrupted. Jughead looked up at her in surprise, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. Cheryl looked up at her as she took a sip from her milkshake.

“Ah, one for the masses.” She muttered under her breath, shooting a knowing smile towards Jughead. He ignored her. “Hey.” Was all he said back to the girl. A man of few words, unless they were written.

“Um, my names Ethel. I ah, here’s my number. Maybe we could hang out some time?” She asked shyly.

“Sure, why not?” His eyes were diverted from the girl in front of him as he reached for the paper she was handing him, no doubt her number was scribbled on the inside. Betty was walking out of the diner, her eyes flicked in his direction just in time to see him take the paper from Ethel. He could have sworn she walked a little faster after that.

‘I’m sure he’ll put you right on top.“ Cheryl joked, a sickly sweet smile on her face definitely implicating that she had meant that innuendo. Ethel quickly looked between the two of them, smiled shyly and went back to sit with her friend. Cheryl looked back at Jughead then. "Ballsy, I’ll give her that. How did she know that I wasn’t your girlfriend?”

“Must be the look of disgust that paints your face whenever you look at me.” He joked, wiping his hands in a napkin and throwing it onto his empty plate. He downed the rest of his shake before shuffling to the end of the bench seat. “See you at the Wyrm later?” Cheryl just nodded in response.

Jughead shot one last smile at Ethel before leaving the diner. He pulled out the piece of paper with her number on it, screwed it up and threw it in one of the outside bins. Of all the numbers he’d been given, he’d never called any of them. He knew he should probably just let them down easy, but he couldn’t bring himself to embarrass anyone like that. He knew what he needed to do with himself, he had his sights set to leave, and he wouldn’t even risk the idea of involving someone in his life like that. He didn’t need any distraction.

He climbed onto his bike and rode home.

Nobody was there when he got back, so Jughead jumped in the shower. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be empty on a Saturday. Gladys had Jellybean involved in all kinds of things even outside of school. Today was probably a game of some sort, and as much as Jughead loved to watch and support everything JB did, but he couldn’t stand next to his Mother for a long amount of time without going insane. She always pushed JB, and sometimes Jughead felt it was too far. She was only 13 for god sake, but he knew how much his Mother loved to project what she had wanted to be onto Jellybean. It made him feel guilty, a lot probably stemmed from how much he had let her down, getting pregnant with him so young ruined so many of her plans.

But she had let him down too. He remembered. Gladys might try and act as though it never happened, but Jughead won’t ever forget. And he knows that whenever she looks at Jughead, she’s reminded of the part of her life she tries to forget. Her failed marriage. Her convict ex husband. Her own substance abuse problems. Whenever Gladys looks at Jughead, she sees his Father. And there’s a part of Jughead that truly believe she hates him for it.

That daily reminder that everything hasn’t always been white picket fences.

He allowed himself to think of FP, to think of his Dad in that jail cell. He visits twice a year, once at Christmas and once on FPs birthday. He doesn’t ever tell Gladys, but he thinks she knows. He’s certain she will never understand. But that is his Dad, and unlike her, he’s never tried to be anyone he wasn’t, he has never tried to forget what it is he’s done in his life. Just to accept it and move on. There’s no mask on him.

Jughead turned the shower dial to cold, trying to cut the thoughts from his mind.

He climbed out from the shower, running the towel over his hair and his face before wrapping it loosely around his waist. He made his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He hadn’t heard the car pull up, lost in his own thoughts, so he got the fright of his life when the front door suddenly burst open, Jellybean following through it in her soccer gear.

“Jughead!’ She screamed, covering her eyes with her hands. He started to laugh but it was cut short as suddenly Betty was in the door way. Her eyes widened, and he saw that all too familiar blush adorn her cheeks, but she made no comment. Just continued to make her way into the house, helping with the groceries.

"Okay, girls. I’ll make some lunch and then we can do some party plann-” And then Gladys was in the kitchen, shaking her head at her son. “For god sake, why are you not dressed?” Jughead shrugged, grinning at his audience.

“I just had a shower, nobody was home.” He started to walk backward, making to leave the kitchen.

“We have a guest!” Gladys exclaimed, turning to look at Betty. “I’m so sorry, Betty.” Jugheads eyes averted to Betty then, giving her a small smile.

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind, right, Cooper?” He joked, enjoying the tilt of her head in confusion at the use of her surname.

“Forsy-” Gladys started, but was cut short by the look that Jughead shot her. The anger was immediate and obvious behind his eyes. He didn’t care if they had an audience. It probably didn’t help that he had wound himself up thinking about his Dad in the shower.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He could see from the corner of his eye the way Bettys face dropped, trying to look anywhere but at them. “Don’t.”

“It’s your name, for god sake. It’s on your birth certificate, your drivers license. You live under my roof. I gave birth to you, I’ll call you whatever I want.” She was standing with her arms crossed, giving Jughead a stern look. He just shook his head lightly, biting his tongue. He wanted to scream at her, tell her that it didn’t count for shit. Giving birth does not make you a Mother, not in his eyes. Not his Mother. But instead he just rolled his eyes, and turned to storm through the door into the hall.

Just as he turned to head up the stairs to his bedroom, he saw Betty walk into the hall behind him. He stopped short to look at her. Jughead had noticed the fact that Betty had made an effort to hide her legs ever since he made that comment, much to his own regret. She did have great legs, it was something he had noticed before he ever knew who she was. Along with the way she used to look at that red headed boy before Veronica showed up.

But much to his enjoyment, today she was wearing a light blue dress, it was tight around her waist but flowed delicately down her legs, stopping just above her knee. The straps on her shoulders were thin and lonesome. He couldn’t stop his mind wondering to what that implied.

He raised his brow as if to ask where she was going. She just nodded to the downstairs bathroom, her hand on the handle as Jughead asked.

“Why are you here on a Saturday? Don’t you get a day off?” She turned in the doorway, smiling up at him sweetly.

“JB asked me to help plan her birthday party next weekend.” She just shrugged, and then Jughead understood Cheryls surprise from earlier at the diner. This girl was sweet, almost too much so. In regards to him anyway. Here she was, taking time out of her own weekend to help his Sister just because she asked.

“No boys. Right?” He said sternly, only half joking. But not actually joking at all. Betty raised her hand to her head, giving him a mock salute. “Sorry about the ah, towel, by the way.” He gestured to his midriff. She just shrugged again, but he saw her eyes take him in from head to foot.

“It’s okay, it’s your home. You know, I was going to mention that I would be around, when I saw you at Pops earlier. But you kind of ignored me.” She was leaning in the door way now, smirking up at him like he had done to her that same day. Playing him at his own game. “And here we are.” She held his gaze. “She was cute, by the way. That girl.”

“I’m not going to call her.” He blurted out before he could catch himself. Why did he tell her that? Why was it him who was blushing now? Betty didn’t comment, just continued to smirk at him as she walked into the bathroom. Her head peered around the door just before she closed it.

“Oh, Jughead?” He hadn’t moved to head up the stairs yet, for some strange reason he didn’t really want too. He watched her face as she took her bottom lip between her teeth. “Nice legs.”

He stood there, on the bottom step, for a moment after she had closed the bathroom door. He had forgotten how mad he just been a few moments ago. The fluttering in his chest was telling him he might be in trouble here.

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